Don't Hex and Drive (Stay a Spell #2) - Juliette Cross Page 0,4
and put them in a Ziploc bag I had in my handbag to dispose of later. “I’m so happy I was able to get you ahead of schedule. Nothing better than ticking off your to-do list early.”
“Mmm. Unfortunately, I had a brunette witch on my list, not a blonde.” His gaze roved from the top of my head to down around my shoulders before he moved his attention back to the road.
“Do you have something against blondes?”
I prepared myself for a dumb blonde joke or something else equally offensive. What I wasn’t prepared for was his sultry reply.
“Not at all, darling. I’m a lover of all women.” His gaze caressed my face, shimmering with silver in the dark interior of his car. “I don’t discriminate.”
Darling? Lover? What was he talking about? Wait. Was he flirting with me? What nerve!
“Let me get this straight.” A shocked laugh belted up my throat. “You speed down an unfamiliar road, hit someone with your Porsche, send her flying into the air, injure her ankle, break her expensive, imported plant, and then decide to flirt with her?”
He muttered a curse in another language, but when he spoke, he was all silky sensuality like before.
“First of all, love. This is not a Porsche. This is a Diablo GT Lamborghini, one of the finest Italian cars money can buy.” His tilted smile might as well have added silly little girl. “Second, why are you so sure this is an unfamiliar road to me? I could live right around the corner.”
He could turn off that smooth-talking charm immediately because it wasn’t working on me. “Turn right.”
He downshifted and slowed on the turn.
“You said so yourself you’ve just arrived in town,” I bit back accusingly. “And anyone who lives in this neighborhood knows not to drive their Lamborghini Devil down this road like a bat out of hell.”
“It’s Diablo.”
“Diablo. Devil. All the same.” I snapped my first-aid kit shut and shoved it in my bag, smiling sweetly at him. “It suits you well, I’d say.” Then I pointed. “Stop here. This is my house.”
He maneuvered onto the curb, staring at our two-story bungalow-style house, his gaze wandering to the driveway with keen interest. Kind of creepy-keen interest, actually.
“Something wrong?” I asked as I opened the passenger door.
He snapped out of whatever daze he was in. “Not at all.” He flashed me a bright smile, then traced in vampire speed around the car before I was even fully standing.
“I’ve got it,” I protested, trying to hobble.
He swept me back up into his arms, ignoring me again. I’d have objected but, to be honest, my ankle was already swollen twice its size, and it would’ve hurt too much to try to make it on my own. I might be stubborn, but I wasn’t an idiot. Still, it was pissing me off to no end to have to depend on this guy who happened to cause my injury in the first place.
With a thorough push of magic, the familiar tingling sensation shooting through my veins, I opened the wrought iron gate at the front. He glanced down at me, all congenial and smiling, like he hit women with his car and carried them around for the fun of it every day of his life. I tried to ignore how he maneuvered me in his strong arms like I weighed nothing, his powerful strength on full display. But of course, all vampires were exceptionally strong. No need to ponder on his.
While I didn’t have the fuller curves like my sisters, I was the tallest. I loved my height. I owned it, relishing the fact that I could look most men eye-to-eye. Or even down at them. But not this one. His powerful physique and easy strength made me feel strangely vulnerable. It wasn’t a feeling I was used to, and I didn’t like it.
Before we made the steps to the front porch, the heavy front door swung open.
“Well, this is interesting,” said my sister Violet, a red Twizzler hanging out of her mouth, one hand on the door. “What did you do?”
“What do you mean what did I do?”
“I’m sorry to say,” the vampire interrupted smoothly while carrying me into the house, “that I hit your sister on her bike.”
Violet heaved out a breath. “I knew this would eventually happen.”
“Thanks for your sympathy, Violet.”
She shrugged, walking ahead of us toward the living room. “You look alright.”
Kicking up my leg with my swollen ankle, now about three times its normal size, I replied, “Yeah,