“You can’t.” Reece tried not to squirm as Grayson turned back to stare at him. “I’d let you,” he promised, “but the window’s stuck and I haven’t had a chance to—you know, how about instead of giving me that judgy stare, you tell me where the reporters went?”
“I got rid of them.”
“How?”
Grayson pointed out to the street. “Head toward the water. It’s close.”
Reece rolled his eyes as best he could while keeping them on the road. “Someone should addallergic to answersto your Dead Man file.”
“You really think anyone gets to keep a file on me?”
He’d bet good money that the Hypocrite Man had a big, juicy file on Reece. “Am I going to have to lug you around in my car all day? What are you even made of, titanium?”
Grayson removed his winter hat, setting it on his lap before pulling down the passenger visor. “Since when do empaths have opinions on physical bodies?”
“You’re too tall. It’s throwing off the handling.”
“Thehandling.”
“Yes, the handling!Andyou’re hurting my gas mileage. Your muscles are literally bad for the planet.”
At the stoplight, Reece glanced over to find Grayson studying himself in the visor mirror. “Are youprimping?”
Grayson cut his eyes to Reece, then back to his own reflection. “Some of us aren’t averse to combing our hair.”
Reece self-consciously ran a hand over his own hair before he could stop himself. Even through the glove, he could feel it sticking up oddly. Admittedly, it had been a few days since his hair had seen a comb. Or a brush. Or a shower. “So what? I’m sure you’re pretty enough for both of us.”
“Aw, thanks, sugar. I didn’t think an empath would notice looks either.”
Patronizing dick. “Fine.You’re right; I’m a typical empath whose concept of attractiveness is mostly predicated on inner beauty, and if you have any of that, it’s hidden from me by your creepy zombie vibe.”
Grayson raised an eyebrow.
“No disrespect,” Reece hastily added, as he drove downhill toward the water.
“We’re here,” was all Grayson said. “Park there, right in front of that building.”
Reece started to pull into the spot, then paused.
“Yes, the curb is yellow,” said Grayson. “Do it anyway.”
Reece put the car in reverse. “I’ll find another spot.”
“Sure, sure, and the homicide investigation will just keep while you find the perfect parking space.”
Reece ignored his bitching, driving on and fitting his car into a space just around the corner. “Give me a second to look for change.”
Grayson gave him a very flat look before unfolding his gigantic body from the tight car with surprising grace.
“There is nothing wrong with doing your civic duty and paying for parking!” Reece called after him.
He was fishing out his wallet to count his sad amount of remaining cash when Grayson suddenly opened the driver’s door. Without a word, he stuck a parking sticker to the windshield, then turned and strode off.
Reece blinked. Then he scrambled out of the car after Grayson. “I don’t need the Dead Man to pay for my parking!”
“Yes, you do,” said Grayson. “I’ve seen your bank statements.”
“Howhave you—never mind, you’re not going to tell me.” Despite his words and long legs, Grayson had Jamey’s trick of walking at a pace Reece could match. “Where are we going anyway?”
