He placed his car keys gently onto the table in front of me. “Have dinner with Lark.” His tone turned firmer. “Then go straight home.”
I stared at the keys for a second, then snatched them up quietly, whispering to the keys, “You don't know how long I’ve wanted to get my hands on you.”
Calix leaned down beside my ear lazily.
“Well now,” he drawled, “if keys are all it takes to excite you, sweetheart, I can buy you an entire?—”
“Calix.” Rack grabbed the back of his jacket and physically started dragging him away. “The faster we handle this,” he called over his shoulder, “the faster we get back to her.”
Calix let himself be dragged backward dramatically, still pointing at me.
“This conversation about luxury cars is NOT over!”
Despite myself, I laughed while watching them disappear out the restaurant doors together. Ridiculous man.
I barely had enough time to settle back into my chair before my phone buzzed. Lark. Finally.
I unlocked it quickly, expecting some excuse about traffic or her outfit or one of the million dramatic things she usually texted me about.
Lark:Can’t make it tonight. You’ll understand later.
That was it. I stared at the message.
“…What the hell does that mean?”
I immediately hit call and it went straight to voicemail. My brows pulled together harder as I called again. Voicemail, again.
Okay. Now I was annoyed.
My thumbs flew across the screen preparing a very aggressive text demanding answers when the entire street outside erupted with the scream of engines.
Every conversation around me stopped. Glasses paused midair. Heads turned toward the road all at once as two vehicles shot down the street side by side at impossible speed.
A bubblegum pink McLaren 720 screamed around the corner so fast the tires shrieked against the pavement while a massive olive-green Hummer barreled beside it like a tank refusing to lose.
People at nearby tables gasped and leaned back as both vehicles tore directly toward the restaurant entrance. Neither slowed down.
Then at the last second, the McLaren spun sharply sideways in a perfect drift, tires smoking while it slid to a stop inches from the curb and the Hummer thundered in right after it.
I blinked slowly. What the fuck was happening?
The McLaren door lifted upward smoothly and a stunning fairy woman unfolded out of the driver’s seat like she’d stepped directly off a magazine cover.
Long moonlight-white hair spilled over bare shoulders. A bodycon dress hugged every curve like the fabric had been poured onto her skin. Cherry-red lips stretched into a dazzling grin while she crossed her arms beneath her chest, pushing everything up even higher without a hint of shame.
Every person nearby stared openly. Men. Women. Probably the waiter too. Honestly? I did the same.
Still trapped in my stunned silence, I heard the heavy thunk of the Hummer door opening.
Black combat boots hit the pavement first. Then came lean taught muscles. The woman that climbed out looked like she could throw me over her shoulder and punch through concrete immediately afterward.
Toned arms flexed beneath a cropped top while a jacket hung open over powerful shoulders. Her white hair was wilder than the fairy’s, thick and mane-like with one braid hanging down the side.
She slammed the Hummer door shut hard enough to rattle nearby tables.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” she barked immediately.
The fairy leaned lazily against her car, grinning wider.
