Filthy Foreign Exchange(19)

“What?” I turn away, already bored with my unremarkable findings. “Some girl in calc gave him a ride home.”

“Then where is she?” my father grumbles, now at the window beside my mother. “And why is Kingston driving?”

Hmm. Guess I missed a few key details with my quick glance.

“Wow!” Sammy exclaims as he flings open the front door and rushes out. “Is this your car, Kingston? Can I have a ride? Can I drive?” My brother’s “outside” voice easily travels inside.

“Echo, go get your brother,” Dad growls. “And answer those questions of his—before I do it my way.”

“Yes? sir.”

I head out to the porch and call for him. “Sammy, come here, please.” I shake my head at Kingston, trying not to smile as I mouth, You buy that?

Maybe, he mouths back, smirking.

“Do you see his cool car, Echo? Look how bright red it is, like a racecar! Bet it’s really fast.” My baby brother dances in place, talking a mile a minute—loudly. “I want one just like it!”

“I see it.” I laugh, tousling his hair when he finally stands still at my side. “Listen to me a minute though, okay?” I squat down to his level and grip both his shoulders to ensure I have his full attention. “You’re way too young to drive—you know that, right?”

“Yeah,” he replies as he hangs his head.

“Okay. Then don’t talk crazy, asking to drive like that again. It scares Mom, and makes Dad mad.” He nods, but I continue. “And no rides. You’re too young to be in a car that fast.”

“But—”

“No buts. Promise me you’ll stay away from that car, Sammy. Just think if you scratched it. Mom and Dad would have to work twice as hard to pay to fix it.”

That gets his attention. Even at his age, he’d never cause our parents a hardship. “I promise, Echo.”

“Thank you.” I then dip my head to his ear and whisper, “Besides, he probably hasn’t even figured out what side of the road to drive on yet.”

Sammy snickers, covering his mouth and nodding again—this time like he’s really “with” me on the rules.

After a kiss to his sweet head, I stand. “Now go wash up, then hug Dad.”

I wait until after he scampers inside to pull the door closed and stroll toward Kingston, his smug grin squaring off against my mocking raised brows.

“A red Mustang in Kelly Springs? What, you weren’t getting enough attention before?”

“What can I say? As much as I enjoyed my ride from Deanna—”

“Pretty sure it’s still ‘Dinah.’ Also, gross,” I interrupt. I can’t believe my mind went to the dirty place, but it sure did.

“Yes, her. As I was saying—”

“Don’t say it again.” I scrunch my nose. “I mean it. We’re about to eat.”

He chuckles, shutting the car door and walking closer. “Having my own automobile was a necessity. I enjoy being the one behind the wheel.” He stops in front of me. “Steering things. Setting my own pace.”

His words, I suspect, hold a deeper meaning. But I have no time to ponder it before he adds, “And I prefer options—such as the one to say no to rides from strangers. When it pleases me, of course.”

“You should’ve said no to the salesperson who talked you into this cheesy car, which screams overcompensation.” I step around him to get a better look at his gaudy new toy.

“You don’t like it?” he asks, disbelief heavy in his tone.

I glance back over my shoulder to catch his wide, round eyes and slack jaw. My smile turns into a snort of sarcasm as I point across the driveway.

“That truck I drive every day? I do so because it’s mine. And it’s mine because I bought it. And—shocking, I know—but I bought it because I like trucks.”

“Ah, for the built-in bed in the back?” My face contorts, eyes cutting into him as he adds in a simper, “That’s the correct term, yes?”

“Yes, that’s the right word. And no, that’s not the reason, but you already knew that. You’re just being a jerk. Why?”

“Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that you’re insinuating my new auto isn’t the bee’s knees?”

“Eh.” I shrug. “I guess it only matters if you like it. Not my car.”

The door opens and my mother’s head pops out, a frown firmly in place on her lips.

“Echo, surely the young lady I raised isn’t out here insulting the guest we invited into our home? Tell me I’m worrying for nothing, and you were busy admiring Kingston’s beautiful new car.”

My dad walks up behind her and gives me a look of shared amusement. “Awfully flashy. You could’ve used Sebastian’s Jeep, Kingston. Should’ve said something.”

“Thank you, sir, but I didn’t want to impose any more than I already have. It was no trouble. My father approved the expenditure from my savings.”

“With your racing history…I shouldn’t have to remind you, but just in case you forgot, I won’t tolerate it while you’re living here. One strike, you’re out. Got it?”

“Of course, sir.”