Free Breakaway by Deirdre Martin Page B

don’t want you to say a word to me between here and Sandra’s house. AND I’m sitting in the back with La—LJ.”
    Rory looked amused.
    “This isn’t amusing.”
    Rory held up his hands in surrender. “I know.”
    “Let’s get this poor child home. And remember—”
    “I’m nothing but your chauffeur. Got it.”
    *   *   *
    “Thank you for the lift. I can walk from here, thank you.”
    LJ had looked a bit green when they’d started out from the camp, but then Rory engaged him in football chat and told him stories about New York, and he perked up a bit. What lad wouldn’t, having a private audience with the great Rory Brady and getting a ride in his Range Rover?
    A few times, Erin caught Rory looking at her in the rearview mirror, and she’d frown. What did he think? One potent look from his famous blue eyes and she’d come undone? Arrogant twit.
    After thanking Rory for the lift, she took LJ inside. Lucy was there, legs dangling over the side of the sofa while shewatched a repeat of
Father Ted
. She barely looked up as Erin gave her a piece of her mind about feeding her siblings. But then Erin spoke the magic words: “You do know that if I tell your mother about this, she’ll take away some of your privileges, don’t you?” The lackadaisical teen pretended not to care, but Erin caught the unsettled look that flickered across her face.
    Erin wondered if she should stay until Sandra got home, but LJ seemed recovered enough to hop on to the computer. Erin rustled his hair, told him to ring her if he needed her, and left.
    Rory’s Range Rover was idling outside Sandra’s house, the passenger-side window rolled down. “I’ll run you home. Hop in.”
    “Hop yourself.”
    “C’mon, Erin; you’re being ridiculous.”
    Erin refused to look at him as she started to walk away, Rory’s car crawling along beside her.
    “Get in. I’m going to keep shadowing you till you do.”
    “Really?” She pointed to a small rusted Toyota two blocks up. “How are you going to explain it to the owner when you just keep going and you smash into the back of his car?”
    “I’ll pay for repairs.”
    “God!” Erin spat out disgustedly. “Do you hear yourself? ‘Look at me, I’m Mr. Smoothie. I’ve got money. I don’t care whose property I destroy’”—she looked at him pointedly—“‘or who I hurt, because I’m the great Rory Brady.’”
    “It was a joke.”
    “Right.” She couldn’t believe his car was continuing to crawl beside her.
    “D’you want me to beg? I will. Erin, please, please—”
    “Shut up!” Erin snapped. Embarrassed, she hopped into the passenger seat and slunk down. “Happy now?”
    “Yes.” Rory stopped the car and looked at her. “Why’re you sinking down like you’ve got no spine?”
    “I don’t want to be seen with you!”
    Rory hit a button and the passenger-side window silently closed. “Suit yourself,” he said, easing away from the curb. “But the windows are tinted. No one can see you anyway.”
    Erin reluctantly sat up straight. She hadn’t really had a chance to take in the car while riding back from the camp, being more concerned with LJ. But it was beautiful. Leather seats, a GPS, and all that…and it didn’t make a sound, just purred along. A rich man’s car. She could just imagine what Old Jack and that lot were saying about it. The sheer jealousy of it must be choking them.
    She hadn’t really taken in Rory, either. As soon as she’d stupidly agreed to let him drive her and LJ, they’d gone directly to the car. He was in football gear: jersey and shorts. It showed off his physique, his muscled legs…and contrary to what she’d said, he was a good driver. Confident in everything. Erin used to wish some of it would rub off on her.
    They were halfway down the road before Erin asked, “Where’re you going?”
    Rory looked at her oddly. “What do you mean, where am I going? I’m going to your house.”
    “I don’t live on Bryant Street