Page 86 of Rebel Summer

He shook his head. “No imagination, Books. This way, I bring the car to the island.”

I gaped at the scene, unable to take my gaze off of Da—his car.

He folded his arms across his chest, his eyes glinting steel.

“Five hours if you help me with this car, Books. Ten if you can shut up about it.”

I couldn’t help my smile any more than he could help the look of warning clouding his face. Taking a few steps into the room, I ran my fingers across the smooth orange paint.

“Ten hours? I don’t know. For that price, it might be pretty hard to keep things quiet. You know, with all the gossip at the cafe.” I turned to face him. “It’s just hard to not say things sometimes, in the heat of the moment…”

“Fifteen hours.”

I went on like I hadn’t heard him, wandering to the front of the car, which was raised up on a lift. With my hand on the open hood, I peered down at all the pipes, like I had some idea what I was looking at.

“Off the island, fine. I mean, you’re a car guy.” I motion to his tattoo. “You’re not hiding that. I’m sure people assume you own a car and that it’s parked nicely in the garage—the garage on the mainland, that is.”

I spared him a glance and was delighted at the smile softening his lips. For a moment, I was struck again by how utterly dangerous and alluring he could be. With his dark hair long and messy up top, and his jeans slung low across his hips, and the whole…no shirt thing.

Clearing my throat, I went on, “I mean, this is a 1969 Chevy Chevelle. I don’t know how I could keep that a secret for only fifteen hours.”

I thought I would impress him with my car knowledge, but instead his gaze narrowed, and he began walking toward me. I refused to back down from my stance of annoying him, even though my heart lurched at his growing proximity.

“That’s interesting, Books. I don’t remember you being much of a car girl. Unless you looked up my tattoo?”

A warm flush crawled up my neck. He took another step closer, and the fireworks this town had prepped for the party tonight had nothing on the sparks erupting inside of me.

“Doing some light internet stalking?” he asked.

I scoffed, taking a step back, my hand sweeping toward the car. “This is a classic. Everyone knows it.”

“They don’t. Unless they’re a car guy.” He folded his arms across his chest and gave me a knowing look.

“Or a car girl,” I corrected.

“Or a car girl,” he conceded. “Which you are not.”

Okay, fine. Hand me a pair of binoculars and call me a peeping tom. So I looked it up on the internet. Big deal.

“Twenty-five hours or I’ll tell the whole town what I know.” The words came out bold, but the smile would not retract from my face. After a really crappy beginning to my summer, it felt good to finally have something on Dax. He had been fooling this town for so long, and look at the rule breaker now.

“Fifteen hours and I won’t tell everyone you’re now an accomplice.”

I gasped while he laughed, husky and deep, his words bringing up memories of another night. And here we were again, ten years later, all grown up and?—

FOCUS, IVY.

“Twenty hours. Or I’ll tell Beau I’m a hostage, and you locked me inside against my will.”

“Against your will?” His words mocked me at the same time the dark pools in his eyes spiked my heart rate. “He’ll never believe that.”

I blinked, glancing at his lips before yanking them away. Taking a step away from him, I fought to bring us back to where I had the advantage.

“Twenty hours. I won’t tell anyone. And I’ll help you for a while.”

He looked amused at this statement. “What are you going to help me with?”

I looked around. I didn’t have any ideas, but I knew I didn’t want to go yet. The lure of the beach now felt lackluster compared to the spark flaring in his eyes.

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