His mouth fell open. Her look of satisfaction steamrolled over him. “You are blackmailing me! Dammit, that’s a crime!”
“Prove it. Where’s your car?”
He cursed viciously, pulled out his keys, and marched down the street. “You’re a hypocrite. The worst kind. Pretending to be all good and wholesome and kind, when underneath you’re completely spiteful.”
“You’re delusional. I’m doing this for the good of a higher power.”
“And you’re a liar. Isn’t that bad karma or something?”
She hummed something maddening under her breath, easily keeping up with his stride with those long legs. “You worry about your karma, and I’ll worry about mine.” He stopped at the curb and went to pull open the door. “Please tell me this is not your car.”
He shoved his anger aside for a moment to puff up with male pride. His sweet baby was his pride and joy, and he didn’t get to drive it half as much as he craved. “It is. A 1965 Pontiac GTO Tempest, 335 horsepower, 389-cubic-inch engine. Montero red.” He waited for her long sigh, but she curled her lip in disdain, hitting him with one of those arctic gazes.
“This car should be a crime,” she said primly. “We’re on a mission to save the earth, and you’re destroying it with this hunk of metal and dirt. Besides being a gas guzzler, it’s completely inefficient. The emissions alone should be criminal.”
Now she’d gone over the line. Mess with his job or his friends, but no one insulted his car. He lowered his voice to a warning. “Dirt? Careful. I restored this car and rebuilt it piece by piece. She’s a classic you can’t appreciate.”
“A classic nightmare,” she muttered. “Do you know they actually make cars that help the environment instead of harm it?”
“And you couldn’t get up a hill. This one goes zero to sixty in record time. Bet you have one of those ridiculous Fusions or something.” Her startled look made him laugh. “So predictable. Now get in.”
She shivered with distaste and carefully slid onto the black leather seat. He sucked in a breath filled with that old car/new car smell and revved the engine. The loud growl still got him excited. He revved the engine, the loud noise a symphony to his ears, while she made all sorts of faces and talked to herself under her breath. Stone pulled onto the road and headed toward the far edge of town. The sheer dimensions of the car reminded him of a bully in school, taking up the entire hallway while the other kids shrunk away. Total badass.
She did not look as impressed.
“It’s huge,” she complained. “Almost indecent.”
“Aww, now you’re flattering me.”
She stiffened her shoulders in that puritanical way of hers and gave him another look. His body roared to life, completely contradicting his mental state. She’d be smokin’ if she had those librarian glasses she could peer over. With a Britney Spears Catholic school outfit. Oh, yeah, he so needed to get laid. He was losing it. Arilyn Meadows probably had sex with the lights off, in a proper bed, with her eyes closed. She didn’t look like the wild screaming type.
“Very funny,” she sniffed. “Again, I feel bad for your date.”
“Trust me, I’d feel worse for yours.” She glowered, and they were off and running again. If she was gonna force him to help with her ridiculous plan, he’d at least control the conversation. “Honestly, I’m curious. What type of men do you date?”
Her body language told him he’d hit a hot spot. She shut down, gazing out the window. “Men with morals,” she finally said. “Men with ideals of what they want to give to the world. Men who serve a higher purpose.”
Stone rolled his eyes. “No wonder you’re so backed up. There’s no such thing. Men like that simply don’t exist.”
She jerked in her seat and swiveled her gaze around. Her tone warmed to a molten lava heat of general pissiness. “That’s ridiculous, of course they do. I’ve dated them!”
“They lied to you. Men are simple creatures. We’re controlled by our id. Food, sex, work. More sex, and we’re pretty damn happy. We’re simple.”
The shocked expression made him feel a bit bad for her. Did she really believe there were men who followed their higher morality over their dicks? Well, he was sure many tried but few succeeded. She needed a wake-up call or she’d spend the rest of her life chasing a dream that didn’t exist.
“I disagree. The last man I dated focused on his spiritual work and craved to be a better man. He was sweet, giving, a great listener and supporter. He transcended the physical.”
Stone groaned. “If he’s so great, how come you’re still not together?”
“It’s none of your business,” she snapped. “This is a stupid conversation anyway. I bet you think jumping into bed with anyone just to scratch an itch is acceptable.”
“It’s definitely fun. When was the last time you had real fun?”
“I have fun all the time. I go out with my friends on the weekends. I volunteer with charities I’m passionate about. I practice yoga, and take care of dogs, and spend time with my grandfather.”
He laughed. “Yeah, I bet Grandpa is a barrel of laughs.”
“He’s more fun than you’d ever be. At least I have a ton of outside interests. What do you do when you’re not buried in your all-important job?”
“Tons.”
Her mocking laugh scraped his nerve endings. “Hmm, let me take a wild stab at this. You drink beer with some cops. Shoot a bit of pool. Maybe lift a few weights at the gym. But basically you’re a workaholic who spends most of his time alone. Even your dating probably is wrapped up in your inane ideas about women and sex. Keep it to the physical so no one figures out you’re not cool. God forbid a woman messes with your career, or Friday nights at the pool hall. You, Stone Petty, are just as big a hypocrite.”