Blitz (Blast Brothers #3) - Sabrina Stark Page 0,54

"Call it gloss all you want, but I know lipstick when I see it."

I gave the front window another nervous glance. By now, the orange sports car had traversed most of the long driveway and was nearing the house.

Finally.

I hoisted my purse over my shoulder and bolted for the front door.

Before Chase's car came to anything resembling a stop, I was already on the front porch, tossing a quick goodbye to my parents.

I figured they'd stay inside.

I was only half right.

Mom stayed.

Dad didn't.

Instead, he followed me out onto the porch and stopped at the front railing.

Oh, boy. I picked up the pace and kept on going, making a beeline for Chase's car. By the time I reached the passenger's side door, Chase had already pushed it open from the inside.

I practically dove into the car and slammed the door shut behind me. I looked to Chase and said, "Alrighty then. I guess we should head out, huh?"

When I looked back to the porch, my dad was still there. His arms were crossed, and he was staring at Chase's car the way Grandma Lipinski used to stare at squirrels whenever they got into her bird-feeder.

In the driver's seat, Chase gave a slow shake of his head before shifting the car into reverse.

I didn't know what the head-shake was for, and figured I was better off not knowing. So I didn't ask. Instead, I watched in silent wonder as Chase backed all the way out of the long driveway just as easily as if he'd been going forward.

When he reached the end, I said with a nervous laugh, "Too bad there's not a contest for that."

He gave me a sideways glance. "For what?"

"You know, driving backwards."

He smiled. "Who says there isn't?"

At his smile, my stomach gave an irritating little flutter. "You mean like a car race in reverse?"

"No." His smile turned into a grin. "I mean demolition derbies."

Finally, I knew what he meant. Over the years, I'd attended an embarrassing number of demolition derbies. A popular strategy was to ram the other cars while driving in reverse, destroying their cars with your back end while keeping your front end – where the engine was located – intact and operational.

After a whole lot of crashing and smashing, the driver of the last car running was declared the winner.

Of course, around here, all of the cars involved were absolute beaters – old rusted hunks of junk doomed to destruction anyway.

Chase's car – whatever the heck it was – was the opposite of a beater. It was sleek and expensive, and still smelled brand new.

The only time my car smelled brand new was when I hung one of those "new-car-smell" air-fresheners from my rear-view mirror. And even then, it didn't compare to this.

As Chase pulled out onto the long country road that would take us to the fairgrounds, I joked, "So, are you gonna enter?"

Today, he was wearing jeans and a dark button-down shirt. But where I felt plain and ordinary whenever I wore jeans, Chase looked like some kind of movie star, cruising down the highway – except in our case, the highway was a long country road surrounded on both sides by open fields.

Chase said, "Enter what?"

"A demolition derby."

He gave me an inscrutable glance. "Hard to say. Ask me in a few weeks."

The answer wasn't surprising. With his money, he could decide last-minute and be fine. Probably, he'd simply send some lackey out to acquire a car all ready to go.

But I could hardly begrudge him such a thing, considering that he was the guy who'd saved the Tomato Festival – and provided a much-needed boost to festivals all over the Midwest.

And just when I'd decided that he might not be too obnoxious, he looked to me and asked, "So, what's the deal with your dad?"

Chapter 37

Mina

I stiffened in the passenger's seat. "Excuse me?"

"Your dad," he said. "What's his deal?"

I knew exactly what Chase meant. Still, I didn't appreciate the question or his tone. "There's no deal," I said. "He was just seeing me off, that's all."

With a low scoff, Chase said, "What, like you're heading out on a cruise?" He gave me a long sideways glance. "So it's a 'von voyage' thing? That's what you're telling me."

I shouldn't have to tell him anything. The question was rude and intrusive. Still, I grudgingly replied, "Yeah, it's sort of like that, I guess."

Chase laughed. "Yeah, right."

His laughter sounded nice, which only made it more annoying. Not bothering to hide my irritation, I said, "Well,