Kindred Spirit: Book Five of the Bound Spirit Series

Chapter 10

Callie

With Gina in a coma, my food and nutrition class has been a lot less eventful, her gaggle of Barbie clones far more subdued without their queen bee to impress, but I still hate the class. All my magic can’t save me from being a horrible cook. Logistically, I understand everything, but once I attempt to put it into practice, it all goes to hell. The number of things I’ve managed to both over and under cook at the same time is staggering, and everything I bake is hard enough to chip a tooth. I guess I should be grateful that I haven’t managed to burn the school down in one of my failed attempts, though a small, second extinguisher has been placed near my station just in case.

I sigh and keep scrubbing my pan in the sink when the bell rings and the rest of the class escapes for the day. Today, we were learning how to sauté vegetables, and shocker of all shockers, I burned mine beyond recognition. Fortunately, Ms. Brooks doesn’t grade based on skill and offers a lot of extra credit for helping around the classroom. I’m literally getting an A for effort.

“Can I help you?” Ms. Brooks asks from her desk at the front of the classroom, and I look over my shoulder to find Donovan leaning against the doorframe.

He motions toward me with his chin. “I’m waiting for her.”

“Just a sec,” I call and glumly get back to it. If I were at home, I’d just Fantasia the scrub brush to do it for me, but alas, human school, so I have to keep the supernatural world a secret. Blah, blah, blah.

The squeak of rubber boots against linoleum announces his approach, and he releases a low whistle when he looks over my shoulder. “You burnt the hell out of that.”

“Thank you, Captain Obvious,” I grumble, scrubbing harder, but the pan doesn’t seem to be getting any cleaner.

Donovan drops his backpack on the ground, plucks the pan and scrub brush from my hands, and uses his hip to nudge me out of the way. Unlike my pathetic attempts, he puts a little nephilim strength into it, and it’s not long until the pan is a shiny silver again.

Grabbing a nearby hand towel, he begins to dry the offending cooking implement. “Next time, try soaking it first, or better yet, don’t burn it in the first place.”

“It’s not on purpose,” I complain, picking up the rest of the items I left to dry while fighting the battle against burnt food. “Last time, I messed with it too much and my food got all mushy and took forever to cook. This time, I decided to let it sit longer, and apparently, it was too long, and the moisture evaporated out of the pan and burned.”

He follows me to the cabinet that holds all the cooking supplies. “I don’t get it. Cooking isn’t that hard. I started when I was six on a hot plate in a run-down RV while my dad was driving down the road.”

“Not everyone can be a prodigy like you,” I mutter as I put everything away.

“This is a basic life skill, angel,” he corrects, going back to the sink to retrieve his backpack. “I’m not saying you need to learn how to make a gourmet meal, but you should at least be able to scramble some eggs without burning them.”

“Why do you think I took this class?” I whisper harshly, looking over at Ms. Brooks who seems to be engrossed in some type of record keeping.

Donovan releases a weary sigh. “I had other plans for our date tonight, but it’s a crime to let this go on. I’ll teach you how to cook.”

“Mei tried to teach me to bake and that didn’t really go too well,” I warn, walking to my station at the back of the class to pick up my backpack and jacket.

Following me toward the door, he promises, “This will be different.”

“I don’t know,” I hedge, not super excited to have him witness just how bad I am.

“Callie, as much as you’re a joy to have in class, you could really benefit from some one-on-one tutoring,” Ms. Brooks interjects without looking away from her computer. “I highly recommend accepting the offer presented to you by this nice young man.”

Donovan makes an expression somewhere between offended and horrified over being referred to as “nice,” making me a giggling mess. After a few halting breaths, I wheeze out, “Okay,” before we leave the classroom and head for my locker.

“This is not me being nice,” Donovan clarifies as we walk down the mostly empty hallway. It’s Friday, which means everyone has bailed from school like the building is on fire. “Your cooking is literally a health hazard.”

I give him a large grin. “And it’s so nice of you to help.”

He shudders, which has me giggling all over again.

My levity lasts until we hit my locker that’s decorated in fun phrases like “slut” and “homewrecker.” Crouching down, I run my finger over the offending phrases and find it doesn’t smudge. Permanent marker, yay!

“Motherfuckers,” Donovan growls, his eyes blazing. “We need to find out who did this. It’s been too long since I bashed some heads in. Clearly, this school needs a reminder of who they are fucking with.”

“At least they stopped calling me a suicidal crazy person,” I comment with a sigh. After peering around the hallway to make sure we’re alone, I envision a spotless locker and wave my hand over the graffiti. Every locker in the hallway appears brand new. Close enough.

Donovan leans against the lockers with his arms crossed over his chest and one booted foot pressed to the bottom locker next to mine. “Kaleb is going to be pissed that you got rid of the evidence.”

After dropping my backpack to the ground, I shrug and start putting my combination in. “This isn’t Gina and her goons. It’s just some people who are pissed about Bree and Felix—another golden couple I ruined.”

He frowns. “Another?”

I trade my books out of my backpack for ones I’ll need over the weekend. “Yeah, I’m still getting blamed for Rachel and Kaleb, despite the fact they were broken up before I arrived.”

“Fucking idiot should have told her the truth from the beginning instead of sugarcoating why he dumped her,” he grumbles, staring across the hall at the locker that once held a giant dent from Kaleb’s fist.

Glancing up at him, I offer him an amused smile. “That he’s part angel and hates lying? I’m pretty sure at least some of that is against the rules.”

“No, that she’s boring as fuck, and he can do better,” he states with surprising sincerity.

My smile grows as I zip up my backpack. “Careful, that almost sounded like a compliment.”

“Kaleb is the dumbest smart person I know, and so criminally repressed that it’s painful to watch, but with you, he’s…” His leather jacket creaks as he shrugs. “I don’t fucking know… more alive, I guess.” He runs a hand through his raven black hair that has grown shaggy over the past couple months. “As long as I’ve known him, he’s never thrown a punch outside of training. Then you came along, and he decked two different people for disrespecting you.”

Closing my locker door, I press my forehead against the cool metal of the one above it and groan. “You do realize that’s a bad thing, right? I don’t want anyone hitting people to defend my honor.” My stomach twists as I recall last Saturday night, which ended with Connor on the ground and Kaleb furious above him. “Especially your best friends.”

Donovan stands up so he can crouch down next to me. “Angel, what Connor did was beyond fucked up. If Kaleb hadn’t knocked his ass to the ground, I probably would have done worse when I found out the truth. Knowing what I do about mate bonds, I thought it was consensual.”

“He didn’t force me to leave a part of myself within him. I wanted to do that,” I explain, my voice tight. “I just didn’t understand doing that plus the bite would make us mates. I didn’t even know mates were a real thing in a magical, supernatural sense.”

He flexes his hands on his knees, and under his breath, mutters, “I’m going to fucking end him the next time we spar.”

My head snaps up, and I beg, “Please don’t. I know how bad it sounds, and trust me, I was furious when I found out, but we really did work it out. I made the choice to keep the bond.”

“Sorry, that’s not how this works.” He gives me a measured look and sighs. “Look, I’m glad you figured your shit out, but we’re still going to be mad about it for a while.”

“That’s what Felix said,” I state as a guilt-ridden lump sits heavy in my stomach, “but I hate that you guys are fighting because of me. I don’t want to get in the way of your friendship.”

“You aren’t,” Donovan insists, frustration lacing his words. “We’d be pissed if Con did this to anyone, but it’s worse that he did it to you.”

“Because of what I am?” I ask, recalling how Kaleb pointed out that we really don’t know how being mate bound will affect me in the future.

He gets an exasperated expression and looks like he wants to shake sense into me. “No, not because of what you are, but because of what’s been done to you. The council bound your magic when you were a child, and then sent you to live in the human world with a fucking unhinged asshole who literally locked you away to torture you.” Barely contained anger vibrates through his body. “Others have been taking from you for their own fucked up gains your whole life. We were supposed to be different.”

“Oh,” I reply quietly, feeling raw from the way he so succinctly summed up the root of why it hurt so much that Connor did what he did.

Tucking a crooked finger underneath my chin, he lifts it until I’m looking directly into his eyes. “None of this is your fault.”

My mouth turns down at the corners, and my bottom lip wobbles. “It feels like it is. If I hadn’t said anything—”

“Secrets don’t stay secret forever,” Donovan interrupts, pressing his thumb into my chin to give me a little shake. “Eventually, we would have found out and been even more pissed. Keeping secrets in our group doesn’t go well for us.”

“You’re right,” I relent, thinking of how many times our lies of omission have had nearly deadly consequences.

His lips twist into a cocky grin. “I know. I’m always right.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” I counter with a huff of a laugh.

Donovan releases me, stands up, and holds out his hand. “Let’s get the fuck out of here. I’m tired of this place.”

I take his hand and let him pull me up, my feet tingling from crouching for so long. While continuing to hold onto his hand, I reach down to grab my backpack and hoist it over my shoulder. “Me too, honestly. I used to love school, but with everything going on, it’s hard to focus these days. Thank the goddess that it’s only one more month until summer break.”

“Yeah,” he replies, his expression tight.

Squeezing his hand, I frown up at him. “You seem less than enthusiastic for three whole months of sunshine and no homework.”

“We have the nephilim retreat this summer,” he explains, leading me down the hallway toward the front of the school.

“What’s that and why is it bad?” I ask, curious about anything that relates to the supernatural world.

“Roughly every ten years, all the nephilim in a particular region—ours is the west coast—gather in the middle of fucking nowhere to bullshit and celebrate being angels’ bastard descendants,” he grumbles, walking with long strides that require me to scurry to keep up. “The last one I went to was right after my family was murdered, and I was handed off to Keziah and Ray. It was a whole fucking thing that a light nephilim family was taking in a dark nephilim child. They had to prove they could train me properly.”

“I’m guessing it wasn’t an oral quiz of some kind,” I comment, holding onto the strap of my backpack to keep it from sliding down my arm.

He snorts with derision. “They had to fight the three most powerful dark nephilim in attendance to first blood. If either of them got a single scratch deep enough to bleed, I would have been shipped off to a dark nephilim orphanage.”

“That seems extreme,” I observe while wishing my legs were longer. Having boyfriends all around or above six feet tall means every time they get distracted when they walk, I’m practically jogging to keep from being dragged behind them. Trying not to sound breathless, I add, “I didn’t know there were orphanages specifically for dark nephilim.”

“Dark nephilim tend to have a high volume of orphans. Have to train them somehow,” Donovan answers, his voice flat in a way that hints of deeper feelings on the subject.

“So you’re not looking forward to this retreat because it will bring up bad memories?” I ask, trying to get to the root of what’s clearly bothering him.

Donovan stops to hold the front door open for me. “It sucks, but I’ll get over it.” He releases a breath that seems to be lodged in his chest. “I’m eighteen now. If they decide that they need me out there fighting, then that’s it. I’ll get my GED, and no more senior year.”

“What? No!” I yell, gripping his hand like someone is trying to yank him from me. “You said Kaleb’s parents made sure you had to finish high school first.”

“That was before two demons walked up to our front door, and I proved I could handle myself.” He stares out at the empty lawn with a rueful smile on his face. “Keziah and Ray did too good of a job.”

It’s my turn to drag him, because the buzzing panic inside me needs me to keep moving. “I don’t understand. Who is making these decisions? Do angels pop in from heaven and decree you fight well, so fuck whatever plans you had for your last year of freedom?”

“It’s hot when you curse,” he murmurs, apparently entertained by my freak-out.

“Donovan!” I screech, stomping toward the parking lot where his black truck is parked. “This is serious.”

“As far as I’m aware, angels haven’t come to the mortal realm in thousands of years,” he supplies unhelpfully, while easily keeping pace with me. When I give him a hard look, he sighs and continues, “Nephilim operate in a web of different networks, each led by a council of six—three light and three dark—known as a concilium. The various concilia decide how best to utilize and distribute resources, including us.”

“Resources? You’re a person, not some bag of flour to be handed over to make bread,” I complain, outraged that these councils would see their people as nothing more than pawns to be pushed around.

He shrugs as he reaches for the keys in his pocket. “Nephilim’s whole fucking bag is all about serving the greater good, divine calling, and all that crap. Personal preference doesn’t really play a huge role in their decision-making.”

When we reach the truck, I release his hand, unsure if the sweat on my palm is his or mine. “What happens if you don’t do what they tell you to? Do nephilim enforcers come in and put you in supernatural jail or something?”

“I don’t know,” he admits while he opens the passenger door. “I never planned to resist.”

“What?” I squawk, looking up at him like he’s suddenly transformed into someone I don’t know. “But you’re literally the embodiment of fuck the system.”

Donovan takes my backpack off my shoulder, and I’m too stunned to do anything more than blink at him. He tosses it into the back seat. “Do I believe the whole ‘I have no choice in my future, because of which angel my ancestors fucked’ is messed up? Yes, but they aren’t wrong that someone has to do it.” He reaches around my waist and lifts me into the truck, like I weigh little more than air. “Besides, I have demons literally hunting down my bloodline, and I’m the end of that particular road. Regardless of the concilium, one way or another, I’m going to have to fight.”

I reach for him before he can close the door. “You’re not still planning to go after the demons that killed your family, are you?”

There’s a tic in his jaw as he grits his teeth, but to my great relief, he shakes his head. “I’m not going to ignore them, but I’m not going to go looking for them.” His vibrant, aqua eyes that mark him as part of the Morningstar line stare into mine with a fierce sincerity that makes my heart flutter. “I have reasons to stick around as long as possible.”

“I love you,” I murmur, unable to keep the sentiment to myself.

He gives me one of his cocky smirks. “I know.”

My brows furrow as an amused smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. “Did you just make a Star Wars reference?”

“No,” he answers with a snort. “All that geeky shit is between you and Felix.”

I chuckle to myself as he closes the door and moves over to the driver’s side. It’d figure that the only way Donovan would reference a sci-fi movie would be by accident, but it amuses me that he quoted Han Solo of all characters. There are definitely some similarities between him and the rogue smuggler.

He tosses his backpack next to mine and easily hoists himself into the truck. Turning the engine over, he asks, “Are we practicing at your place or mine? K is over at Nolan’s, but I can’t guarantee Keziah and Ray aren’t at the house.”

Logically, I know I need all the help I can get, but I’m embarrassed that Donovan will witness just how bad I am. In hopes of distracting him, I lick my lips and flash him my doe eyes. “Are you sure cooking is how you want to spend our time alone together?”

His smirk turns wicked, and he reaches over to clasp the back of my neck. Pulling me close as he leans down, he brushes his lips against mine. Excited that my ploy worked, I try to deepen the kiss, but I’m quickly thwarted by his low, gravelly chuckle. “Nice try, angel. Your cooking is a safety hazard. We’re doing this. Now tell me where.”

“Fine,” I grumble with an exaggerated pout. “You’re no fun.”

“I’m a lot of fun, and if you’re a good little student,” Donovan murmurs, brushing his nose against mine, “I’ll treat you to as much fun as you want.” He nips my protruding bottom lip, which sends an excited shock through my system, and releases me.

Sitting back in my seat, I cross my arms over my chest and do my best to hide how affected I am by the mere suggestion of the “fun” he offers. “We should probably go to my house.” I fidget in my seat as I mumble, “Mildred sort of already put fire suppression spells in the kitchen from my last attempt to practice.”

He opens his mouth, a follow-up question in his eyes, before he snaps it closed and shakes his head. “You know what? I don’t want to know.”

“Probably for the best,” I comment, chewing on my lip.

The incident in question wouldn’t have been so bad if we didn’t have a gas stove at home. The small flame already makes me nervous, so when the grease caught fire, instead of quickly throwing a cooking lid over it to smother it, I panicked and made it bigger. Luckily for me, my nan was nearby to quickly magick it out. Now all of our pots and pans have safety spells on them, which means nothing is getting flambéed anytime soon.

As we leave school and start heading toward my house, I try to come up with one recipe I’m not absolutely horrible at and miss that Donovan has also grown contemplative. The drive through town is accompanied only by the sounds of some kind of hard rock playlist, and it isn’t until we hit the long strip of highway that leads toward home that I notice how tense he’s gotten.

Staring at the way his knuckles have gone white from gripping the steering wheel so hard, I ask gently, “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” he grunts through clenched teeth.

“Let me rephrase,” I state with a raised brow. “You look like you’re about to bend the steering wheel into a new, creative shape. What’s wrong?”

His hands shake as he tries to relax them. “Have you…” He hesitates, the words hovering on his tongue.

“Have I what?” I prompt, my hands restless in my lap. I want to touch and comfort him, but I’m never sure that’s what he wants.

He swallows heavily. “Have you seen any ghosts around?”

“Occasionally, when I’m volunteering at the hospital, but Kaleb’s parents are quick to help those who don’t immediately move on,” I answer, twisting my fingers together. “I do my best to pretend I don’t see them. It’s hard, because they look so lost, but I know I’m not equipped to help them. Sometimes I wonder why I even have this power at all.”

Donovan nods, a quick jerk of his head. “But not right—” He stops but then shouts, “Shut the fuck up!”

A startled squeak pops out of my mouth when he slams on the brakes and swerves off the road. We bump along on the gravel and dirt shoulder before sliding to a stop. Adrenaline courses through my veins as my heart hammers in my chest. I turn in my seat to find Donovan’s fists pressed against his eyes as he hisses, “Fuck,” over and over.

Immediately, I unbuckle my seatbelt, get to my knees, and reach for him, pulling his rigid body against mine. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“She’s fucking haunting me,” he shouts, his breaths coming out in labored gasps. “Constantly whispering her bullshit. I didn’t know there was a choice. She was going to kill him. I did what I was supposed to do, and she won’t leave me alone.”

My head whips around, searching for any other presence, but I only sense the two of us. “Who?”

He moves his hands away from his face, and his expression is tortured as he stares at a fixed point just beyond the nose of the truck. “You don’t see her?”

Despite knowing what I’ll find, I look again—dirt, gravel, and trees. No ghost. “There’s no one there.”

“Shit!” he yells, slamming his hands against the steering wheel. “That’s fucking great. I’m going insane.”

To hide my flinch, I squeeze him tighter, my fingers barely touching around his broad shoulders. “Who are you seeing?”

“Letti,” he whispers, his voice hoarse. “Ever since I cut her head off and sent what was left of her soul back to hell, she keeps showing up to fuck with me.”

“Nolan’s sister?” I clarify, my stomach sick with the knowledge of the trauma Donovan’s been suffering for the past seven months.

He nods woodenly. “She looks so much like him. Sometimes I don’t see her. Sometimes it’s Nolan’s neck under my blade.”

Knowing he’d hate if I started crying, I blink really hard and release a shuddering breath. “What did you mean you didn’t know you had a choice?”

“Her soul. It wasn’t…” His hands fall limply in his lap as he continues to stare into the distance. “Demons don’t just exist. They are the corrupted souls of the eternally damned. It’s the torture that creates them, stripping away any remaining humanity until all that’s left is the embodiment of what got them sent there in the first place.”

“But Letti’s soul never went to hell,” I reply, starting to puzzle out what he’s leading to. “The demon inside her was the one corrupting her… but not all of her.”

“Not all of her,” he echoes, his gaze dropping to his hands. His fingers flex inward, as if gripping some unseen object. “I didn’t know everything you could do then. Had I restrained her instead of killing her, maybe you could have saved her.”

“Or I could have made it worse,” I reason, my entire being aching under the weight of his pain and self-doubt. “I could have made her stronger, or she might have escaped before I could try and killed a bunch of other innocent people.” My back hurts from the awkward angle I’m leaning in, but I refuse to let him go. Instead, I rest my head against the top of his shoulder. “That night, I eviscerated a man from existence. He was a bad man, but all that remains of him now is what stains my soul.”

Donovan’s chin bumps the top of my head as he looks over at me. “What do you mean ‘stains your soul?’”

“You’re not the only one who sees things that aren’t there,” I confess, sniffing back the emotion beginning to climb up my throat. “I get flashes of the old alpha’s memories. Most of them are horrible, but not all of them. He loved his mate fiercely and never stopped grieving her loss. The price for taking a soul, I guess, knowing that there’s humanity even in the most evil of people.”

“Is that what this is?” he murmurs, the tension slowly draining from his body. “The price for killing her?”

I pull back far enough to look into his tired eyes and offer him a sad smile. “If it was easy for us to take a life, then we’d be no better than them.”

“Angel, this is the rest of my life,” he states, his voice rough. “Letti isn’t going to be the only one. What the fuck am I supposed to do? I’ll go insane if this happens every time.”

Despite only recently coming into my powers, my first instinct is to turn to magic to solve his problem. However, anything I’m capable of doing would either only blanket the pain or alter him in some unforeseeable ways. I can fix a broken body, but this requires his own journey.

“Maybe the nephilim retreat is just what you need,” I suggest, even as my heart breaks at the thought of him being ripped away from me. “It’ll give you a chance to talk to other dark nephilim who’ve been through what you have. If they don’t have solutions, at the very least, you’ll know you’re not alone.”

He places a hand to his chest and flashes me a crooked smirk. “I’m never alone. You made sure of that.”

“That’s right,” I murmur, resting my forehead against his. “I’m with you always. Never forget that.”

“Never,” he echoes, turning toward me in his seat.

His hands slide underneath my shirt and up my sides as he tilts his head to kiss me. My aching soul blooms to something far sweeter under his touch, and I hum happily as his tongue enters my mouth. He tastes of cinnamon and smells of his familiar leather and musk. The combination both excites me and makes me feel safe. He is part of the foundation on which my new life is built. No matter the distance the future holds between us, we will always be a part of each other.

I brace my hands on his shoulders to keep from toppling into his lap, which leaves my upper body free for his exploration. He groans with desire as he cups me through my unpadded bra, his heated hands molding my flesh.

“Fuck, you feel good,” Donovan praises against my lips. “I want you all the damn time.”

“Enough to forget about my cooking lesson?” I tease, pressing myself into his touch.

He laughs, the gravel in his voice sending shivers down my spine. “Not a chance, but I could be persuaded to delay it for an hour or two.”

Sitting up on my knees, I peek around to find that the highway is very deserted at the moment. A reckless fire burns within me, and I give him a coy smile as I reach for the clasps of my bra underneath my shirt. “I can be very persuasive.”

His eyes zero in on my chest, bright with undiluted desire. “I’m listening.”

I slowly unhook the clasps, slip the straps from my arms, and pull my bra out from underneath my shirt. Tossing it into the back seat, I brace my hands on the center console, framing my breasts between my upper arms. “I’ve become more of a girl of action recently. I should probably just show you.”

“Alright.” He grins wide enough to show teeth as he unbuckles his seatbelt and slides his seat back. “Show me what you’ve got, angel.”

Maneuvering myself until I’m sitting in his lap with my legs draped over the center console, I press my ass into his growing erection and lead his hand under my shirt. I release a soft moan as he pinches my peaked nipple.

Fisting my fingers in his hair, I give it a slight tug and order, “Kiss me.”

“Fuck yes,” he cheers enthusiastically, right before he devours me.

Eventually, he drops the seat fully back, tugging me on top of him. Our hands roam freely, stroking and teasing over jeans and under shirts, while our tongues dance and our lips bruise from our frenzied excitement.

Time passes without meaning as we taste and taunt, playing with the line of how far am I willing to go inside the cab of his truck as occasional random cars speed past us. Donovan seems to enjoy the game, never hinting that he’s frustrated for more, and it emboldens me. I trust him, and I want to feel him skin to skin, but not on the side of the damn highway.

As I rack my brain for somewhere private we could go, my phone starts to ring a familiar tune inside the front pouch of my backpack. I want to ignore it, but it’s dark out, and my nan would kill me if I didn’t pick up. As I break away to retrieve my phone, Donovan grumbles in disappointment until such efforts to get my phone result in my boobs being smashed into his face.

“Tell whoever that is you’re busy,” he murmurs into my chest, sliding my shirt farther up my body until I’m dangerously close to flashing him.

“Behave, it’s Mildred,” I hiss, and then I answer before it has a chance to go to voicemail. “Hi, Nan.”

“Hello, darling,” she greets, her British accent softening the endearment. “I’m sorry to interrupt your date, but I got a call from that horrid woman wondering if you planned to visit Nolan this evening. I don’t know what else she possibly has to do, but she gave the impression that her time is being somehow wasted while waiting for your arrival. I told her that you were busy and reminded her that your blood was a gift, not a—”

“No, yeah… I mean, yes, I plan to go over to Nolan’s to feed him,” I answer, sitting up before Donovan gets any bright ideas of lifting my shirt any higher. “I figured I’d go after dinner.”

Warm amusement colors her words as she replies, “Dear, it’s eight o’clock.”

“What?” I squawk, and then blurt to Donovan, “We’ve been making out for over four hours?”

“Glad you’re enjoying yourself.” My nan laughs.

“Crap,” I squeak, drop my head against Donovan’s shoulder, and mumble into my phone. “You weren’t supposed to hear that.”

He squeezes my ass with both hands before stealing my phone from my mortified grip. “Hi. It’s Donovan. You can let the doc know we’re on our way.”

“Don’t feel like you have to hurry on her account,” she says way too cheerfully. “I hear patience is a virtue.”

Chuckling a goodbye, he hands me the phone.

Fumbling with one hand, I tug my shirt down and climb back into my seat while hurrying through my own goodbyes. Logically, I know I shouldn’t be embarrassed, but for some reason, I want to keep the illusion that Mildred has no idea what I get up to with any of my four—hopefully one day five—boyfriends.

Donovan adjusts the seat into a driving position. He looks over at me while I put my seatbelt on, his full lips pulling into a humored smirk. “Not that you have to, since I’m sure Nolan won’t complain, but you might want to put your bra back on.”

“Crap,” I squeak again, clutching my chest like I can’t tell they are free flying, and then I immediately scramble into the back seat, looking for the illusive undergarment.

It takes an alarming amount of time to find it, even after Donovan turns on the cab lights. Eventually, I’m able to sneak it back on without flashing anyone, and we’re back on the road, heading to Nolan’s. Anyone who takes one look at me will know what we’ve been up to, but that’s the price I’m willing to pay to get out of cooking lessons.