Page 21 of Tangled Up In You
Ren bent to look in the back window. “I have to sit in the backseat?”
“Rule eight.” He ignored her and placed a gentle hand on the top of the car. “Treat Max with respect. Rule nine: No talking.”
“At all?”
“Remember rule six?”
Deflated, she nodded. “No being annoying.”
“What are you even going to Nashville for?” he asked. “If it’s so important that you’re willing to extort me, why not just take a bus or, better yet, fly?”
She lifted her chin, steeling herself against the wave of nausea that rolled through her. “It’s none of your business.”
“Well, fine, but here’s rule ten: I hope you have a way home, because I’m not sure what day I’m leaving to head back, and I’m not working around your schedule.”
Her brain hiccupped. She hadn’t even figured out how she was getting to Atlanta from Nashville, let alone that she might have to find her way back to Spokane afterward.
Perhaps sensing something in her reaction, Fitz bent to catch her eye. “You do have a plan for how you’re getting home, right?”
She nodded vaguely.
He leaned closer. “Sweden?”
“Yes,” she said with more conviction. It was too late to turn back now. “I do—or, at least, I will by the time I need to come back. But either way, it’s not your problem.”
Fitz turned, opening the trunk to put their bags inside. “We got ourselves a fly-by-the-seat-of-her-pants girl here, Max.” He paused before closing the trunk. “Do you need anything out of here before we go? We won’t stop until Missoula.”
With her mouth closed tight, she quickly shook her head.
“Good.” He closed the trunk with a nod of finality.
“ButIwantedtosay,” she whispered in a rush, shrinking under his glare. “I just wanted to tell you thank you. I know you’re doing this under duress, but it’s very important to me.” Digging into her coat pocket, she pulled an envelope free and thrust it toward him. “I also made you a card. Okay, now I’ll try to stick to rule six.”
He took the envelope, unceremoniously ripping it open. Inside was a hand-drawn card with the words THANK YOU “JUST FITZ” in bright block letters surrounded by a vibrant field of tiny, intricate fireworks. Yellow and orange, green and blue, red and purple. The precision, up close, was impressive, she knew. But when viewed from a little bit of a distance, it would look like stained glass. She’d made it last night—had spent nearly two hours on it, in fact—and she was proud of how it turned out.
For a beat, Fitz’s grumpy forehead smoothed as he stared down. “You made this?”
“Yeah.”
He exhaled a defeated breath and squeezed his eyes closed for a beat before shoving the card into his pocket and pointing to the passenger door. “Get in.”
Excitement rolled up inside her, bubbling free with a tiny clap-and-jump combo.
“Knock it off,” he said, rounding the car.
“I’m just so exci—”
“Shh.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
FITZ
Even the click of her buckle was too exuberant.
“Calm down,” he muttered.
“I’m just getting in the car!”