for his face and Iâm almost pissed enough to say so.
âLittle worked up over octopus, arenât you?â He flashes a wolfish grin before his teeth disappear into another piece of the grayish rubber. Iâm tongue-tied with disgust.
âI donât appreciate being bullied into trying something I know I wonât like,â I say, fending off a tidal wave of nausea. Damn, the stuff stinks.
âSo you havenât tried it?â Nick says. He tugs on his lip ring with his top teeth while I pretend the motion isnât sexy as hell. Itâs more than the piercing. Thereâs something about the way he challenges me that really revs my engine. Jesus. I probably need a full team of therapists to analyze that shit. âSeems to me youâre just passing random judgment.â
Smoke billows from my ears like my brainâs spun a burn-out. He canât be serious. âThatâs a little like the pot calling the kettle black, donât you think?â
Nick smirks. âDonât you mean white?â
âUh, maybe we should change the subject,â Chelsea says.
âPerfect,â I say, shoving away my plate of octopus. âJust. Perfect.â
The serving staff files in loaded up with trays of food. Iâm sure Iâll never get used to it, fancy dinners with real china and a personal waitstaff that tops up my water glass and passes the salt. But as one of them sets a plate of steaming roast beef in front of me, my veins fill with liquid relief. Fuck Nick and his pretention. Iâm starving.
Roger tucks a linen napkin into the front of his button-up and lifts his fork and knife. âDid you find some new clothes at the mall, Emma?â
I freeze. The mall?
My sister stabs into a mountain of mashed potatoes that erupt with butter and stuffs her face. âSort of. Mr. Grasdal wasnât much help.â
Roger takes a sip of red wine. âWe donât talk with our mouths full at the table, young lady.â
Dinner etiquette. This should be entertaining.
Ems swallows.
âYou took the butler to the mall?â Chelsea sounds incredulous. âNext time, Iâll go with you.â
Emma brightens. âCan we still go in the limousine?â
âIâd rather take that sweet Camaro in the driveway,â Mat says.
Rogerâs spine stiffens.
âItâs a Chevelle,â I say. âNineteen-seventy.â
âSeventy-one,â Nick counters.
I turn my head to look at him. âClose enough. Theyâre basically identical.â
âNot quite. The grilleâs different on the seventy-one.â
I roll my eyes. âWell, excuse me, Mr. Car Expert.â
A smile plays on his lips. âJust think, I havenât even gotten into the changes under the hood. The improved fuel consumption, faster speedââ
âGo on. Iâm mesmerized.â
Iâm mostly joking, but there is something hot about the way Nick knows cars. Not in a douchey way like Kevin. Scratch that, Kevin faked it. Nick may be a jerk, but heâs not trying to be someone heâs not. I can respect that.
âAll right, cool it you two,â Chelsea says. âI donât know what youâre both getting worked up over. Itâs just a car.â
âA sweet car,â Mat says under his breath. âHow come itâs in the driveway and not atââ
Roger cuts him off with a sharp look of warning. âIt was my wifeâs, a gift on our twentieth wedding anniversary.â
I trace the gold rim of my fancy dinner plate. âA car like that should be in the garage, at least. Want me to park it for you?â
Roger leans back in his chair. âThe garage is off-limits.â He pins me with a look that says he knows what Iâm thinking. Interesting. Iâm always up for a challenge. âItâs my one rule. Break it, and there will be consequences.â
Tough talk. Too bad Iâm immune to Rogerâs
Charlie Richards
Caitlin Crews, Trish Morey
Patrick Ness
Paloma Beck
Cynthia Eden
Franklin Gregory
Peggy Gifford
John Scalzi
Kate Kingsbury
Sam Crescent