“You’re delusional. I’m doing this for the good of a higher power.”
“And you’re a liar. Isn’t that bad karma or something?”
She hummed something maddening under her breath, easily keeping up with his stride with those long legs. “You worry about your karma, and I’ll worry about mine.” He stopped at the curb and went to pull open the door. “Please tell me this is not your car.”
He shoved his anger aside for a moment to puff up with male pride. His sweet baby was his pride and joy, and he didn’t get to drive it half as much as he craved. “It is. A 1965 Pontiac GTO Tempest, 335 horsepower, 389-cubic-inch engine. Montero red.” He waited for her long sigh, but she curled her lip in disdain, hitting him with one of those arctic gazes.
“This car should be a crime,” she said primly. “We’re on a mission to save the earth, and you’re destroying it with this hunk of metal and dirt. Besides being a gas guzzler, it’s completely inefficient. The emissions alone should be criminal.”
Now she’d gone over the line. Mess with his job or his friends, but no one insulted his car. He lowered his voice to a warning. “Dirt? Careful. I restored this car and rebuilt it piece by piece. She’s a classic you can’t appreciate.”
“A classic nightmare,” she muttered. “Do you know they actually make cars that help the environment instead of harm it?”
“And you couldn’t get up a hill. This one goes zero to sixty in record time. Bet you have one of those ridiculous Fusions or something.” Her startled look made him laugh. “So predictable. Now get in.”
She shivered with distaste and carefully slid onto the black leather seat. He sucked in a breath filled with that old car/new car smell and revved the engine. The loud growl still got him excited. He revved the engine, the loud noise a symphony to his ears, while she made all sorts of faces and talked to herself under her breath. Stone pulled onto the road and headed toward the far edge of town. The sheer dimensions of the car reminded him of a bully in school, taking up the entire hallway while the other kids shrunk away. Total badass.
She did not look as impressed.
“It’s huge,” she complained. “Almost indecent.”
“Aww, now you’re flattering me.”
She stiffened her shoulders in that puritanical way of hers and gave him another look. His body roared to life, completely contradicting his mental state. She’d be smokin’ if she had those librarian glasses she could peer over. With a Britney Spears Catholic school outfit. Oh, yeah, he so needed to get laid. He was losing it. Arilyn Meadows probably had sex with the lights off, in a proper bed, with her eyes closed. She didn’t look like the wild screaming type.
“Very funny,” she sniffed. “Again, I feel bad for your date.”
“Trust me, I’d feel worse for yours.” She glowered, and they were off and running again. If she was gonna force him to help with her ridiculous plan, he’d at least control the conversation. “Honestly, I’m curious. What type of men do you date?”
Her body language told him he’d hit a hot spot. She shut down, gazing out the window. “Men with morals,” she finally said. “Men with ideals of what they want to give to the world. Men who serve a higher purpose.”
Stone rolled his eyes. “No wonder you’re so backed up. There’s no such thing. Men like that simply don’t exist.”
She jerked in her seat and swiveled her gaze around. Her tone warmed to a molten lava heat of general pissiness. “That’s ridiculous, of course they do. I’ve dated them!”
“They lied to you. Men are simple creatures. We’re controlled by our id. Food, sex, work. More sex, and we’re pretty damn happy. We’re simple.”
The shocked expression made him feel a bit bad for her. Did she really believe there were men who followed their higher morality over their dicks? Well, he was sure many tried but few succeeded. She needed a wake-up call or she’d spend the rest of her life chasing a dream that didn’t exist.
“I disagree. The last man I dated focused on his spiritual work and craved to be a better man. He was sweet, giving, a great listener and supporter. He transcended the physical.”
Stone groaned. “If he’s so great, how come you’re still not together?”
“It’s none of your business,” she snapped. “This is a stupid conversation anyway. I bet you think jumping into bed with anyone just to scratch an itch is acceptable.”
“It’s definitely fun. When was the last time you had real fun?”
“I have fun all the time. I go out with my friends on the weekends. I volunteer with charities I’m passionate about. I practice yoga, and take care of dogs, and spend time with my grandfather.”
He laughed. “Yeah, I bet Grandpa is a barrel of laughs.”
“He’s more fun than you’d ever be. At least I have a ton of outside interests. What do you do when you’re not buried in your all-important job?”
“Tons.”
Her mocking laugh scraped his nerve endings. “Hmm, let me take a wild stab at this. You drink beer with some cops. Shoot a bit of pool. Maybe lift a few weights at the gym. But basically you’re a workaholic who spends most of his time alone. Even your dating probably is wrapped up in your inane ideas about women and sex. Keep it to the physical so no one figures out you’re not cool. God forbid a woman messes with your career, or Friday nights at the pool hall. You, Stone Petty, are just as big a hypocrite.”
She lapsed into a simmering silence, deliberately tuning him out. He opened his mouth to tell her a few hard truths, realized he didn’t have any, and shut up. Sure, he loved his job. That’s why he worked all the time, but he had plenty of outside interests. A lot. She had no idea what she was talking about, and he wasn’t about to waste his precious time arguing with her. This past relationship of hers had probably blown up in her face, and she was still sore. He’d bet his balls the guy had done something scummy. Maybe cheating. His cop instincts flared to life from her guarded expression and what he suspected was the real reason they’d broken up.
Transcendent, his ass.
He made a right onto Bluebird and scanned the area. Not much going on. The dead-end street held neglect and the stink of something illegal. Drugs? Teens? Or just people who’d fallen on hard times?
“The house at the end of the street. There.” She pointed toward a run-down ranch in puke brown. Weeds choked the yard, and empty bottles littered the ground. There was a large area in the back, behind the rusty metal gate, but he couldn’t see much from the curb. Stone parked, cut the engine, and studied the property. Lots of garbage cans. A charred fire pit. Seemed to be deserted, but he bet the place came alive at night. He may need to do a drive-by with Devine and make sure there wasn’t some kind of weed fest going on in his town.
“Let’s go.” She reached for the handle. His hand shot across the seat and circled her wrist before she could escape.
The feel of her soft skin sliding under his made him jerk, but he kept his grip firm. Holy hell, what was it about touching this woman that put all his senses on high alert? “Where do you think you’re going?”
That cute little frown marred her brow. “To check it out, of course. That’s why we’re here. Got your phone?”
He shook his head. “This isn’t some vice squad drama. We’re not allowed to go traipsing around on private property and snap pictures. Let’s walk to the end of the street and get close. Maybe we can see the backyard better.”
“Fine. Great plan, Officer.” This time he let her go, but he cursed under his breath and jumped out of the car. Her insulting tone made him want to prove what he could do to her as an officer of the law. Some good things. Some bad.
Very, very bad.
He made sure to look casual while he took in his surroundings. Yeah, they were definitely doing something back there. The yard contained a pile of rusty car parts, large paint-type cans scattered around, and a beaten-up doghouse. The wood was rotted, and the roof sagged. He stayed back, taking note of the tin bowl, a few leashes, and mud pits. A nasty smell radiated from the yard, like a rodent trapped under the porch. Ugh. Not a good situation. Bet there were rats running around.