Page 48

“That’s too bad,” she sing-songs.

I know she’s bating me, but I also know if I don’t ask, she’ll find a way to tell me anyway or dance around the subject until I give in and ask just to make her stop.

With an exasperated sigh, I ask what I know she wants to hear. “And why is that, Ginger?”

“Because I convinced Lottie to come with me.”

My hand stills while tightening the lid back onto the oil drain.

Thankfully, I’m under Ginger’s Mini Cooper right now, and she can’t see—and hopefully can’t smell—my interest. Trying to play it cool, I finish tightening the cap and slide out on the wheeled creeper from under the jacked-up car.

“And why would that matter to me?” I ask as casually as possible while wiping the oil and grease from my hands.

“Because you like her.” She pauses for dramatic effect before continuing. “And she likes you.”

My hands almost freeze again mid-motion, but I catch it quickly and keep moving.

“Oh?”

“Mmhmm.”

I catch sight of her from the corner of my eye. She still has her phone pulled up in front of her face, but her eyes are watching me over the top of the screen.

“You should really come by. I think it’ll be fun. Since Lottie doesn’t want to sing, we’ll probably have a few drinks, hang with the girls, and maybe play a game of pool.” She makes her tone overly nonchalant, but I know every word is very deliberate.

Shifter males have a weakness when females play billiards. All the bending over and reaching around and stick fondling. It’s a sweet kind of torture we all love to enjoy.

My cock twitches in my pants, liking the idea of watching Lottie bend over and slide a cue stick through her fingers. It stiffens slightly, and I shake the image from my mind, not needing Ginger to bear witness to the desire I’m sure she’s already scented.

“Great! I guess we’ll see you there then. We should be there between eight and nine. We’re going to grab a late dinner at Dottie’s first. Can’t drink on an empty stomach.” She rubs her stomach dramatically before returning her attention back to her phone.

I don’t respond. She knows I’ll be there, so I return to her car, lowering it off the jack and filling it with quarts of oil. When the oil is filled, I toss the empty containers in the recycle bin, grabbing a rag from the workbench next to Ginger.

Unintentionally, I look over her shoulder at her phone as she’s slowly spinning on the stool and do a double-take at the images I see on the screen. It looks like Lottie but with long hair, a very short and sparkly outfit, a microphone in hand, and a plastic smile on her face.

“Why is there a photo of Lottie on your phone?” I demand a bit too loudly.

“What?” Ginger jumps in surprise and spins to face me, holding the screen to her chest, trying to hide it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about that wasn’t Lottie.”

“Yes, it was.”

“No, it wasn’t.”

“I know what I saw, Ginger.”

“You must be getting old then because it wasn’t Lottie,” she argues adamantly, standing and slipping the phone into her back pocket.

“Ginger,” I snarl.

“Hunter,” she mimics snidely.

“Show me the phone, Ginger.” I don’t hesitate to infuse my tone with alpha command because I know she will argue and fight with me tooth and nail and never give in.

Ginger scowls at me and releases an aggravated tight breath through her nostrils. Slowly reaching into her back pocket she pulls out her phone and hands it to me. I swipe it open; it’s locked.

“Unlock it.”

She grumbles and does as I command. When she hands it back to me, the screen is unlocked and is open on an article titled “Pop star Alexandria enters private retreat after World Tour.”What the fuck?Who is Alexandria, and why does she look just like Lottie?