Page 16 of Challenge Me

I mirrored his face, but my expression was less entertained.

“Fine,” he said with a groan, pushing himself out of the leather chair. He stretched, shoulders rolling, the movement slow enough to be irritating. “Probably just blew a fuse or something.”

“Probably?” I raised a single eyebrow.

“Likely.”

“That is not better.”

“Old cars are dramatic. The good thing about them is you can fix half their problems with a gum wrapper, a screwdriver, and a prayer to whatever god handles wiring.”

“That is not reassuring.”

“It wasn’t meant to be. It was meant to sound manly and competent.” He came around the desk and headed for the door, pausing only to offer me his arm.

I did not need it.

I took it anyway.

There was a strategy in accepting help from men. A science, really. One had to play the damsel role just enough to activate whatever primitive mechanism made them useful. The more helpless one appeared, the more determined they became to prove they were needed.

Al was not an exception. If anything, he was worse because he knew I was doing it and still fell for it.

So I played my part.

I winced as I rose to my feet, shifting my weight onto him instead of my cane. His arm slid around me at once, steady and warm. He laughed softly and adjusted his hold on me, letting me lean on him as we moved toward the door.

I looked up at him. “You cannot be an asshole about it.”

Al’s brows lifted. “About what?”

“Ghost.” I snapped. “He’s delicate.”

Al stopped walking for half a second. Then he smiled, but this one was not mocking. “Don’t talk to me about delicate cars,” he said, wrapping one arm more securely around me. “I have one too.”

Chapter Seven

Ghost

“Ghost?” Fox pulled up beside me and leaned in closer, his headlights bright and irritating. I tried to ignore him for as long as I could. A gentleman had every right to suffer in silence, especially when his suffering involved the humiliating suspicion that his own body was beginning to betray him.

But Fox, being Fox, had never met a silence he didn’t want to ram his nose through.

“Ghost?”

“Ghost…”

“Ghost!”

Finally, I had to respond, my icy blue eyes locking onto his bright beams.

“What?”

Fox shrugged, sitting on his usual perch at the very front of his hood, taking an enormous bite of cold pizza. His chrome fangs ripped through the dough, dragging stale cheese with them as he chewed loudly. Grease shone on his lips, and there was a smear of sauce on his bumper.

“I dunno,” he said around the mouthful. “You look kind of down. Just thought I’d check on you.”

“I’m fine.”