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Amber offers a wobbly smile. “I know it’s only a couple miles, but I don’t know if my stomach’s going to cooperate for the entire drive. I really, really don’t want to be the girl who throws up in front of Vaughn Shaughnessy.”
“You wouldn’t be the first—”
“I’ll drive us home,” Kendall insists. She’s in guardian angel mode as she walks to the driver’s side and holds out a tip for the valet. But this time it’s her sister she’s looking after.
I help Amber into the passenger seat, close the door, and then lean in the lowered window. “Feel better soon.”
“I will,” she promises.
I glance over at Kendall. “Good night.”
“’Night,” she says around a small, apologetic smile before pulling away.
I stand there, rooted to my spot, watching the car’s taillights disappear into the stream of traffic on Sunset. I’m not sure what just happened between us, but one thing is crystal clear. Kendall’s not playing hard to get.
She is hard to get.
