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“Take the car to do your deliveries,” West suggests.
I snort. “Don’t be ridiculous.” I glance at Zeke, hoping for backup, but he just watches the three of us, an intense expression on his face.
“Why is it ridiculous, shorty?” Xander asks.
“Because I am abikemessenger. I’d never get anywhere with city traffic, and I’d get parking tickets every time I stopped. Besides, it’s wasteful and bad for the environment to drive around in a car all day.”
Resigned, Xander shakes his head, and West plants a kiss on the top of mine. “We’ll take you and the death trap to work this morning.” He checks his watch. “Or you’ll be late.”
“And whose fault is that?” I murmur.
“Entirely yours, brat.” He swats my ass on his way to the coffee machine.
* * *
I grabmy parcels for the afternoon and go to the bike shed in the lobby of the Grayson News building. I glance around, sure that I left Betty in her usual spot, but she’s not here. Nobody in their right mind would steal her.
I pop my head out of the small space and jerk my chin at the security guard. “Hey, Stan. Did you see anyone walk out of here with my bike?”
“Yeah. Your friend, Mr. Archer. He told me to tell you that he took it.”
What the hell? “And you just let him? How am I supposed to make my deliveries?”
He passes me and goes over to the corner of the shed, pointing at a brand-new bike. “He left you this one as a replacement. That’s some friend you got there.”
My eyes widen at the sight of the top-of-the-line electric bike. “He left me that?”
“Sure did. She’s a beaut.”
“She’s not Betty,” I grumble.
“Yeah. Lucky for you, huh?” Laughing, he nudges my arm and leaves me alone with Betty 2.0.
Left with no other option—for now—I grab the fancy bike and spend a full five minutes cursing West before I accept what I already knew. This thing is a dream; with its effortless handling and ridiculously plush seat, I find myself falling in love. With the bike.
As much as I want to be pissed at West, the fact that I get my packages delivered in half the time it usually takes, without causing any accidents, makes it impossible.
* * *
I throwmy hands in the air. “You can’t just buy me a four-thousand-dollar bike, West.”
He rolls his eyes and turns his back to me, pouring himself a Scotch while he watches Zeke chop carrots like it’s the most fascinating thing in the world.
“And where did you put poor Betty?”
He turns and frowns. “Betty?”
“Her bike,” Zeke explains.
I blink at the back of Zeke’s head. I don’t know why I’m so surprised that he remembers. I guess he pays more attention to me than he lets on.
West scoffs. “You mean the death trap?”
“I mean my beloved bicycle that I’ve had for six years and who has been with me through…” I swallow the words on the tip of my tongue. “A lot,” is all I whisper.
Xander wraps me in a hug. “Relax, shorty. She’s downstairs in the basement.”
“Oh.” Some of the tension eases out of my body. “You still can’t just buy me an expensive bike like that.”
