Page 6 of Austin

I jump when he charges forward, blocking my path.

“You’re coming down from the adrenaline rush. That’s why you’re shaking.”

I look up at his tall six foot two figure. I’m no slouch, but his presence is the type that would make most people feel small.

Most people.

Not me.

“I’m just cold.”

“Sweetheart, it might be the Bay Area, but look around. There’s no fog tonight.” The deep baritone of his voice sends a chill up my spine.

“Says the guy wearing a sweatshirt,” I counter.

He takes a step closer. “I bet your fingers are tingling in a way you’ve never felt.” His words make me stretch them out in defiance. “And you have to keep straightening your posture because you feel like, if you don’t, you might trip and fall from the shakes.” He leans in even further. His breath is hot on my skin. “You keep rubbing your arms like you’re cold, but really, it’s the blood flow rushing back in.”

I hold up my hands in protest. “You can just stop right there.”

“Because you know I’m right?”

He grins, and it makes me want to smack him.

“No, because I don’t want to hear your voice anymore. But I want to see your face.”

“No.” He takes two steps back.

“Are you a felon? Only serial killers hide their faces as much as you do. And don’t tell me it’s because of the street racing because no one else was being so secretive.”

I point to his car that’s sitting on the dirty gray street like it has a neon sign above it that says, Steal me.

Oh my God.

“Did you steal that car?”

His jaw twitches. “Baby, I don’t need to steal a thing.”

His use of the word baby is purely condescending and laced with a cockiness that can only come from having money.

“If you’re so well off, then you can afford to wear something that fits.” I nod to his black sweatshirt. “You look ridiculous.”

“You wore khakis to a street race. Let’s not discuss fashion choices right now.”

“Oh, so you’d prefer the bimbos in leather?”

“As a matter of fact, yes, I do. Instead, I’m stuck here with you, so will you get back in the fucking car because, regardless of what you’re wearing, you’re live bait out here? You think you’re scared of me? Sweetheart, I’m a hero compared to the nightmares you’d encounter out here.”

He holds out his hand to me. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was genuinely concerned for my safety. Damn it, he’s right, and I hate it. I can’t give in that easily though.

I stand my ground, leaning back on my heels and crossing my arms in defiance. “Show me your face.”

He lets out a groan and punches into the air while turning around and yelling under his breath, “You exasperating woman.”

I tap my foot as I wait for him to do as he was told. A car playing obnoxiously loud music slows down at the sight of the Camaro. It inches by before taking off.

After staring at it drive away, he turns his attention back to me, probably wondering when I’ll give up this game of chicken.

Little does he know, I never lose.