Chris gives his leg a squeeze. Damn. “Lee? Right there. We can walk.”
With a glance over his shoulder that shows him nothing of the road—just a quartet of girlish smiles and batting lashes—Lee cuts across two lanes to pull into the spot. His hand brushes Chris’s when he pulls up the parking brake, and he yanks on the brake a bit harder than necessary. “We’re here.”
The girls tumble out in a rush, then stand on the street corner like half-priced hookers running a two-for-one special. In the car’s bright interior light, Chris flashes Lee a quick grin, then climbs out after his friends. There is one brief moment where Lee considers putting the car back into gear and tearing away from the curb—just leaving Chris and the girls to fend for themselves and heading back home. An evening alone has to be better than watching Chris drool over his new boy toy, right?
Right?