Free Girls' Guide to Flirting with Danger by Kimberly Lang

“I’m not sure it’s safe for you to get out of the car.”
    She really wasn’t in the mood for this. “Your car’s in more danger than I am. So you should probably get it out of here before…”
    Dev wasn’t listening. “That building looks like it should be condemned. Tell me it’s nicer inside.”
    She should, but the lie stalled on her tongue. “Where I live is none of your business.”
    â€œI’m not letting you out of this car, Megan, until I…”
    God, she hated that tone. It brought back old, anger-inducing memories. As if to prove his point, Dev hit the button that locked her door. Irritation crawled over her skin. “What? You’re going to kidnap me from my own front yard?”
    â€œI’d probably be doing you a favor if I did. Jesus, Megan, why are you living like this? You have a job.”
    â€œI have an internship,” she corrected, hating this entire conversation.
    â€œAnd?”
    She sighed. “You really didn’t pay any attention at all to anything I ever said, did you?”
    He didn’t take the bait this time. Instead, his eyes bored into hers as he waited for an explanation. I don’t owe him one, she reminded herself, but she found herself providing it anyway. “I have to do a two-year internship before I get my license. Internships are politically correct, modern forms of slavery—except that the slaver is doing me a favor by letting me work long hours for little or no pay. I’m lucky the Weiss Clinic pays enough for me to live here. ”
    â€œIf you need money…”
    â€œI’m paying my dues, the same as everyone else. In a couple more months I’ll have my hours complete and I’ll sit my exam. Then I’ll be able to get a job that pays a living wage. Until then, I’m treating this as a character-building experience.”
    â€œSo your newfound backbone actually came from living in poverty?”
    â€œIt’s hardly squalor.” She tried to sound upbeat. “In fact, it’s not much worse than our first apartment.”
    He made an odd choking noise. “Our first apartment was a hellhole.”
    In retrospect, it had been exactly that. It just hadn’t felt like it—unlike her current place. And she didn’t need aPhD in anything to tell her why her perception had been rose-colored back then.
    Devin’s grip on her arm tightened incrementally, bringing back those old feelings to tangle with the current ones. And that memory rush was simply too much to handle in the small, dark, cozy confines of Devin’s car.
    He was so close. Too close. She could feel the heat of his body warming the air around them, see the pulse in his neck. If she inhaled when he exhaled, they’d share the same breath. But she wasn’t sure she could breathe.
    And Dev seemed to realize that, too. His attention had moved from her neighborhood to her face and now seemed focused on her lips. Her heart skittered, skipping a couple of beats. Just another inch and she… What the hell am I thinking? She pulled back, putting as much distance between them as the car would allow, and Dev frowned.
    She cleared her throat and chose her words carefully. “I appreciate your concern, but my life is not your business or your problem anymore. Good night, good luck and hopefully we’ll never have to see each other again.”
    Feeling rather proud of her little speech, she reached for the door handle. Devin still held her wrist, and she stared at his hand pointedly until he released his grip.
    The sounds and, unfortunately, smells of her neighborhood rushed in as she opened the door, destroying the quiet cocoon, and the intimacy evaporated. Thank goodness. “Bye, Dev.”
    â€œDamn it, Megan—” Dev began, but she closed the door on his words.
    She climbed the stairs on unsteady legs, the imprint of his hand still burning into her arm. She