Ten Below ZeroTen Below Zero(31)

“For someone who doesn’t care about anything, you sure hate a lot of things.”

“I never said I hated anything.”

“Okay, supreme dislike.”

“I think you see what you want to believe, Everett.”

“Why do you think that?”

I unbuckled my seat belt. “I don’t hate anything. I don’t love anything. I do not care.”

Everett pulled off the road into a gas station. “Buckle up, Parker.”

I bristled. “No.”

His eyes cut to me. “We are in Vegas. Do you know how many people drive drunk in this city? Don’t be stupid. Wear your seatbelt.”

“No,” I said again, lifting my chin up.

“Fine,” he said before opening his door. I watched as he walked to my side of the car. My heart jumped and I reached frantically for the lock. I was too late.

He swung open the door. “Buckle up, Parker,” he said again.

We were staring at each other, fire in our eyes, anger in his voice and defiance in mine. “No.”

“You’re a shitty actress.”

“I’m not acting,” I protested.

Everett climbed up the step into the Jeep, so he was leaning right into me, his hands braced on the car and on my seat.

“You may not care about yourself, but you’re not an idiot. You don’t gamble with your life. That’s the smartest thing about you, to be honest.”

If his words could have color, they’d be red. He was mad. The maddest I’d ever seen him. “You don’t know me.” My words sounded weak in comparison. I was a mouse, like Mira said.

“You ran from me the night we met. Don’t you remember? You run away from situations you feel threatened in. You’re cautious. But you’re not even sure why, because you don’t care about yourself. Nothing about you makes sense. But I still know you.”

“You know nothing.” My jaw was clenched. I was mad. Mad at him, mad at myself for letting him get to me. Mad because he called to me on a deeper level, a level I didn’t understand.

“Shut up, Parker. Just shut. Up. Stop talking. You sound like a petulant child.” He leaned further in, so close I felt the brush of his hair on my face. “Grow up. Unbuckling your seat belt was a stupid idea. Against the rules.”

“Whose rules?” I asked, anger making my cheeks warm and my voice loud.

Everett shook his head, exasperated. “Well let’s see, besides the law,” he said, his voice stating the obvious. “My rules. Wear your damn seatbelt.”

“If you get to make rules, I want to make some of my own too.”

Everett leaned back, leaving room for me to breathe. He laughed without humor. “Yeah, sure Parker. What are your rules?” He didn’t sound like he cared.

“Stop invading my space, first of all.”

Everett stepped of the step, and was now standing on the ground outside the car, arm braced on the door. “Sorry, can’t promise that.” But he wasn’t really sorry.

I crossed my arms across my chest, annoyed. I let my eyes drift over the Las Vegas strip ahead of us and a thought occurred to me. “Okay, one rule. No drinking of any alcohol.”

I could tell Everett wasn’t expecting that. His eyes grew wide. “You can’t tell me not to drink, Parker.” His voice had lowered.

“You can’t force me to use a seatbelt.”

“Yes I can.”

“No you can’t!”

Everett leaned back in the car. “You could die, Parker.” His voice was just above a whisper.

“Alcohol can be deadly too.”

He shook his head. “Do I need to say it again?” he asked. “I am dying, Parker. Every second could be my last.”

“Yeah, so let’s speed it up by drinking until you’re obliterated. You want to say I’m stupid? Well you’re stupid too!” I put a hand on his chest and pushed. I couldn’t breathe. Not with him in my space, his scent invading my nostrils.

Everett stood outside the car and watched me for a minute, seemingly in thought. “Okay, rules. Let’s make some. Each rule I make, you get one too.”

I sat back in the seat, relaxing. “What if one of us breaks the rules?”

“We’ll come up with a punishment.” His eyes glittered, and the side of his mouth lifted. It sent a jolt of desire through my body. I repressed the shudder I felt and nodded, swallowing.

“Okay.”

“Let’s get to the hotel and make the rules. Then we’ll go out.”



The hotel turned out to be a room at one of the nicer hotels right on the strip. It was a suite, thankfully, with two separate bedrooms. I needed to be alone, to have the space to think away from him, away from everything he brought out in me.

Everett had refused my offer to help pay and it bothered me deeply. Something to add to the rules, I supposed.

I was sitting on the deck just off the living area of the suite, eating limes that I’d brought along in the cooler. The sliding glass door opened and Everett stepped out, wearing his usual all black. In his hands were his notebook and a pen. He took the seat across from me before flipping open the notebook. He flipped past the first several pages until he reached a blank page. I tried to keep my eyes disinterested, but Everett was right; I was a terrible actress. Everett looked up at me from beneath dark brows, catching me eyeing the pages filled with his scribble. He closed the notebook and put his hand on the cover, pulling it towards him.