Miss Mechanic - Page 54

“You don’t know that.”

“Oh, did a car put those scratches at the very top of your back?”

I froze.

Aw, shit. Jamie’s nails weren’t long, but they were long enough to leave a mark. And since she’d been digging them into me only a few hours ago, I knew my sister wasn’t bluffing.

I grabbed a clean t-shirt and threw it over my head with a glare her way.

She grinned.

“What does it matter?” I asked, pulling off my dirty socks. I threw them in the laundry basket. “It’s just food.”

“Food with a girl you had sex with. In the middle of the day. You don’t even call girls you sleep with, never mind take them for dinner after.”

“Okay, for a start, I’m not taking her for dinner. I’m taking dinner to her.” I paused. “And I don’t need to take girls I’ve had sex with for dinner after, because the food generally comes first. That’s how I get them into bed.”

Roxy raised an eyebrow. “Then how did you convince Jamie to have sex with you?”

“My stunning personality, clearly.”

“You have a personality?”

“Get out of my room,” I deadpanned. “Now.”

She got up and left, laughing her ass off as she went.

I hated my sister sometimes. I couldn’t believe she was fucking thirty next month.

I swung my door shut and finished getting changed. It was a miracle I’d managed a shower before Roxy had come in and started bugging me, all because I’d told Pops I didn’t need dinner tonight because I had plans.

My sister had, obviously, jumped to all the right conclusions.

I finished getting ready and went downstairs. I managed to get out unscathed and into my car where I was able to run and get pizza.

Half an hour later, I pulled up outside Jamie’s house and got out of the car, pizza boxes in hand. The rich smell of melted cheese and hot bread emanated from the boxes, and my stomach rumbled before I could knock on the door.

I paused, waited for it to pass, then rapped my knuckles against the door.

Silence.

Her car was here, so she had to be home.

I knocked again.

“I’m coming!” came a shout from behind me.

I turned and saw her running down a stone path through the yard. She was wearing yoga pants, and her crazy air circled her head like a freaking mane as she came barreling toward me.

“Crap! Sorry. Shit!” She almost tripped over her own feet right in front of me, but I was quicker than her fall, and I managed to grab hold of her upper arm and steady her.

“Whoa, speedy. Where did you just come from?”

She looked up at me with slightly glazed eyes and grinned giddily. “My parents’. It’s right over there.” She pointed to the bigger house behind some trees.

“Are you…are you drunk?” My lips twitched.

She pouted and frowned. “Noooo. I had a little wine, but I’m not drunk. Not really drunk.”

“You look a little drunk.”

She pressed a finger to her lips and shushed me. Then, as if she’d forgotten why I was here, she looked at the pizza boxes and her eyes widened. “Oh, pizza! Let’s go inside. I have my keys here…” She slipped her hand inside her bra and pulled a small brass key. “Ta-da!”

I raised an eyebrow. “You put it in your bra?”

“Yeah.” She looked at me as though it was totally normal. “Where else would I put it?”

“In your pocket?” I patted mine for good measure, and my keys jingled.

“I did put it in my pocket.” She touched the side of her boob. “You can keep phones, keys, cash… Literally anything in your bra.”

“Can we discuss this inside? As thrilling as it is, the pizza is getting cold.”

She gasped. “Shit. Okay. Yes. Hold on.” She bent right forward and put the key in the door.

I mean, she tried to put the key in the door. She aimed and…missed.

“Oops.” She giggled. “Hang on.” She tried another two times and missed both times.

“I got it. Here, hold—never mind.” I readjusted the pizza boxes and took the key from her. I got it in first try and unlocked the door. “Go on, tipsy. Inside.”

“I’m not drunk!” And she tripped over the doorframe.

“No, you look perfectly sober.”

She giggled behind her hands and sat on the sofa. Sighing heavily, she pulled her feet up onto the cushion and crossed her legs. Then, she peered over at me, up through her dark eyelashes, grinned, and patted the sofa next to her.

Yep.

She was drunk.

She could barely look me in the eye all afternoon.

I took the key out of the door and dropped it in the bowl next to the door before shutting it. “I’m torn between staying and making sure you don’t throw up and leaving this pizza with you and trying again tomorrow.”

She clapped her hands against her cheeks. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I ruined the date.”

Tags: Emma Hart
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