He blinked at me, brows raised. Perhaps I sounded a little dramatic, but this whole freakish incident had made me, well, flustered. My ankle would be fine once I calmed down enough to heal it myself, but my precious pansies imported all the way from Greece might die because of this vampire’s reckless driving.
Glancing at where my plant lay, I pushed off the door and took a limping step toward the front of the car. “Never mind. I need to do it myself.”
“Wait, wait, wait.” He stopped me with a firm but gentle grip around my wrist, then plucked the shopping bag from my hand. “I’ll do it. You stay here.”
No hint of annoyance in his voice. This vampire wasn’t easily rattled, I’d give him that. Even with my less-than-kind attitude, he’d handled me gently enough. Surely, he’d do the same for my pansies.
Biting my lip, I watched him carefully remove the pieces of broken pottery and drop them in someone’s garbage can at the curb. Then he scooped his large hands under the soil and roots, the entire plant fitting nicely in his palms, and placed it in the bottom of the bag.
“Don’t lift it by—” I stopped mid-sentence since he hadn’t hauled it up like a sack of potatoes like I thought he would have. Instead, he lifted from the bottom with both hands and walked toward his trunk. He held my gaze, arching one dark brow as he passed me by.
Okay then. Clearing my throat, I opened the door and hopped in, belting myself and staring at the spaceship-like console with more fancy gauge readings and computerized stuff than I’d ever seen in a car. Of course, this was a seriously expensive car compared to the Jeep Cherokee and the Honda sedan driven by Jules or Evie, the two I trusted most to cart me around town if I needed something beyond the neighborhood.
Deep breath in and out, I reminded myself we were only a few short blocks from the house. Surely, he wouldn’t wreck again in that short space of time.
Shoving that fear away, I rummaged around in my bag and had pulled out my first-aid kit by the time he settled into the driver’s seat. He’d moved my bicycle safely onto the sidewalk before getting in.
“Where to?” he asked, his gaze fixed on my lap where I’d set out my tube of homemade antiseptic, antibacterial wipes, and Band-Aids.
“The end of this block and take the first right. I was actually almost home before you decided to hit me with your car.”
I dabbed at the scratches on my palms, wiping off the small amount of blood and removing any dirt.
“Believe it or not, I didn’t plan to hit a witch with my car today.” He shifted the gear stick into first and accelerated down the street. “It was on the agenda for tomorrow.”
Pausing, I looked over at him, his gaze fixed forward but his mouth ticked up with a wicked smirk.
“Well.” I folded the used wipes and put them in a Ziploc bag I had in my handbag to dispose of later. “I’m so happy I was able to get you ahead of schedule. Nothing better than ticking off your to-do list early.”
“Mmm. Unfortunately, I had a brunette witch on my list, not a blonde.” His gaze roved from the top of my head to down around my shoulders before he moved his attention back to the road.
“Do you have something against blondes?”
I prepared myself for a dumb blonde joke or something else equally offensive. What I wasn’t prepared for was his sultry reply.
“Not at all, darling. I’m a lover of all women.” His gaze caressed my face, shimmering with silver in the dark interior of his car. “I don’t discriminate.”
Darling? Lover? What was he talking about? Wait. Was he flirting with me? What nerve!
“Let me get this straight.” A shocked laugh belted up my throat. “You speed down an unfamiliar road, hit someone with your Porsche, send her flying into the air, injure her ankle, break her expensive, imported plant, and then decide to flirt with her?”
He muttered a curse in another language, but when he spoke, he was all silky sensuality like before.
“First of all, love. This is not a Porsche. This is a Diablo GT Lamborghini, one of the finest Italian cars money can buy.” His tilted smile might as well have added silly little girl. “Second, why are you so sure this is an unfamiliar road to me? I could live right around the corner.”
He could turn off that smooth-talking charm immediately because it wasn’t working on me. “Turn right.”
He downshifted and slowed on the turn.
“You said so yourself you’ve just arrived in town,” I bit back accusingly. “And anyone who lives in this neighborhood knows not to drive their Lamborghini Devil down this road like a bat out of hell.”
“It’s Diablo.”
“Diablo. Devil. All the same.” I snapped my first-aid kit shut and shoved it in my bag, smiling sweetly at him. “It suits you well, I’d say.” Then I pointed. “Stop here. This is my house.”
He maneuvered onto the curb, staring at our two-story bungalow-style house, his gaze wandering to the driveway with keen interest. Kind of creepy-keen interest, actually.
“Something wrong?” I asked as I opened the passenger door.
He snapped out of whatever daze he was in. “Not at all.” He flashed me a bright smile, then traced in vampire speed around the car before I was even fully standing.
“I’ve got it,” I protested, trying to hobble.
He swept me back up into his arms, ignoring me again. I’d have objected but, to be honest, my ankle was already swollen twice its size, and it would’ve hurt too much to try to make it on my own. I might be stubborn, but I wasn’t an idiot. Still, it was pissing me off to no end to have to depend on this guy who happened to cause my injury in the first place.
With a thorough push of magic, the familiar tingling sensation shooting through my veins, I opened the wrought iron gate at the front. He glanced down at me, all congenial and smiling, like he hit women with his car and carried them around for the fun of it every day of his life. I tried to ignore how he maneuvered me in his strong arms like I weighed nothing, his powerful strength on full display. But of course, all vampires were exceptionally strong. No need to ponder on his.
While I didn’t have the fuller curves like my sisters, I was the tallest. I loved my height. I owned it, relishing the fact that I could look most men eye-to-eye. Or even down at them. But not this one. His powerful physique and easy strength made me feel strangely vulnerable. It wasn’t a feeling I was used to, and I didn’t like it.
Before we made the steps to the front porch, the heavy front door swung open.
“Well, this is interesting,” said my sister Violet, a red Twizzler hanging out of her mouth, one hand on the door. “What did you do?”
“What do you mean what did I do?”
“I’m sorry to say,” the vampire interrupted smoothly while carrying me into the house, “that I hit your sister on her bike.”
Violet heaved out a breath. “I knew this would eventually happen.”
“Thanks for your sympathy, Violet.”
She shrugged, walking ahead of us toward the living room. “You look alright.”
Kicking up my leg with my swollen ankle, now about three times its normal size, I replied, “Yeah, I’m just dandy.” Then something occurred to me. I snapped my attention back to the vampire. “How do you know she’s my sister?” I asked, my attention now riveted to the underside of his chin where his short beard was cut close and trim, defining the square angle of his jaw.