Page 34 of It Runs in the Family

He grinned, then took the lead, still holding my hand. He pulled me down a row of vehicles, then stopped at the tailgate of an older Dodge Ram pick-up truck.

I smirked at him. “So you are a stereotype.”

He laughed and put his hand on the small of my back and steered me toward the passenger door. He opened it and I looked up at him. “I’m still not sleeping with you.”

“You’ve told me that about a dozen times. I’m simply your free Uber.”

I scowled. “Right.” He wasn’t doing this out of kindness. He wanted something, and the only thing he could be interested in was getting up my skirt.

I climbed into the seat, tugging the hem of my dress down as he held the door open. Once I was seated, he shut the door, then walked around the back of the truck. He got behind the wheel and pulled his phone out of his pocket. “What’s your address?”

“I’m not telling you that!” I protested. I’d listened to enough true crime podcasts during my work shifts to know you didn’t tell strangers where you lived.

His brow rose. “How am I supposed to take you home?”

Shit, he had a point. Then I came up with a brilliant idea. “Give me your phone.”

“Why?”

“I’m going to put the address in, and I’ll delete it once we arrive.”

He started to protest, then stopped and handed it over. Once he pulled up his navigation app, I plugged in my address—which took about five attempts—and handed it back to him.

His truck was too old for a navigation system, but he had a cell phone holder attached to the dashboard. He set the phone in it, then started the engine. “Let’s get you home before you turn into a pumpkin.”

I considered telling him I wasn’t Sleeping Beauty, but some part of my brain knew that wasn’t right, so I kept quiet while he backed out of the spot, then pulled out of the parking lot and onto the county highway.

We were silent for the first few minutes, leaving me to contemplate how Sunday dinner would go after I strangled Billy’s balls. My grandmother would never allow Billy to hurt me, but he could try to stop me on my way in or out. I’d have to call Garrett and ask him to escort me if he wasn’t working.

“So…” Boone said, breaking the silence. “Do you live in Briarwood?”

Briarwood was the next town over. “Nope.”

He glanced over at me before turning back to the road. “You know, I’m gonna figure it out once we get there.”

“Then it will be a surprise.” My adrenaline rush was crashing, and the most recent tequila shot was kicking in. The truck cab felt like a Tilt-A-Whirl, so I leaned my head back against the seat and closed my eyes.

“Are you feeling sick?” he asked, sounding slightly worried.

“Nope. Just resting my eyes.” If he thought I was sleeping, maybe he’d stop asking questions.

The silence lasted about thirty seconds.

“So how many cousins do you have?” he asked. “More than twenty?”

“Honestly,” I said, starting to feel sleepy. “I’ve lost count. My mother has five siblings, and they’ve all been very prolific, and now their kids are having kids.”

“So how many siblings do you have?”

“My mother’s the odd one out,” I said. “I’m her only child.”

“No kiddin’,” he said in surprise.

“But I’m not my father’s only child.”

What on earth had possessed me to say that? My father was a taboo subject. I never discussed him with anyone.

“You have half-siblings?”