Page 144 of The Oscar Escape
“Sorry, I’m so hard-headed,” she whispered to her parents, the universe, or whatever force was working overtime to show her how to shut out the noise and embrace who she was—who she always was.
She beamed at the officer.
The man cocked his head to the side. “Are you wearing a shirt covered in lobsters?”
She glanced at her top. It was dark, but a nearby light post partially illuminated the inside of the car. “Yes, sir, I am. Are you a fan of lobsters?” she asked as she rode a current of pure excitement.
“We’ve had some road rage reports of a woman with a similar description.”
Oh shit!
Aria eased back into the shadows, sank into the plush seat, and buckled her seat belt. “Yeah, well, I wouldn’t know anything about that. We better go. Chop, chop! We’veten twenty-three’dfor long enough.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the officer answered and activated the siren.
She breathed a sigh of relief.
Raz clapped his hands. “Let’s do this.”
Two squad cars pulled ahead as two more coasted in from behind.
Landon revved the engine in his sports car. “Lead the way.”
And they were off.
“You know what ten twenty-three is, don’t you? Besides a police code,” she asked as they sped out of the cemetery complex and onto the boulevard.
Landon chuckled. “Oscar’s birthday.”
“Yeah.” She glanced over her shoulder and looked past the flashing lights as the cemetery disappeared. “How did you know I wouldn’t flake out and skip the concert?”
“Because you’ve got your mother’s grit and your father’s dedication. I knew you’d figure out what to do. I also knew it would take nearly an act of God to get you there. Heaven help you, Aria! You’re one doggedly stubborn woman.” A sweet grin graced his lips. “Lucky for you and your aunt, those are the kind of women I admire most. Long story short—you know your heart, kid, and it only took a little grand theft auto, a cemetery visit, and a police escort to get you there.”
“An eat-worms girl does retain a certain unyielding temperament.” She leaned forward and studied her uncle as gratitude washed over her. “You forgot to mention the part you played in this. A part you’ve been playing for almost twenty years. I learned a little something about love and life from you and Aunt Harper.”
“And what’s that?”
“I learned to believe in magic—nanny-love-match magic.”
Her uncle patted her knee. “It’s the real deal, kiddo.”
It truly was.
She sat back as their police escort shuttled them through a red light.
As entertaining as it would have been to take in the siren-blaring, light-flashing spectacle, she had to focus. At this rate, they’d make it to the amphitheater before she knew it.
“I need eight dollars,” she said, snooping through the console for loose change.
“I think you have eight dollars, Aria.”
“I need actual cash.”
“What for?” the man asked, sounding a hell of a lot like he knew the answer.
“A marriage license. That’s the fee,” she explained.
“Try the glove box.”
