“I thought you knew nothing.”

“Well I know you can either sit out here for an hour, or I can drive you home.”

“Why would I get into a car with you?”

“Come on, Cass, are you really asking me that question? Why does anybody get into a car with me?” He extends his arm, all lean and muscular, but I just ignore it. He really is such a pig.

“You’re so wrong, you know, with how you approach everything. You can’t talk to people this way. You’ve got a one-track mind.”

“This one-track mind is about to give you a free lift home.”

“No, this one-track mind is about to piss off.”

“Are you sure?” he says. “Don’t worry, I may be a dog, but I won’t bite.”

I snap the book I was reading shut, and get up, sighing. I don’t want to wait for an hour.

“Don’t try anything.”

He laughs, and puts his hands up. “You’ve got a pretty inflated opinion of yourself, don’t you?”

“Just shut up, okay?” I say, irritated. “Just, don’t talk to me. Where’s your car?”

“So you do want a ride?”

I narrow my eyes at him. “Where’s your car, Chance?”

“Alright, alright,” he says, falling into step with me. My shoulder rubs against his, but I pull away. Still, it leaves my heart beating quicker.

“Over here,” he says, and we walk to the street. There I see what looks like a sports car. “Mazda RX-8,” he informs me.

“I don’t care about your car.”

“Well, to be fair, muscle was always my thing, but this was a gift. I can’t really complain.”

“Someone gifted you a Mazda?” I cry, flabbergasted. I realize it’s not exactly uncommon around this area, but still, it looks expensive, and who would like Chance enough to give him a car?

Who would trust him enough to give him a sports car?

He unlocks the car and walks around to the driver’s side. “Well, get in!” he says. “You don’t think I’m going to open the door for you, do you?”

“Piss off, Chance. Just don’t talk, okay?” I snarl, climbing into the car.

Excerpt:

Unleashed

An MMA Stepbrother Romance

It’s so hot in the car that I have to take off my gown, and of course, leave it to me to wait until I’m actually in the car, and we’re actually moving, before I try to. I struggle through it, pulling it off my arms, contorting as much as possible against the seat belt.

That’s when I notice Chance isn’t wearing his seat belt.

“What are you, a complete idiot? Will you put your seat belt on?”

“It’s not far,” he says casually.

“Put it on,” I say, hardening my voice. “You know how many people die because they are as stupid as you?”

“Okay, okay, no need to get your panties all twisted up,” he says, pulling the seat belt over his body. “I was about to.”

I sigh, and pinch the bridge of my nose. “I’m not getting anything twisted up. You’re just an idiot. And don’t say panties. It’s juvenile.”

“Ouch. What is it with you and the name calling, Cass?”

“Don’t call me Cass. My name is Cassie.”

“You’re all so prickly.” He leans over to me and grins. “Prickly pear… are you frustrated?”

“God, just let me out of the car, okay?” I’m huffing now, and I don’t even know why I agreed to get in in the first place.

“Oh, just sit still, will you? We’re nearly there.”

“Why are you taking this road?” I ask. He’s going by the beach. It’s not the quickest way.

“Because I want to.”

“But it’s a slower route.”

“Wow, Cass, you should really chill out. You know, high stress is bad for your blood pressure.”

“Like you would know anything about that.”

I cross my arms and look out of the window. I don’t even want to look at him, his big and strong hands holding carelessly onto the wheel, the way his t-shirt seems to have molded itself to the muscular contours of his body.

Oh God, what is wrong with me? Why do I want this insufferable dickhead?

I force myself to focus on the scenery outside. It’s actually pretty nice. The sea is sparkling like it’s been sprinkled with crystals, and surprisingly the beach is nearly completely empty. It stretches on for nearly two miles, and I can barely see anybody on it. There’s a light breeze, and I can see the lines of the catamarans on the beach flapping against their metal masts. I whirr down the window, and sure enough, I can hear the clinking sounds.

But then I hear another clink, much closer, and very familiar. I look over to Chance, and my mouth drops. “You’re going to smoke in here?”

He looks at me, cigarette dangling from between his lips, a puzzled expression on his face. “Yes, Cass. I am.”

“Can you not?”

He shrugs, and sparks his silver zippo lighter anyway.

“You are such an inconsiderate ass. Second-hand smoke causes cancer, you know.”

“My car, my rules.”

“Then just let me out!” I cry, and to my surprise, he yanks the car over and to a stop.

“If you like,” he says, shrugging. “No skin off my back.”

“Argh!” I groan, undoing the seatbelt and getting out. I slam the car door – I know that he’ll hate that – and start walking along the beach. It’s only twenty minutes to my house, and the walk won’t kill me.

But sitting in that car with Chance might make me kill him.

I’m appalled when I hear a car door close and the car lock chirrup, and turn around to see that he’s gotten out, and he’s walking over to me with his infuriatingly cocky swagger, and that same stupid smirk on his face.

“Oh my God, you just don’t know when to stop, do you?” I say, putting my hands up. I’m so annoyed. I’m exasperated. What the hell is his game, anyway? Why is he bugging me so much today?

“Why didn’t your father attend the ceremony?” he asks, squinting against the sun. His eyes become slits, and it makes him more attractive.

“What business is it of yours?”

“My mother went on some company get away.” He shrugs. “I don’t really give a fuck. But you seem to give a fuck, so why not talk about it? Isn’t that what therapists say we should do? Talk about what we give a fuck about?”

I balk. “Are you seeing a therapist?”

“Have to. Court orders.”

“For what?”

“Punching some suit in the jaw. He had to have it wired. He was a douche.”