Page 23 of Own the Eights
“What are you doing?”
“Processing,” she answered.
He exhaled a tight breath, taking out his phone and checking his texts. “Can you process and walk at the same time? I’d settle for a meandering walk at this point.”
She opened her eyes. They looked glassy, but she blinked the emotion away. “Do you realize how awful this is for me?”
“For you? What about me?” he balked.
Georgie stood and started for the door, and he was right on her heels. They entered the elevator, and he hit the button for the lobby.
“I should have known,” she muttered.
“Known what?”
She threw up her hands. “That it couldn’t be that easy. That they’d throw in a curveball.”
He should have figured that as well, but he wasn’t about to admit that to her.
“It is what it is,” he said.
She shook her head and met his gaze in the elevator’s reflection. “Where’s the challenge event?”
“They just texted an address,” he answered.
She frowned. “That’s it? Only an address?”
They stared at each other, and he knew she was thinking the same damn thing he was.
How the hell am I going to win with this joker?
He blew out a breath. “We’re supposed to use techniques from our respective philosophies to illustrate how to meet a soul mate at this location.”
“Okay,” she answered, her bottom lip trembling when the doors to the elevator opened, and she took off like a shot.
Christ! She could move in those stupid sandals.
“Hey, we need to talk!” he called after her.
She sprinted the short distance to a car that looked as if it had seen better days and got in. The upside? There was a good chance that even if she drove off, he could run alongside it and keep up.
He gestured for her to roll down the window. She cranked the handle, and the gears screeched and squeaked until the damn thing was cockeyed and half-open.
“I’ll meet you there,” she huffed, not giving him a second glance as she tried to start the car with no luck.
He took a step back. “It’s probably your battery.”
She banged her forehead on the steering wheel and emitted the girliest, angry yelp he’d ever heard.
“I know it’s the battery! My dad was a mechanic. I was just hoping I could get another month or so out of it.”
“My dad was a mechanic, too,” he blurted, surprised he’d admitted it. He’d done his best to keep as much of his old life out of his Marks Perfect Ten Mindset world.
She banged her head on the wheel two more times, and he cringed.
“Could you knock that off. It would be nice to have a teammate without brain damage.”
She glanced up at him and scoffed. “Are you ever not a giant douchebag?”
