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Chapter 23
Take a chance – do something you find scary as hell, but the alternative is worse, so you decide to go with scary
Beckett holds the passenger door of his car open for me and raises a brow toward me in challenge.
“I do not need you to drive me home,” I say. “I have my bike here.” I motion to my bike leaning against the side of the bar.
“But you’ve been drinking,” Ashlyn shouts from the back seat. “Remember the time you got drunk and fell off your bike and broke your arm?”
“That was you. Not me.”
Ashlyn giggles. “Right you are.”
“Besides, I limited my alcohol intake to one glass of beer.”
Ashlyn grunts. “I think we need to change the rules. You have to chug a beer every time you get the answer correct. Ms. Smarty Pants here never gets the answers wrong.”
Beckett sighs. “Will you please get in the car so I can drive Ashlyn home? I promised Rowan I’d have her home safe immediately after the quiz.”
“Rowan doesn’t run my life. I’m an independent woman!” Ashlyn punches her fist into the air, and it slams into the roof of the car. “Ow. Your car hurt me, Beckett.”
“You know she’s going to continue saying crazy shit until you get in the car.”
“You could drive her home without me.”
His jaw clenches. “Not happening.”
“What about my bike?”
Ashlyn snorts. “You can’t seriously be worried someone’s going to steal your bike. Did you forget we live in Winter Falls?”
“I got it.” Juniper straddles her bike before grasping the handlebars of mine and pedaling away. “I’ll drop it off at your apartment.”
“Someone’s out of excuses,” Ashlyn sings from the back seat.
“I can walk.”
“Ten bucks says she walks home,” Sage hollers.
“I’ll take your bet and raise you ten. I bet Beckett brings her home and stays the night,” Feather responds.
I groan before getting into the car. “Stupid betting in this town. It should be illegal.”
“You tried to ban it, remember? You almost got ran out of town with pitchforks.”
“There were no pitchforks involved,” I correct, because getting the facts correct is important.
“But you admit you almost got ran out of town.”
Beckett sits in the driver seat and switches on the engine. “Where to, Ashlyn?”
“You can drop me off first,” I tell him.
“My house is on the way to your apartment,” Ashlyn says.
Beckett raises an eyebrow at me, and I answer truthfully, “She is correct.”
We drive the three blocks to Rowan and Ashlyn’s home. Rowan is standing on the porch waiting for us with his arms crossed over his chest.
