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“And then what? Because my bet is he hasn’t even paid the deposit yet.” She stretches her legs out. “Honestly, at this point, I’m starting to wonder if perhaps he ever even rented this place. I think he told us some bullshit story so he could ditch us out in the middle of some redneck town.”
The thought has crossed my mind that perhaps our dad really has been running away from something for the last eight years and has finally decided to do it solo.
“I’m sure that’s not what—”
A car suddenly zooms down the road and peels into the driveway next door, kicking up a cloud of dirt.
“Holy hell, it’s your long-lost twin.” Bailey coughs, fanning her hand in front of her face as dust funnels around us.
I eyeball the car, a 1969 GTO Judge, black with red racing stripes. “Pretty.”
Bailey points at me. “Don’t get mesmerized yet. It could be one oftheircars.” She glares at the house the car is parked in front of. I assume she is referring to Blaise, Alex, and Jaxon.
“No way. They just went inside.” I openly check the car out, my chest filling with envy.
What I wouldn’t give to have my car looking that fantastic. And with functional tires.
Bailey and I watch as the driver’s door swings open and a guy hops out. Tall, with short, dark brown hair, he looks around my age, and almost as attractive as Blaise. He’s dressed in similar attire as Blaise, Jaxon, and Alex were—all black with chains dangling off his belt loops, thick boots covering his feet, and leather bands decorating his wrists.
“Yummy,” Bailey mutters, biting her bottom lip.
“No yummy,” I warn. “I’m pretty sure he’s related to dipshit one, two, and three.”
“How can you tell?”
“Because he looks like them.”
She pouts. “Well, that sucks.”
“Why? Were you planning on going over there and hitting on him?” I tease as I stare at my car.
“No.” Her lie shines through her tone and how she turns her head away to hide her smile.
“You’re such a little liar.” Flashing her a teasing grin, I move to dial a nearby tire company’s phone number. “Besides, I thought hitting on guys was more Payton’s thing—”
“Is that your ride?” a deep, male voice sails from over my shoulder.
I trade a wary look with Bailey before turning around. Sure enough, Mr. Yummy himself is standing beside the fence with a soft smile dancing at his lips. Although, unlike Blaise, Alex, and Jaxon, his smile doesn’t look malicious.
“Yeah,” I reply cautiously.
“It’s not too bad. Would look even better if it was fixed up.” He dazzles me with a grin, but his brows furrow as his gaze sweeps over me.
What? Has he never seen a girl in greasy pajamas before?
“It looks fine as is,” I reply flatly.
“I didn’t mean anything by it,” he quickly adds. “I was just trying to give you a compliment.”
“Well, thanks, I guess.” I begin to turn back around, but apparently, he’s not done with the conversation yet.
“I’d like to see how it races sometime,” he continues. “There’s a place down by the river where some people get together. You should come down there sometime. I think there might be a race going on this weekend.”
Bailey leans in toward me and whispers, “I’m pretty sure the hottest guy I’ve ever seen is hitting on you right now.”
“He’s not hitting on me. In fact, I’m pretty sure he’s up to something.” Facing him again, I recline against my car. “Thanks for the invite, but until I can come up with the cash to get four new tires, I won’t be taking this out racing anytime soon.”
His brows knit. “How did all of your tires go flat?”
