“I need to do a diagnostic at the shop to see if it was a worn fuse, or if there is a short somewhere.”
“Well? What are you going to do? Stand there? Replace it!” she exploded.
“Yeah, I’ll just pull a fuse out of my ass that will only blow again if there’s a short.” He patted down his pockets, mockingly.
I put a hand over my mouth to hide my smile, loving every second of their showdown.
“Luke Barrett!” she huffed with clenched fists, her handbag making a crackling sound that no bag should in one. “Do something!”
He smirked, reaching in his pocket to pull out a pack of cigarettes. “Do you want me to have it towed in?”
Her hands flew above her head, nearly launching the Birkin into the sky. “Towed? Like I’m some peasant?”
He lit a cigarette, taking a step back. “I don’t think peasants have sports cars.”
“I can’t have my car on the back of a tow truck! People will talk!”
“About what?” he asked, taking a frustrated inhale of smoke, a sight I’d seen a thousand times.
Figured he hadn’t quit yet. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen a woman suffer for years with cancer. Idiot.
“My vehicle being a hunk of junk, Lucas!” She spoke through clenched jaws, practically snarling.
“None of these people will notice, let alone give a flying fuck.”
Her eyes practically bugged out of her head at his calm, cool response.
I couldn’t help but laugh, doing my best to stifle it, but both of them heard it loud and clear. Lynette glared at me through the window, while Luke stiffened at the sound.
She turned back to him, flustered as can be. “Have it towed to your shop, and my assistant will pick it up when it’s ready.”
Luke angled away, letting out another puff of smoke. “I’ll have one of my guys pick it up in the morning, so no one sees your broken-down carriage.”
He always had a way of making you want to punch him and kiss him at the same time. It was part of his allure, and the reason he hadn’t been expelled in high school. It was probably why he wasn’t in jail, too.
“How am I supposed to get to Pete’s party?” she sniffled.
Luke took a step back, blowing a cloud of smoke between them as a barrier. “Call a friend?”
“They’re all there! And they’ll know my car is a piece of crap!” she wailed, throwing her head back with a sob and reminding me of Linc in his tantrum hey-day.
“Okay, well, fuck ‘em. If they won’t help you in a time of need, they aren’t friends, are they?”
She wiped her cheeks, streaking the fallen eye makeup into her foundation. “You’d never understand.”
“You’re damn right.” He shook his head, cigarette bouncing between his lips as he spoke. “I’ll have one of the guys bring it in. Have a good night.”
She stepped toward him through another cloud of smoke with a hand outstretched. “Can you give us a ride? Pete’s driver will take us home. I’ll drink too many martinis, and they’ll never know.”
“You’d rather drink too much than admit car trouble to your friends?” he laughed as he ran a hand through his hair, the dark brown tendrils hanging beyond his shoulders.
“Well, duh!” she groaned.
“You need new friends.”
She gestured towards her car, making me slump further into the leather, cursing my luck. “That’s why I’m out with Josie. She’s a doll.”
“I’m sure. Like Chucky.” The joke missed with Lynette, but I caught it along with the massive eye roll on his end.
“Can you please take us? Please?” she begged, clasping her hands together.
He hesitated, and I didn’t doubt he’d leave me to rot without batting an eyelash. “I’ll drop you off, but I’m not staying.”
“Oh, thank you, Luke! Thank you!”
I never dreamed my night would end with Luke Barrett in a car not once but twice. Nor did I think I’d step foot in Pete’s palace of perversion.
Shit.
Luke
I didn’t know what I did in a past life, but I must have fucked up.
Was I a mosquito?
A pushy mall kiosk worker?
A dickhead that hogged two parking spots?
Why else would Josie Roberts be in my truck?
Unfortunately, being a nice guy bit me in the ass, unable to leave the two women stranded.
Lynette chose the seat by the door to fuss with her makeup in the mirror. Her face was a mix of colors from the epic cryfest.
That left the woman I hated most next to me doing her damnedest to lean as far away as possible. Naturally, I had fun with it, spreading my arms wide with each turn of the wheel, making sure our arms brushed just to hear her quick inhale of breath.
The ride to Pete’s was saturated with Lynette’s constant babbling, delivering doses of self-praise that would make Narcissus groan, while Josie stayed quiet.
We reached the wrought-iron gates of Casa de Creep in less than ten minutes, the French Provincial estate an ostentatious addition to the surrounding hills. Who had a house with turrets and Juliet balconies in fucking Maine?
“Isn’t it fabulous?” Lynette asked, whirling to face Josie, who jumped in surprise, bumping my arm.
She flinched before turning back to Lynette. “It’s nice.”
“Just nice? This is a ten-million-dollar estate, Josie!”
We rolled down the driveway; the property illuminated with lanterns while dozens of luxury cars lined the road, all the fancy folk foaming at the mouth to hang with Pervy Pete.
I parked in front of the monstrosity of a home, and Lynette hopped out, tits practically toppling out as she did, the pair of lady pillows easily passing for jousting honeydews.
Two women holding trays of champagne greeted her, likely freezing in their one-piece swimsuits. At a second glance, I realized they were wearing nothing but red body paint, nipples jutting out.
Josie spied them a second later, her breath hitching. Unlike Lynette, she stayed put.
Pete sauntered down the front steps in an open dress shirt and slacks, his blond hair crafted into its usual knockoff
