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She had a lot of stuff.
Eventually, I got tired of waiting, and I walked back to her, wrenched most of the bags from her arms, and towed everything—including her—back to my cool, shaded car so I could get out of Idaho’s kiln.
“Wait, I need my—”
“I’ll buy you one in town,” I snapped.
“My laptop!” she finished with a little growl.
“Fine, get the laptop, but let’s go.”
She jogged back to the car, and with her generous, round rear end hanging out of the car door, her muffled voice shouted, “Aren’t we coming back for the car, though?”
She couldn’t pay me enough to make this drive again for her junkyard on wheels. I checked my smart watch, which was set to an analog display. “We’re late, June,” I said. “We can get it on the way back.” I felt a bit guilty for making us so tardy, but I had needed to get that surgery done today. My patient had been in horrible pain, and I couldn’t postpone her treatment for a stupid retreat. She was a seventeen-year-old kid who had fallen off a rock wall and could barely sit straight without crying. Carla could wait for that.
“They’ll tow it!” she said frantically, straightening from the car and giving me a crazed look. “I can’t afford that!”
“So, remember gas next time,” I shot back heartlessly. I wasn’t going to pretend like forgetting to fill your car with gas before a five-hour trip made any sense whatsoever. She gave me a downcast look. I sighed, ending it on a growl. “I’ll call the local PD and tell them why it’s there, and then I’ll explain that we’ll be back for it. Okay?”
“Okay,” she said, but her face didn’t seem to agree with her words. She really hated me. Which was probably for the best because my body was doing funny things with her in close proximity, and I didn’t need a nightmare like June Matthews in my fantasies.
She climbed into the seat next to me, and her eyes bounced all over the new car. Then she patted her hands together in a nervous, silent clapping gesture I’d seen her do before.
I retrieved my shades from the compartment. “Seatbelt,” I reminded her. She turned fast, zipping the belt down and clicking it into place. I gave her a sardonic look. “I’m not going to demand a pound of flesh for giving you a ride to Jackson, Matthews.”
She gave me an irritated glance. “I’m not afraid of you, Dr. Brady. I just don’t like owing people favors.”
“Amos,” I said, putting on the sunglasses and switching off my hazards. “And I like it when people owe me favors. I like to collect on them,” I added with a grin.
She mimicked me silently, turning to look out the window. “Whatever.”
Little brat,I thought with a flare of amusement. I made sure the road was clear, and then I stepped on the gas.
June gave a soft squeak of outrage as I gunned it to sixty in less than four seconds, and her hands jumped out to the side, grabbing whatever she could as I plastered her body against the seat. Her left hand grabbed my forearm, but she didn’t seem to notice as we climbed to seventy in a blink.
When I leveled out, barely managing to keep from snickering, she rapidly unclamped her hand from my arm and wedged them both between her bare, pale legs. Trying really hard not to smirk, I turned up my music again.
She gave me a reproachful glare. “Very funny.” I shrugged, schooling my features into a smooth mask.
June listened to the Amaranthe song for a minute, and then she got an incredulous smile that dimpled her one cheek. “You likegirl rock?”
I bristled. “It’s heavy metal.”
“It’s a Swedish girl band,” she insisted, still smiling like she’d found a pair of my underwear in the clinic waiting room. “It’s ABBA for goths.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Okay, snarky, what doyouwant to listen to, then?”
She pulled a pair of wireless, rose gold headphones from her small backpack between her feet. “Not rage queens of darkness. I have an audiobook,” she said primly.
“You read smut, don’t you?” I teased.
Dark red crept up her cheeks. “It’s romance,” she muttered.
I felt my grin widen. “Oh my God, you read porn.”
“It’s not porn!” she protested and snapped her headphones to her ears. I wondered if she could hear through all that springy hair.
I tried to wipe away my half grin. “Sure, it’s not.”
