Chase Me If You Can(22)

“More like eight to ten.” I grimace, glaring at Wes’s SUV. “I should just leave him here and go on my own.”

Of course, if I do that, and I get the cover shot while he’s cooling his heels, he’ll never shut up about it. I can practically hear him complaining that if I hadn’t left him, he could have gotten an even better shot. That I only won because I ditched him.

“Or,” Tracy says, drawing out the r. “You could both leave. In your car.”

“We’ll kill each other before we get out of Colorado,” I protest. But even as I say it, my mind wanders back to my kitchen. Wes didn’t have to go out and get me coffee or make us breakfast. Just like he didn’t have to do that promo for Mae. Maybe he’s not all bad—but I’m still not sure I want to be trapped in close quarters with him.

“If we get a good weather pattern, backtracking to pick up his car would cost us days of chasing. We could be stuck together for a while.”

“True.” Tracy hesitates, her tone turning contemplative. “You could always tell him if he pulls any shit you’ll drop him off at the closest airport.” And then, softer, “I think he’d behave, though. He’s really not a bad guy.”

“So you keep saying.” I blow out a breath and glance toward the garage. Signing off on a quote can’t take much longer. If I’m going to do this, I need to make a decision pretty quickly.

It’s not like Wes can just get any old rental, and I doubt the kind of SUV with good tires he’d need is going to be available last-minute right before a holiday. If we don’t go together, neither of us is going—and I really don’t want to sit around my house for the next couple of days.

“I’ll talk to him about it,” I finally relent. “Maybe. Probably.”

“For what it’s worth, I have a feeling it will go a lot better than you’re thinking.”

“I’m going to remind you of that when I dump him at an airport in two days.” Movement catches my eye as the garage office door opens. “Looks like he’s done with Eric.”

“See you in a few days!”

Before I can question her singsong tone, Tracy hangs up, and Wes is crossing the parking lot in his long, ground-eating strides. I’m surprised to see Eric coming too, now that the garage is about to open, but it turns out he hasn’t come to say goodbye to his big sister so much as dump a problem at my feet.

“All good?”

Wes nods. Eric is the one wearing a scowl. “Mom might call you. She’s looking for help with something.”

Far too aware of the heavy weight of Wes’s stare on me, I struggle to maintain a neutral expression while silently cursing. “Mom doesn’t even know I’m in town,” I remind my brother. “I’m not supposed to be here.”

The guilty shuffle of Eric’s feet tells me what he’s about to say before the words come out of his mouth. “I accidentally told her. She heard his voice”—he gestures to Wes—“and wanted to know who was at the garage with me this early. It just came out.”

“Eric!”

“No one says you have to go.” He shoves his hands in his pockets and shrugs. “You can just ignore her drama, you know. Sam and I do it all the time.”

“Yeah, I’m well aware.” My eyes dart toward Wes before settling back on my brother. “Seriously, you and Sam can’t just figure it out?”

As if on cue, my phone lights up with an incoming call. Mom. Great. I decline the call and start to shove my phone in my pocket, but it just starts ringing again.

“I hate you right now,” I tell Eric, wishing I had never opened my big mouth and had just left Wes on the side of the road.

“Tell her you’re busy.”

“Like that will stop her from calling me for the next two days nonstop.” I take a deep breath and accept the third call, striving for a neutral voice. “Hi, Mom.”

“Oh, so you do know how to answer your phone,” she says by way of greeting. “The lengths I have to go to for my only daughter to speak to me.”

“It’s storm season.”

“Well, Eric says you’re in town. I’m sure you can spare your mother some of your precious time.” She sniffs, the crocodile tears always waiting in the wings for another performance.

“Mom, I really don’t—”

“If you’re already at your brother’s garage, you can drive ten minutes more to my house before you run off again.”

She hangs up without another word, leaving me fuming and embarrassed.

“I’m sure it won’t take long to help your mom out.” Wes slides his hands into his pockets and shrugs like it’s no big deal that he’s getting such an unflattering glimpse into my shit show family life. “Moms like me.”

Oh, my mom will definitely like Wes. That’s the problem.

I resist the urge to scream and stamp my feet like the child I was never allowed to be. “Did she say what she needed when you did your Benedict Arnold routine?” I choke out, still glaring daggers at my brother.

Eric shrugs. “Something about a lamp.”

“A lamp? You and Sam can’t handle a lamp?”

“I’m busy with the garage,” he says with a pointed look at Wes’s SUV. “Sam went to the mountains with his girlfriend’s family for the weekend.”