Page 19 of Reinventing Cato
Cato sat up and fiddled with the screen. “Through Kendal.”
“Any other options?”
“Yes, but no. The little white roads mean they’re covered in snow, right?”
Vigge smiled.
“It’s not worth risking a minor road,” Cato said. “If only we had flashing lights and a siren. Well, you could flash your lights and I’m pretty good at imitating a police car. Nee-naw, nee-naw.”
Vigge rolled his eyes. “I’d ask how old you were but we’ve had that conversation.”
“I’m a child at heart. Don’t mind if I keep napping, do you?” Cato settled again with his head against the window. “Just a few more minutes.”
Vigge kept snatching glances. Compared to him, Cato looked delicate with his insanely long eyelashes and sharp cheekbones. With or without the glasses, he looked sexy. Was that the remains of makeup around his eyes? His mouth was part open, his lips full and soft. He’d not shaved that morning and the stubble on his cheeks and chin made him look…Edgy. Dangerous.He was, becauseVigge wanted to touch him, drag his fingers through that choppy dark hair, stroke his rough cheeks, stroke much more than that.
It was hard to think of anything else.And I invited temptation into the car.He sighed.
They didn’t get through Kendal until after midday. Vigge decided to top up the fuel and buy food and water, in case they got stranded. When he turned into the petrol station, Cato opened his eyes and sat up. “Are we nearly there yet?”
“That was an excellent imitation of a bratty teenager.” It was.
“Well, are we?”
“No.”
Cato put on his glasses. “I’ll get the fuel. You want something to eat?”
“If you fill the car, I’ll buy the food.”
Cato grabbed his coat and put it on before he got out of the car. As Vigge headed across the forecourt, Cato shouted, “Buy condoms. The ribbed ones. Extra-large. And pineapple-flavoured lube. And I hope you’ve brought your handcuffs.”
Vigge spun round, horrified, but there was no one around to hear.
Cato grinned. “Do the best you can.”
Vigge shivered. He should have put his coat on too. It was icy cold. He slipped into the shop and sighed. Not much choice on a snowy New Year’s Day. He picked up a basket and put in bottles of water, chocolate bars, crisps, two warm cheese and onion pasties—the only hot food they had—and a box of mince pies. His mother hadn’t offered any rings of the cake and Vigge hadn’t wanted to ask again.
Cato came in to pay while Vigge stood at the coffee machine. He looked down at Vigge’s basket. “Browsing for food to sustain us just in case we’re cut off in the middle of nowhere and it turns out that you don’t find me very appetising? Though I find that very hard to believe.”
“Food to sustainus?”
“You’re not going to share? Do you have no sense of Christian charity?”
“No. Want a coffee?”
“Black please. No sugar.”
Vigge filled two paper cups and went to pay.
“Did you get the other stuff? If they don’t have pineapple flavour, I can cope with coconut. But the extra-large condoms are a must-have.”
The guy behind the counter turned beet-red.
“I’ll go back to the car and warm it up.” Vigge hurried out of the shop before he laughed.
When Cato came out carrying a plastic bag, Vigge wondered what he’d bought. Cato settled in the seat next to him and wriggled out of his coat.
“I’ll eat as I drive. You can feed me,” Vigge said.
