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Out on the Town

Chapter 13

Out on the Town

“I’m not actually a bad driver.” I jumped, startled out of my funk, as Ian spoke for the first time since we’d gotten in the car — I glanced at the clock on the dashboard. Ten minutes ago.

“What?”

Ian pressed his lips together, hit the gas so hard I jolted back in my seat, and shifted gears with a force that would have cracked the shifter in a car that wasn’t as sturdily built as this one. Figured that Ian would have some muscle-car nightmare. He’d probably restored it himself, since he had more time than money.

“You’re white-knuckling your seatbelt,” he said. “You don’t need to. I drive just fine. Matt drives like someone’s grandma. I mean, he drives a hybrid.” There was enough contempt dripping from that last word to qualify him for a bit part in a BBC costume drama.

I started to laugh, and then I pictured Ian in a waistcoat and my brain shorted out for a minute.

“Hello? Nate? Anybody home?” he asked irritably. I came back to reality again, a little dist
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