Free Playing Hooky (Paranormal Investigations) by Rita J Webb Page B

the bakery around the corner.” Just off campus, there’s a scrumptious little shop, but I never have time in the mornings. I turn back to my room but then stop. “Oh, how do I need to dress for the day?”
    “Sure.” He runs his hands through his hair, but his eyes are too busy following my ass to pay attention to anything I said.
    “Jason.” I snap my fingers. “Up here. What do I need to wear?”
    His gaze shifts to my face, and he grins, not even having the decency to flush. “Dress warm.”
    Good. So we’re going to have an adventure.

Chapter 2

    ~ JASON ~

    OUTSIDE, A BRISK wind brushes against my skin, bringing the flavors of winter—cold snow and log fires and something ancient that stirs a longing in my blood.
    But today, Emma is with me, and I can ignore the hollow ache around my heart. The angry fire burning inside my gut calms in her presence.
    She’s short, barely coming up to my shoulder, and she has the cute little nose and the short, blonde curls of a cheerleader. Only hers are uncombed and wild.
    If I told her how she’d make a cute cheerleader, she would tear me apart. She could flay a man alive with that sharp tongue of hers. And I love every stormy minute of having her as my best friend.
    Leading her out to my truck, I watch her hips sway and appreciate how she fills out her faded jeans—the ink stains on the thighs and the dirt at the cuffs indicate she grabbed them off the floor of her room. She’s bundled into her white ski jacket with the fur trim, and the only patch of skin I can see is around her eyes, but I can’t help but think of those pink cotton panties riding up her right cheek and giving me a glimpse of the best ass I’ve ever seen.
    My big blue truck with its studded tires waits in the back of the parking lot. My mom has loads of money, but I bought a fixer-upper, an old run-down truck with even more broken parts than rust spots.
    With a shiny coat of blue paint and the Hemi engine I added, you’d never know what a sorry state it was in when I first dragged it home by way of tow truck. Mom only shook her head and said, “Just keep it simple.”
    She meant don’t add any magic to it, but she needn’t have worried. I wanted to make it run using sweat, grime, and my own two hands. Now I own my own car shop, and I do paint detail work and restore old cars, turning junk into art. Then I sell the cars on eBay and ship them all across the country.
    Fixing and customizing cars—that’s my winter job, when tourist season is over and the snow traps me inside, but all summer, I lead tours around our Kodiak Island. People pay loads of money to anyone who will help them take pictures of whales and bears or find the best fishing spots.
    “How forlorn he looks. I think he missed us.” I pat the roof of the truck.
    “It’s a car.”Emma laughs and tosses two sets of skis into the bed of the truck. This is Alaska. Don’t leave home without them.
    “Shh, it’s a truck and you’ll hurt his feelings.”
    “I thought cars were all female.”
    “Without boy cars, how will you get any baby cars?” I waggle my eyebrows at her and lean forward to catch a whiff of her scent. No perfume, just raw Emma scent.
    She arches an eyebrow. “Oh, you finally figured that out, did you?”
    I grin down at her. When we were kids, she explained the birds and the bees to me, but I insisted I washed up on the ocean beach. Emma never believed me.
    When I got older, I learned we were both right.
    I unlock the passenger side. Maybe she’s not my girlfriend, but I still believe in old world manners. Thankfully, stubborn as she is, she stopped complaining about me doing this years ago.
    She climbs in, and I shut the door behind her. When I get in on my side, she says, “So where did you say we are going again today?”
    “I didn’t.”
    “Yes, I distinctly remember you saying the theater house had a matinee showing of Puss in Boots.”
    I grin, shooting her an amused glance.
    “Oh no, I was