Page 18 of Fallen Flame

She shrugged. “I know the owner of the Dairy Bar. She’ll float me anything I need.”

It wasn’t like we were going anywhere but the Dairy Bar, so I wasn’t going to argue with her to get her wallet. “You’re riding with me.”

That stopped her.

Her eyes lit up. “On your bike?”

“No. On a lawn mower.”

She grinned. “You made a joke.”

“I didn’t.”

“You did. It wasn’t a great one, but we can work on that.”

I opened the closet near the front door and found a black zip-up hoodie hanging inside. It looked like one of the generic club sweatshirts people kept around for guests. I pulled it off the hanger and held it toward her. “Put this on.”

She glanced at the sweatshirt, then back at me. “Bossy.”

“It’s cold on the bike if you’re not used to it.”

“And you care about my comfort.”

“I care about not listening to you complain for the entire ride.”

“That’s almost sweet.”

“It wasn’t meant to be.”

She took the hoodie and slipped it on over her shirt. It was too big, the sleeves covering most of her hands, but she pushed them up and zipped it halfway.

“How do I look?”

“Warm.”

Her smile widened. “You noticed.”

I turned toward the door.

Behind me, Mom laughed.

I paused and looked back. She had one hand pressed against Dad’s chest, her eyes dancing with amusement. Dad’s expression was harder to read, but I knew him well enough to see the approval hidden beneath his usual stern look.

“What?” I asked.

“Nothing,” Mom replied.

“It wasn’t nothing.”

She shook her head. “Go assess the Dairy Bar.”

I looked at Dad. He shrugged. “Listen to your mother.”

Mom smiled brightly.

I sighed and pushed open the front door.

Cold morning air rolled into the clubhouse.