“Friends of yours?” I tease, rolling us forward as the light turns green. The wind rips away her laugh, but I can feel how it makes her body shake.
Too bad everything tenses as soon as I park in her driveway. Wick hops off the bike before I’m fully stopped, already fiddling with the chinstrap buckle. “So how’d you get caught up with Joe?” she asks.
The best lies are built on truth, but this one feels like a low blow. “He stopped by the school.”
“Seriously?” Wick passes me the helmet, color draining from her face. “Was he trying to steal something?”
Odds are, Joe was looking for one of his dealers. There are two or three of them who work the high school circuit. He could easily have been looking for them. Judging from Wick’s reaction though, she doesn’t think he was. She’s scared and I’m confused. Whatever Carson thinks Wick is, whatever I thought she was, we’re both wrong.
So it makes me even more of a dick for using Wick’s fear against her, but if she thinks I’m on her side, she might confide in me. “No, I think he was looking for you.”
Wick doesn’t say a word. She wraps her arms around her middle like I kicked her in the stomach—and looking at her like that makes me feel like someone just kicked me.
I spin the helmet, watching her. “My dad’s brother was picking me up. He knows Joe and they started talking. Paul—that’s my uncle—told him I was good with computers. One thing kind of led to another.”
Her head rears back. “No, one thing does not lead to another. We’re scamming people. How the hell does a nice kid like you get caught up in credit card fraud?”
I stop, stare. Can we say arrogant? Wait just one damn minute.
“First of all, I’m not a kid.” I swing my leg over the bike, shoving the helmet onto the seat, and—before I can talk myself out of it—I grab her hand. “Secondly, I’m not so nice.”
Wick doesn’t move, doesn’t blink. She does try to stare me down.
It’s kind of impressive since I have almost ten inches on her.
I lean in. “I’m not nice. If I were, I wouldn’t have been there and you’d still be avoiding me.” I pause. This would be about the time that any other girl would deny avoiding me, but this one just looks like she’d like to kick me. Fine. Another approach.
I straighten, shrug. “Look, I really need the cash.”
A little embarrassing, but worth it when her shoulders relax. She bumps her chin toward my bike. “Looks like you’re doing okay.”
“This was my dad’s. Only thing he left behind when he took off for California . . . aside from me, aside from my mom, who still thinks he’s going to rescue us. She’s not even getting out of bed anymore she’s so fucking depressed. She lost her job because she stopped showing up, and the food stamps go only so far.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean—”
“I know. Sorry. I shouldn’t snap at you. I’m just tired.” I turn my attention to her palm, unable to believe I just confessed that much. Swear to God, this girl makes me stupid. “Even after everything Joe said, I never expected to see you sitting there.”
She shrugs. “Life’s just full of surprises.”
“No shit.”
Now we’re both just staring at each other. I need to move this along, get info for Carson and earn my keep . . . so why am I hesitating?
“You should quit while you still can, Griff,” Wick says at last. “It’s not good for you. I’m not good for you.”
I open my mouth, shut it. I have no idea what to say. I’ve never had anyone stand up for me. I mean, yeah, she’s being condescending as hell about it, but Wick’s the first person who agrees I should get out.
“I appreciate the ride home and all,” she adds. “But it doesn’t change anything. You really should stay away from me.”
Wick starts to pull away, but I don’t let go. I skim my fingers farther up, touching the thin skin of her wrist. Her heartbeat hammers against my fingertips.
It makes us both swallow.
White is showing all around Wick’s eyes, but when I drag my fingers higher, her breath catches.
“You sure you’re not good for me?” I ask, praying my voice doesn’t crack.
“I’m very sure I’m not good for you.” Wick places both hands against my chest and shoves. I let go. It’s what she wanted . . . and yet she’s swaying now, like her knees are crumbling. I want to catch her. “And I don’t think you’re very good for me either.”
She’s effing right about that. The space between us is a good thing, gives me a chance to think. What the hell am I doing?
Wick pivots, marching up the sidewalk to her house with stiff arms and a rigid neck. I should take the freaking hint. Forget getting her to trust me; I’ll be lucky if she doesn’t bite me. The girl’s difficult, touchy, defensive—
My teeth grind together. “I think you’re wrong, Wicked.” I’m not sure if I want to laugh or kick myself. “I think you’d be great for me.”
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