Forged in Stone - Alyssa Rose Ivy Page 0,25

you are making an effort to sound different now.”

“Does it?” I smiled and continued driving until we were far enough away from the city that we had hit open highway. I lowered the windows. “You ready for this?”

“Of course I am.” For the first time all night she sounded excited. “But it’s kind of cold to have the windows down.”

“It is all part of the experience, and you might want to hold on.”

“I’m buckled.”

“Yes, but we’re going to go fast.” I turned off the headlights so we would draw less attention. I needed to avoid a ticket. I did not have a driver’s license, fake or real. I was in no mood to deal with the cops.

“I’m fine. I’m not one of those girls who needs someone getting overly protective with them.”

“Suit yourself.” As we continued down the deserted highway I slammed on the accelerator gradually raising our speed and quickly shifting gears until we were well over 100 miles per hour. The surrounding landscape passed in a blur.

I dared a glance over to the passenger seat; she was grinning as the wind blew her hair around her face. She really did enjoy the speed. I took us to 120 miles per hour. She was still grinning, but she was holding on to her seat. I decided not to call her out on it. She was back in a good mood, and I refused to ruin that.

I slowed down enough to make a tight turn to get us headed back toward the city. I sped back up for as long as I could, but I slowed down as we neared the city.

“Thanks.”

“What are you thanking me for exactly?” I was back to a normal speed.

“The adrenaline rush. I needed it.”

“We have that in common.”

“You need a surge of it once in a while?” She pulled one leg up under herself. I liked how comfortable she was getting in my car.

“More than once in a while.”

“In other words, you’re reckless.”

“Not completely reckless, just not into boredom.”

“What do you do to handle that, aside from driving a fast car?”

“Considering this car has been in the garage for years, it has not been easy.”

“I hate boring too, but it beats sad. I’ve dealt with sadness.”

“So have I.” My life had never been picture perfect. I had mostly my father to thank for that.

“I guess most people have.”

“They have. Although some like to pretend otherwise.”

“I hate those people. You know? The ones who like to pretend their life is perfect to make you feel bad about your own.”

“Do not hate them, pity them. They are the saddest ones. Either they are in denial, or they are too scared to admit the truth. Insecurities and all that.”

“That’s a different way to look at it.”

“It is the only way to view it. Hate should be reserved for those who truly deserve it. It’s stronger that way.”

“It sounds like you know that from experience.”

“I do.”

We drove the rest of the way back in silence. I pulled into the driveway and hopped out to unlock the garage. I pulled the car in. “Ready to see how well I did at the store?”

“You’re really proud of your grocery shopping skills, aren’t you?” She got out.

“Very. I am hoping you are proud of your cooking skills to help pay me back.”

She carefully closed the door. “Is that a sexist comment?”

“No, but I was the one that shopped.” I was only playing with her. I had no problem doing the cooking. I had lived enough of my life alone to know how.

“Fair enough.” She walked around to the front porch, and I followed. I had a key to the front door now, but I let her unlock it. She turned on a light in the foyer.

I locked the door behind us. “Home sweet home.”

“I can’t believe you’re actually staying here.”

“Stop pretending it’s a bad thing. You are excited about the company.”

“I am?” She took off her jacket and carefully hung it on a hook in the hallway. Once again her personality gave me whiplash. An adrenaline junky who carefully hung up her coat? She took off her boots and placed them neatly by the door.

I shook my head and smiled.

“What?”

“Nothing.” I was not admitting to doing any more analysis of her personality. It wouldn’t go over well.

“Let’s go see how well you did.”

I took off my boots before following her into the kitchen. Clearly she believed in the ‘no shoes in the house’ rule.

Her eyes immediately went to the newly stocked