I wasn’t surprised when he maneuvered to open the car door for me, and I couldn’t help but feel special as I arranged myself. Kisten shut the door and hustled around to the front. The leather seats were warm, and there was no cardboard tree hanging from the rearview mirror. I took a quick look at the discs in the console as he got in. They ranged from Korn to Jeff Beck, and he even had one of singing monks. He listened to singing monks?

Kisten settled himself. As soon as the car started, he flipped the heater on full. I sank into the seat, relishing the deep rumble of the engine. It was markedly stronger than my little car, vibrating through me like thunder. The leather, too, was of a higher quality, and the mahogany on the dash was real, not fake. I was a witch; I could tell.

I refused to compare Kisten’s car to Nick’s drafty, ugly truck, but it was hard not to. And I liked being treated special. Not that Nick didn’t make me feel special, but this was different. It was fun to get dressed up, even if we ended up eating at Mickey-d’s. Which was a very real possibility as Kisten had only sixty dollars to spend.

Glancing at him sitting beside me, I realized I didn’t care.

Eleven

“So,” I said slowly as I fought to keep myself from reaching for the handle of the door to keep it from swinging open when we went over a railroad track. “Where are we going?”

Kisten gave me a sideways smile, the lights from the car behind us illuminating him. “You’ll see.”

My eyebrows rose, and I took a breath to press for details when a soft chirping came from his pocket. My playful mood faltered into one of exasperation as he gave me an apologetic look and reached for his phone.

“I hope this isn’t going to happen all night,” I muttered, putting my elbow on the door handle and staring at the dark. “Just turn around and take me home if it is. Nick never took a call when we were on a date.”

“Nick wasn’t trying to run half the city, either.” Kisten flipped the silver top up. “Yes,” he said, his sharp annoyance pulling my elbow from the door and my attention back to him. The muted, tiny sound of pleading filtered out. In the background I could hear thumping music. “You’re kidding.” Kisten flicked his attention from the road to me and back to the road. His eyes held a mix of hassle and disbelief. “Well get out there and open the floor.”

“I tried that!” the tiny voice shouted. “They’re animals, Kist. Bloody savages!” The voice subsided into an unrecognizable high-pitched panic.

Kisten sighed as he looked at me. “Okay, okay. We’ll stop in. I’ll take care of it.”