Fangs, Fate & Other Bad Decisions novel Chapter 36

Chapter 36

Harley

He stares at me before asking in a completely deadpan voice, “You chose this?”

“I did,” I say saucily, popping the d. “And you agreed. Which means you’re now contractually obligated to enjoy it right along with me.

He exhales a soft, amused breath before muttering, “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“Only if you’re lucky,” I say as I smirk.

Mike chuckles through the open window where he’s still sitting in the front seat,

at, but when Thane gives him a look as if he’s about to reprimand him, elbow him in the ribs before he can say anything that’ll ruin the moment.

Before I can tell Thane to chill out, Mike gets out of the car and opens the trunk. When I walk over to investigate what he’s up to, I realize he’s busy laying everything out–plush blankets, two oversized pillows, a picnic basket, a mini cooler, and a tiny rechargeable lantern tucked into the

corner.

“What the hell? Did you pack us a wine country getaway?” I ask, flabbergasted, as I look between Thane and Mike.

Thane shrugs like it’s no big deal, saying plainly, “You didn’t say what kind of drive–in experience you wanted, so I prepared for all possible contingencies.”

I blink at the spread, then at him, asking, “Do you carry throw pillows in your car…just in case?”

His lips twitch before he answers, “Wouldn’t you like to know?

Climbing into the back of the SUV feels ridiculous and weirdly romantic. We settle against the pillows propped against the backseats, with the trunk door popped open to the sky. After only a few minutes, the nearby speakers crackle to life as the opening credits start rolling.

Thane passes me a soda from the cooler, and I catch the flicker of satisfaction on his face when our fingers hrush momentarily. The sudden but fleeting touch has my fingertips tingling with an awareness that only he brings.

The night air suddenly feels cool against my skin, so I tug one of the blankets over my legs, which are stretched out in front of me with my ankles crossed.

I should be relaxed, and this situation should be casual and easy. That’s why I suggested it. But there’s a question sitting heavy on my tongue.

And I don’t know if I’m ready for the answer.

Thane

The screen flickers to life, casting her face in shifting colors of blue, gold, and a sudden pop of red from an opening explosion on screen. But she doesn’t react, almost as if she expected it. Her eyes are on the movie, but I can feel her attention still lingering on me. I know how that feels because I’m the same when it comes to her.

But this is different. It’s as if she wants to understand something but is afraid to ask questions and solve the conundrum plaguing her.

The thought unsettles me.

The film’s opening scene is ridiculous, with some hapless college kid buying chips from a vending machine that hums ominously. Harley lets out a small laugh, and it’s like the gravel under the cars tires shifts beneath us.

I can’t stop looking at her.

She has pulled the blanket up to her chest now, tucked her legs under her, and her hair is a soft mess from the breeze coming through the open trunk. She’s utterly relaxed, yet something in her posture is braced, and waiting for the perfect moment.

She finally turns her head to me, that teasing spark in her eyes dimmed to something more subdued.

“What do you actually do?” she asks, her voice softer with none of her usual sarcasm, “When to fancy dinners?”

She isn’t asking what I do for a living she already knows that after we talked about it at the restaurant last night. This is about me. She wants to know who the man beneath the empire is, and the man beneath the grumpiness – the man I rarely let anyone see.

I work,” I start slowly, my gaze returning to the screen even though I haven’t absorbed a single word or action that’s played out, “Too much, and I avoid people, too well.”

Her brow lifts, but she doesn’t interrupt me as I continue, “I have…strict routines, business deals, rigorous travelling, reports to compose and sign off on, and numbers that need to be crunched. I keep things moving so I don’t have to stand still.” I glance at her before adding. “Standing still makes things…complicated, and I’m not the greatest fan of complicated.”

And before I can lose my nerve. I continue, “Sometimes I go to the opera, museums, or other quiet places. And mostly, I go at night.”

She tilts her head at that, before saying matter–of–factly, “You mean you go to places where no one talks to you.”

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