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“I’m dropping you off at your house.”
“Not if you plan on borrowing Fred’s truck.”
I angle my head in her direction. “Are you threatening me?”
“More like exploiting the situation for my benefit.”
My fingers turn white from clenching the steering wheel. “What do you need to do in Detroit?”
“I wanted to pick up a few supplies since I left most of mine back in San Francisco.”
“Like what?”
“Things that can’t be found at the general market on Main. Tracing paper, drafting tape, alcohol markers, etcetera.”
“Give me a list, and I’ll grab them.”
She peeks over at me through the corner of her eye. “The idea of being in a car with me for a few hours bothers you that much?”
While I’m tempted to agree, I don’t want to give her the satisfaction of being right. So, instead, I say something incredibly stupid. “I was trying to be nice and save you the trip.”
She laughs to herself. “Sure you were.”
My hands clench around the steering wheel as I pass Town Square and head toward the one-way road out of town with the one woman I was trying to stay away from.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Dahlia
Ididn’t mean to inject myself into Julian’s mission to save the Harvest Festival, but with me having one arm out of commission, I can’t exactly drive myself to the nearest city in search of interior design tools. Joining him is the best solution I’ve got.
Sure, I could order supplies online, but the estimated two-week delivery times have me quickly tossing out that idea. It’s either join Julian on this trip or wait two weeks for supplies I needed yesterday.
The two-hour drive flies by, with Julian quickly vetoing my playlist for his own. I’m pleasantly surprised by new artists I hadn’t heard of, and I find myself saving some of his songs to my own playlist.
Julian drives down a row of dark warehouses before stopping in front of the address his mom sent him.
“Is this it?” I look around the quiet street.
“According to my mom’s pin, yeah.”
I hop out of the truck despite Julian’s protests.
“Do you have any survival instincts?” He slams his door shut.
I pat my purse. “Of course. I’ve got pepper spray and enough self-defense classes to hold my own.”
“All it would take is one punch to your broken arm to have you begging for mercy.”
I blink. “You clearly thought that one out.”
He shoots me a look before heading toward the door. “Fuck.”
My brows rise. “What?”
“They’re closed.”
“No.” I check out the sign and confirm that fact while Julian calls his mother and explains our situation over speakerphone.
