Page 131 of Dream Chaser
“I make no promises,” I call back, and Iz elbows me. I glance down. She’s biting her lip and shaking her head.
“You okay?” I ask.
She nods. “Just wondering how the hell you got them all on your side.”
“They love you,” I say easily. “And I love watching you be loved.”
She opens the door, steps out into the cold night air, then glances back over her shoulder. “Well?” she asks. “You coming or what?”
I grin. “Oh, Izzy Ross, you have no idea.”
Walking out behind her, I watch the sway of that ass, an ass I’ve watched sway for a long time, but it’s even better now, ’cause that ass is about to be all mine.
Focus, I remind myself.
“Do we need to go get Wile or?—”
“He’s staying at Mom and Dad’s,” Iz cuts in quickly, like she’s already anticipated the question and has zero regrets about abandoning Wile for the night.
I reach out, curl my fingers gently around her forearm, and give the smallest tug toward my vehicle. “Then we’re going to my place tonight.”
She rolls her eyes, huffing, “What do you have against mine?”
I snort as I open her door. “Interruptions.”
She pauses at the step like she might argue, but gets in. “I have my people, you have yours. Tell me your fan club of lady card sharks back home wouldn’t interrupt.”
“Miss Lissette is going to love you.” I shut the door, jog around to mine, open it, and climb in.
“You realize they’re going to be harder on me than my parents were on you? So stop talking like that, or you’ll give me a complex.”
I lean in as I buckle her seat belt for her, slow and deliberate. “I’d like to give you a lot of things tonight, but a complex isn’t one of them.”
She freezes for half a second, eyes locked on mine, before biting her lip and whispering, “That was smooth.”
As I fire up the engine, she crosses her legs with deliberate sass and leans back like she’s suddenly in a music video and I’m just the poor bastard behind the wheel.
“Where we going?” she asks, knowing full well.
“To the stables,” I say, shifting into reverse.
“You planning on riding something?” She smirks.
“Yeah,” I mutter. “Eventually.”
She snorts then mutters, “God help me,” under her breath, but doesn’t look away.
“Too late.” I grin. “I already got you in the truck.”
The moon is bright above Blue Valley, with her beside me, half-laughing, legs tucked.
We’re not a quarter mile from the brewery when she unclasps our hands and sets hers on my thigh.
Chapter 27
Upper Hand
Izzy
