Free Random on Tour: Los Angeles (Random Series #7) by Julia Kent

me out of this.
    “He looks pretty menacing to me,” she said, then cleared her throat meaningfully.
    I touched my hair. “Seriously? You’re judging people by their exterior?”
    “You do it to keep people out.”
    I thumbed toward Tyler. “Why do you think he does it?”
    “I don’t get tats and crazy hair colors. I can admire them, but I don’t get it.”
    “You don’t have to get it. You just have to lend me your car for a few days. Use Dad’s while I’m gone. I can’t take that.”
    She smirked. “He’d kill you. No one touches his Tesla.” Dad’s midlife crisis had been to buy a Tesla. Mom said she appreciated that vs. a mistress. Who wouldn’t? Teslas don’t give you herpes. Although, Dad loved that car so much he probably would have sex with it if he could. 
    Lena sighed and bounced one foot nervously. I watched her face, realizing how tired she was, as she grappled with this.
    “You need to do this,” she finally said, her voice firm.
    “I do?”
    “Yes. You’ve been wound tight as a drum for more years than needed. Mom and Dad treat you like you’re broken. They love you, but the kid glove treatment is hard to watch.”
    “Jealous?” 
    She shot me a look that said she was anything but. “Not jealous. I just think that if something in you intuitively says to do this, you should trust your gut.” 
    My gut. Trust. The words didn’t make sense. Some day maybe they would. All I knew right now was that she wasn’t fighting me on this. Weird.
    She reached into her jacket pocket and handed me her car keys. “Good thing we’re all still on a family car insurance policy.” Ever-pragmatic Lena lived in a small cottage behind the house. Our grandma had lived there until last year, when she’d died. Lena’s return was smooth after she and her long-term boyfriend of eight years had separated. 
    Having her accept this made me deeply insecure. It was like someone poked a small hole in my slightly under-inflated balloon self. The steady, small leak made me collapse from the inside out. Already on the fence, I found myself questioning this strange ordeal.
    And then my phone buzzed, forgotten in my pocket and now insisting on my attention. I held up one finger to tell Lena to hold on and answered it.
    “Hi, Darla.”
    “Oh, thank fucking God, Maggie. I’ve been half out of my mind sending messages. Tyler emailed me from the library earlier about how he got cleaned out and I freaked and called Charlotte and I can’t believe he lives in the same city as you! How’s that for serendipity.”
    Yeah. Right.
    “Lucky, huh?” I muttered.
    “It’s fate!” she shouted. Lena widened her eyes and I mouthed the words band manager .
    She nodded slowly and whispered, “I’m going to talk to Mr. Bad Boy. Give him the third degree.”
    I rolled my eyes. I knew Lena. She’d pack him a goodie bag and bake him two dozen pecan sandies while covertly doing an interrogation worthy of the CIA.
    “Maggie, you there? Tyler there?”
    “He’s here.”
    “So you’ll drive him out?”
    My answer perched on the tip of my tongue. Once the promise was made I couldn’t back out. Seven long years since the defining moment of my life. Two months since I tried to use Tyler like a white board eraser. I’d needed him to rub me out.
    Er...
    “Yes,” I answered quickly. Before I could change my mind.
    “YAY!” Darla screamed. “You got a credit card? We’ll reimburse you for expenses. If you guys need a hotel room for the trip, let me know.”
    Record scratch moment.
    Hotel room?
    I heard a low, smooth baritone voice laughing in the distance. Who else was here? I walked to the end of the hall and peered into the kitchen to see Lena stacking bags of chips and pulling out coffee thermoses from the cupboards. 
    And laughing with Tyler.
    I’d never seen him laugh like this before. Ever. The sound was infectious, making a grin spread across my face and filling me with a fuzzy glow. 
    Twenty-nine hours of that