Page 25 of Wolf Cursed
“Don’t worry. Everyone always tells me I look like a snack.” He winked.
I laughed.
“Pray for me,” Idrissa said with mock suffering. Before I could formulate a response to any of this, she pointed at my cart and added, “So, can we help you get all this back to the Throttle?”
“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” I said.
“Yes, we do,” Isaac insisted with a look I couldn’t decipher but also couldn’t figure out how to say no to.
“The sooner you’re free to hang, the sooner we can kidnap you and hold you hostage until you agree to be our bestie,” Idrissa explained.
“It’s our master plan,” Isaac said, his eyes lit with a hope I couldn’t resist.
“I see,” I said slowly. “And how many others have you tried this plan with?”
“You’re the first,” Isaac said.
My brows rose.
“More of an experiment than a plan,” Idrissa added.
“Do you two always talk like two halves of one brain?” I asked.
Isaac grinned. “As a matter of fact, together, we sometimes equal one whole brain.”
“Depends on who you ask,” Idrissa said wryly.
I laughed. “Okay, a kidnapping sounds great. Especially if it involves a tour of the town.”
They exchanged an uneasy look.
“Okay, maybe tour is the wrong word.” I bit my lip. Something about these two felt a little risky but in a fun way. Maybe even in a friendship kind of way. It had been too long since I let myself make a friend. And even though it was in direct violation of Operation Temporary, I couldn’t walk away from the chance now that I had it.
“Nah, it’s perfect,” Isaac said. “You should know what you’re up against—”
Idrissa punched Isaac in the arm, silencing whatever else he’d been about to say.
I decided to leave it. For now. But… up against?
“Come on,” Idrissa said, hooking her arm through mine and leading me away from my cart.
“Um, my groceries—”
“Isaac will get it. Won’t you, brother?”
She didn’t give him time to argue before leading me outside. Behind us, I could hear Isaac complaining, his voice rising steadily with each declaration.
“This is why we have toxic gender roles,” was all I heard before the doors slid shut behind us.
Outside, Idrissa stopped in front of a white convertible mustang. Shiny, vintage though new looking, definitely running—unlike my own car.
“Wow, this is gorgeous,” I said.
“I wanted red, but Isaac talked me into this instead,” she said. “I’m warming up to it. White for purity and all that.”
I almost snorted. I didn’t know her well enough yet, but something told me no one would use the word “purity” in a sentence about Idrissa.
“Well, I’m in that blue one over there,” I said, leading the way toward Oscar’s Honda.
