Fine.

With as much attitude as I could manage, I shoved my bike toward the curb, stalked over to the car, and slid into the passenger seat, slamming the door behind me.

Blake didn’t look smug. Didn’t say I told you so.

He just reached for the volume knob, turning the music down to a low hum, and started driving.

And I hated that, too.

Because it almost felt comfortable.

* * *

Blake drove like he did everything else—calm and controlled. One hand on the wheel, the other resting on the gearshift, his fingers tapping idly against the leather.

I hated that I noticed.

But I hated even more that I remembered exactly how those hands felt when they weren’t wrapped around a steering wheel.

Shifting in my seat, I crossed one leg over the other and kept my gaze locked on the blurred cityscape outside the window.

The car smelled like him. Of course, it did.

The scent wrapped around me, pulling me straight into the past, into memories I’d spent the last five months burying.

“I can hear you thinking,” he said.

“Oh, so now you’re a mind reader?”

His eyes stayed on the road. “Please. If I could actually read your mind, I would’ve lost it a long time ago.”

I shot him a look. “You’ve already lost it.”

“Yeah?” He glanced at me, amusement flickering in his eyes. “And whose fault is that?”

“Your own. For being impossible.”

Blake hummed low in his throat, like he was considering it. “Or maybe you just bring it out of me.”

I ignored him, my fingers curled around the hem of my skirt, willing my body to relax.

It wasn’t working.

“So,” he drawled, his voice deceptively casual, “tell me about this date you’re about to go on. What’s Reese taking you to do?”

I exhaled sharply. “You wouldn’t care even if I did,” I muttered, my words laced with a bitterness I couldn’t hide.

“Humor me.”

I bit back a groan, my gaze fixed firmly on the view outside the window. Anything to avoid looking at him, to keep from being dragged into whatever game he was playing. “It’s dinner,” I said, the words flat and dismissive, hoping he’d just let it go.

“That’s it?” He made a low noise in his throat. “How original.”

“Not all of us require elaborate plans to have a good time.”

“You’re easy to please, huh?”

I turned just enough to glare at him. “Oh, I’m sorry, should I be demanding yacht rides and diamond bracelets?”

Blake shrugged. “Wouldn’t hurt.”

“God, you’re unbearable.”

“Funny,” he mused, glancing at me from the corner of his eye, “you used to think I was someone worth liking.”