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With those sweet golden brown eyes shining at him like that? Hell, he’d drive her anywhere.
Oh wait, he already was.
“Of course. Why there?”
She shrugged. “I always wanted to go to hokey places like this, but my mom was too fancy to let that happen. It seems fun, so . . . why not?”
The owner came back to take their plates and saw the pamphlet and chuckled. “You’ll make old Mitchell’s day if you drop by. Tell him you saw his pamphlet here and he’ll take two dollars off your entry fee.”
“Thanks!” Ophelia said eagerly.
They complimented him on the food, and the man smiled and wandered off into the kitchen with their dishes. Luke left a fifty to pay for their ten-dollar order and led Ophelia out to the SUV.
“That was a big tip,” she said, smiling at him like he’d done something noteworthy.
He shrugged. “Those were some damn good eggs. I was starving for some strange reason,” he said, echoing their earlier conversation about her wanting a shower.
“I can’t imagine why,” Ophelia said, following suit. “Maybe it was all the fresh air.”
“Yes, the fresh air. Not your fault at all.”
“I’m glad we agree.” She winked and he winked back, then he shocked himself by grabbing her hand as they walked to the SUV. How long had it been since he’d done something silly like hold someone’s hand? Ages, but holding her hand just felt right. Although she glanced up at him in surprise, she didn’t object.
They grinned at each other like goofy middle schoolers. A loud, revving engine caught his attention. He turned toward the noise just in time to see Ophelia’s SUV peel out of the diner parking lot.
“What the fuck?” he shouted, then released her hand to take off after the thief. It was pointless, though, since the car was already on the main road, its taillights soon too distant to see.
They were out in the middle of nowhere, which meant there weren’t many places for the fucker to go. Luke scanned the lot, looking for something fast he could hotwire.
Ophelia jogged to his side. “It’s okay. I have insurance,” she told him, watching him warily. “Or I can just buy another one.”
That wasn’t the point. He’d be damned if he let some idiot steal a car right out from under him. Without answering Ophelia, he ran to an ’86 Corvette. The car looked like it’d seen better days, but he could work with it as long as it ran. The door was unlocked and he leaned down under the wheel to hotwire it.
“Be my lookout,” he ordered Ophelia, whose face had gone pale.
“What?” she hissed. “What are you doing? I’ll just get another one. Stop!”
He ignored her. When the engine purred, he motioned to her. “Get in.”
“No,” she answered. “This is crazy! I’m not doing it.”
Shrugging, he settled into the driver’s seat. “Suit yourself. I’ll come back for you.”
Her gaze darted around them while he buckled his seat belt. “Fuck,” she finally muttered, then moved toward the passenger seat.
“Buckle up,” he ordered when she slid in.
She obeyed. “Promise you’ll return it—”
He took off after her car and she threw a hand out onto the dashboard. “Whoa! Luke!”
Focused on the chase, he ignored her distressed reprimand. Some dick dared to steal from him? No fucking way. He was going to give whatever punk took her SUV a serious lesson in manners.
Luke knew it was hypocritical, but he was too pissed to care. Ophelia gasped and clutched the seat as he flew through a yellow light.
At least the road was straight and flat. Thank god for long, empty stretches on this route. He passed two other cars whose drivers had honked as he’d sped by. The back of Ophelia’s SUV was visible in the distance. He hadn’t really thought past catching up to the car. What was he going to do once he did? Ram it off the road?
“There it is,” Ophelia pointed out. Her body stiffened as he accelerated. The car’s speedometer was pushing past a hundred.
