I broke out in laughter at the ridiculousness but also couldn’t help the warm feeling that came over me with that sweet gesture. Maybe he wasn’t really a bastard at all.

We were quiet for a while as he lay his head back and shut his eyes. Somewhere along I-76 after the sun set into a bright orange glow that illuminated the horizon in the distance, he turned to me.

His voice was groggy. “I’m Chance.”

After several seconds of silence, I said, “Aubrey.”

“Aubrey,” he repeated in a breathy whisper, seeming to contemplate my name before closing his eyes again and turning his head away.

Chance.

Chapter Two

“You just gonna keep letting that go to voicemail?” He narrowed his eyes on my cellphone buzzing on top of the center console. The damn thing was going off every half hour or so, but now the break between calls had shortened to ten minutes.

“Yep.” It stopped dancing around, and I offered no further explanation. I’d thought maybe he’d let it go.

Of course he didn’t. Five minutes later it buzzed again, and Chance grabbed it before I realized what he was doing.

“Harry’s calling.” He dangled my phone between his thumb and pointer, swinging it back and forth until I snatched it out of his hand.

“It’s Harrison. And it’s none of your business.”

“It’s a long ride, Princess. You know we’re gonna talk about it eventually.”

“Trust me, we won’t.”

“We’ll see.”

Only a few more minutes passed, and my phone was at it yet again. Before I could stop him, he had it in his hand once more. Only this time, he swiped and held it up to his mouth.

“Ello.”

My eyes bulged from my head. I almost swerved off the road, yet I sat there like a mute.

“Harry. How’s it going, Mate?”

The hint of Australian accent that lingered in the background was suddenly front and center. Harrison’s voice rose through the cell, although I couldn’t make out the words. I glanced over at Chance’s cocky face. He shrugged at me, smiled, and leaned back into his seat, quite enjoying himself. At that moment, I decided our little road trip was over. As soon as we got to the next exit, his ass was getting kicked to the curb. That perfectly round mass of muscle could walk through bumfuck Nebraska for all I cared.

“Yeah, sure. She’s here. But we’re kinda busy right now.”

I heard the next question loud and clear. Chance pulled the receiver away from his ear as Harrison roared, “Who the fuck is this?”

“Name’s Chance. Chance Bateman. Some of my friends call me Cocky,” he said with the perfect melody of intonation that I visualized causing the vein in Harrison’s throat to throb a deep shade of purple.

“Put. Aubrey. On. The. Fucking. Phone.” Each word was a short staccato burst of anger. Suddenly, I was no longer mad at Chance for answering the phone. I was livid that Harrison had the audacity to be angry at what I was doing.

“No can do, Harry. She’s…indisposed at the moment.”

Another growl of expletives came through the phone.

“Listen, Harry. I’m going to tell you this man to man, because you sound like a good chap. Aubrey has been avoiding your calls to be polite. The truth is, she just doesn’t want to talk to you.”

My anger was rapidly bouncing between the two men. Yet… AH-BREE. I wanted to strangle Chance, although at the same time, I really wanted him to say my name again. What in the hell was wrong with me? I missed Harrison’s response, busy replaying the sound of my name spoken with an Australian accent. The way it rolled off that cocky bastard’s tongue made my belly do a little flutter. I might have had a momentary lapse in time as I imagined it being whispered in my ear with a throaty strain. AH-BREE.

I blinked myself back to reality as Chance released an exaggerated sigh into the phone. “Okay then, Harry. But you’re going to need to stop now. We’re taking a nice long trip, and your constant buzzing is getting our girl’s knickers in a twist. So be a good mate and knock off the interruptions for a while. Yeah?”

Our girl. That vein had to be ready to explode in Harrison’s neck.

Chance didn’t wait for a response before disconnecting the call.

For a full five minutes, neither of us said a word. He must have been expecting the tirade to come.

“You’re not going to lay into me about my chat with Harry?”

My knuckles turned white on the steering wheel. “I’m processing.”