Page 23 of Worth Fighting For

“There doesn’t seem to be any room in the back seat of your car.”

“How did you know this was my car?” Shang says.

Mushu slides her gaze deliberately to the car before saying, “This car, just like its owner, is giving dad vibes.”

Shang laughs and says, “Okay. But what do you mean there’s no room in the back seat? There’s—Oh.”

The back seat of his car is stuffed with bags piled on top of one another, plus a huge cooler taking up all the remaining space.

“We ran out of room in the trailer,” one of the aunties calls out. “You don’t mind, right, Shang?”

“I may have suggested it to them,” Mushu says helpfully.

Shang sighs. “You didn’t think to suggest they put stuff inside Sultry?”

“James was smart enough to keep his car locked,” Mushu says. “Otherwise, yes, it would’ve gotten filled to the gills with Chinese barbecue pork and frozen wontons.”

“Smart guy,” Shang says.

“So,” Mushu continues, “I’ll go ride with the aunties. They all want to matchmake me with their sons, apparently.”

I frown. “I’ll go in the trailer, too.”

“No,” Mushu says. “Go with Shang. There’s no more space for you in the trailer.”

“What?” I say, but already she is walking away, waving a careless hand behind her.

“See you there, cuz!”

I watch her go. It’s slowly sinking in that I’m going to be in the car with Shang. Alone. On a five-hour car ride. I gulp, and though we are outdoors and there’s a pleasant breeze around us, the gulp is painfully audible. “Um…”

“You can put your bag in here,” Shang says, popping open the trunk.

“Uh, thanks.” I yank my bag next to the car and struggle to lift it.

“Let me help.”

“Nope,” I snap. I need to show him that I am more than able to handle this entire trip, never mind one stupid bag. One stupid, oversize, overstuffed bag.I’m normally a light traveler, I want to wail. I bend my knees, my quads straining as I grasp the bag with shaking hands, and lift. After a lot of very unattractive grunts, I somehow manage to pull it off the ground and onto the lip of the trunk. But as I shove it in, I hear a rip. “Oh no.”

Shang winces. “Sounds like it might’ve gotten caught on something.” He reaches over and easily lifts the bag one-handed. “The fabric’s a little torn.”

“That’s okay!” I say, trying not to let my face fall at the thought of my precious Samsonite bag all torn up. Maybe I should’ve accepted Shang’s help. But no, the whole point of this trip is to show them how manly I can be, and haven’t I proven that by lifting a bag I can easily fit my whole body into? I open the passenger-side door and slide in.This is a work trip, I remind myself.So what if you’re alone in a car with the most beautiful man you’ve ever come across? You are a professional, and this trip means everything to your father.Behave professionally and bring, uh, honor? No. Equity? Yes. Bring equity to the firm.

Then Shang gets in as well, and as soon as the doors shut, the nearness of him is overwhelming. I can feel every molecule of air spinning between us, can hear the sound of his breathing, the rustling of his clothes as he reaches for his seat belt. He occupies the space in a way that is impossible to ignore, filling all of my senses. When he finally turns the engine on, the sound of a podcast floods the car, and my shoulders unknot a little. Ambient noise, that’s good. That way, Shang won’t be able to hear the weird, neurotic thoughts speeding through my head. I try not to notice the way he turns the wheel with one hand while the other is—ack!—placed on my headrest as he backs the car out of the parking space. He’s totally going to catch me stealing glimpses of his forearm. Why is one-hand steering so freaking sexy?

The thing is, I’m not sure why I’m so nervous around Shang. Sure, he’s devastatingly handsome, but so are plenty of other men; we are in California, after all, a state teeming with avocados, matcha lattes, and hot guys. Maybe it’s because there is so much riding on me impressing him and his family, on striking just the right note with them. Yes, that’s it. When it comes to romantic relationships and past boyfriends, I’ve never had to work hard to impress them or their families, simply because I’ve never really cared about a guy that deeply. But with Shang, it’s about a deal, it’s about making and preserving connections—guanxi—and that’s so much more important than any romantic relationship.

I force myself to focus on the present moment. The narration coming from the stereo catches my attention. “What podcast is this?”

Shang spares me a quick glance. “It’s not a podcast. It’s an audiobook.” He hits a button and it stops playing.

“An…audiobook?” The word is so alien to me that it comes out sounding like a foreign language.

“Yeah, you know, like a novel, but in audio format?”

“I know what an audiobook is, I just…have not come across an actual person who listens to them.”

“That’s because you’re a finance bro.”

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