Tristan didn’t know how to swim, and he was terrified of the water.
Spoiled.
Ass.
Tristan rubbed the leather steering wheel again with his thumb. “So tell me, which highborn prince will invade your tower at the next rich girl’s party?”
“Don’t be crude, Tristan,” she mumbled.
“I’m not. I just want to know. Do you already have one lined up, or will anyone with the right pedigree do? Must he be a senator of Saxony? Are you too good for the New Bristol High House?”
Lila closed her eyes and leaned back into the passenger seat.
“Well?”
Lila ignored him. After a while, he stopped baiting her.
It was a long trip back to New Bristol.
Dixon already had the dock door raised by the time they approached the shop, as though waiting for their arrival. She had already donned her mesh hood, obscuring her face, ready to jump on her Firefly and return home.
Shirley met them at the door and stuffed her hands into her pockets. She looked at Lila over the top of her bifocals and clucked her tongue. “Hood’s back.”
“Looks like it.” Lila shut the truck door. “You seem to have neglected the radio in this one.”
“Radios don’t get you from point A to B. Radios aren’t important.”
“Obviously you’ve never tried to keep up a civil conversation with that one for longer than five minutes,” she said, jerking her chin to Tristan. “Trust me, it’s important.”
Shirley and her assistants smirked. A woman sitting on Shirley’s swivel stool cackled as she twirled around and around. “That’s what I like about you, Hood,” Samantha said, the purple feather in her black derby hat floating while she spun. “You always say the loveliest things.”
“Out, all of you,” Tristan barked. “It’s lunchtime.”
Samantha hopped down from the stool and followed Shirley’s assistants. The old woman herded a little ginger boy out from behind the tangle of automobiles and quickly joined them.
“Would you mind not insulting me in front of the others?” Tristan grumbled, slamming the truck door after they’d gone.
“Stop leaving yourself open to it, then.” Lila snatched up her helmet.
Fighting again? Dixon wrote on his notepad.
When Lila shrugged, he scribbled a second note. PLD? I’ll bring here.
“Chinese again?”
Dixon rubbed his stomach. His eyebrows twitched roguishly.
“Now that you guys live next door, you’re going to get sick of it in a few weeks. I guarantee it.”
Dixon shook his head.
“Come on. We have work to do, Dixon.” Tristan yanked open the door to the back of the shop and disappeared into the dim interior of the building.
Dixon ignored the order. He’s our chairwoman.
Lila cocked her head to the side.
He takes care of everyone. It puts him in a bad mood. He means well.