“Yes.”
“No,” I say, more firmly this time. I amnotgoing anywhere with him. He can bat those long lashes at me all he wants. It’s not happening.
He sighs likehe’stired of me. “Summer, I swear—”
“What? What do you swear,Ezra?”
He pinches the bridge of his nose, his lips set in a hard line, and I don’t care. I don’t give a shit that he’s mad. I don’t care if I’m being stubborn. And I really don’t care if I have to walk back into town. It’s infinitely better than being stuck in the car with him.
“Look, it’s been a long fucking day, okay? So, can you not be stubborn just this once? Please?”
Please.
It’s such a simple word, and I hate how it undoes all the false bravado I’ve been holding on to. That, coupled with how tired he truly does look ...
Ugh, I hate myself for it, but I snap my mouth closed and nod. “Fine. But I’m giving you gas money.”
He huffs. “Whatever you say, Sunny.”
Then he leaves me standing there as he heads into the cidery.
I watch him leave, already regretting my decision, then make my way over to his sporty-looking sedan. I don’t know much about car culture, but it’s evident that whatever this is, it’s expensive. And likely very fast.
Something about that sends a rush through me as I open the passenger door. There’s a pizza box from I Heart Pizza Pie sitting in it, and the smell of oregano and tomato sauce has my stomach instantly rumbling.
I grab the box containing the best sourdough pizza I’ve ever had and slip into the seat, holding it on my lap, reveling in how warm it feels on the cool summer night.
Ezra comes out a few moments later, then slides into the driver’s seat and hands me a folder.
“What’s this?”
“Plans for the kitchen,” he explains as he buckles his seat belt. I do the same. “I was going to go over them before bed.”
“But it’s late,” I say absently as I flip open the folder and begin looking everything over. I immediately see issues with it. The placements are off, and it doesn’t flow well. He should move the stove, the prep tables, and the storage.
“I don’t, uh, I don’t sleep very much.” He turns his car around, the engine rumbling loudly, even though we aren’t moving fast. “Might as well be productive.”
“Makes sense,” I say, but I can’t help but feel a bit sad thinking of Ezra sitting up at night alone in his place, just working. Does he do anything else? Does he not have people to hang out with?
Then I remember what an ass he is, and all my sympathy goes out the window.
“We can get your car looked at tomorrow. Do you work?”
“You’re the one with my schedule memorized. You tell me,” I say sarcastically.
He casts me a side-eye glance as he pulls out of the parking lot, and all it does is make me want to antagonize him more. I don’t know what that says about me, but right now I don’t care. I want to rile him up like he’s riled me up.
“What? You’re not going to speed out of here like a bat out of hell?”
“Is that a challenge? Because that sure sounds like a challenge.”
I snort. “Please. I doubt you could win a race against a sloth.”
His eyes narrow momentarily before he says, “Hang on to that pizza, will you?”
And it’s the last thing I hear before I’m thrown back in the seat. My heart settles into my throat as I hug the box tightly. My initial reaction is to scream at him to stop, but I don’t. I trust him, and that thought scares me a little.
He presses on the pedal more, and I glance over at him, and I’m surprised to find the pure elation on his face. I don’t think I’ve ever seenhim look so happy before. It’s like everything that sits so heavily on his shoulders is lifted, and he’s free.
