Chapter 134
134:
“No!” Dylan and Ralphy snapped at the same time.
Davina froze. Letting them take her flashy sports car wasn’t enough? She raised a brow. “So what do you suggest? How about you all ask your own drivers to bring the cars back so you get your own ride?”
Ralphy stepped forward, waving off the idea. “No need for all that. You ride with me in your sports car. Dylan and Elliott can squeeze in with Miss Jones.”
Davina eyed him, doubtful. “You sure about that?”
Ralphy nodded. “One hundred percent.”
Not wanting any last-minute changes, Ralphy took Davina’s hand right away. “Come on. Let’s get going before the pizza place shuts down.” As they walked off, Christina turned to Dylan and Elliott. “Do you guys want to call another car?”
“No need,” Dylan and Elliott replied in sync.
“Thanks for the lift, Miss Jones,” Elliott said smoothly. He reached for the door and slid into the passenger seat without missing a beat.
Dylan’s face dropped. Seriously? That fast?
Elliott glanced at Dylan and smirked.
That smug little grin made Dylan’s jaw twitch.
Christina looked at Dylan. “What’s wrong? You not getting in?”
Dylan muttered, “Nothing.” His voice was tight.
Then, after a beat, he frowned and added flatly, “I get carsick.”
Christina blinked. “What? Since when? You’ve never gotten carsick before.”
They’d ridden together plenty of times—he was always fine.
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“Just feeling off today,” Dylan said quickly, even adding a hint of weakness to his tone.
Christina studied him. He did look a little pale. “Then take the front seat. Might help,” she offered.
If it were just regular carsickness, she’d let him drive. But if he was sick, she couldn’t risk that.
“But—” Dylan glanced at Elliott, who was already stretched out comfortably in the passenger seat.
“I’ll handle it,” Christina said, walking over to the car. She opened the door. “Mr. Hubbard, can you move to the back? Dylan is not feeling well.”
Elliott frowned. He hadn’t expected Dylan to pull off that trick. “I get carsick too,” he shot back. His triumph had been short-lived—now he was the one getting blindsided. Dylan was really a scheming fox. The old folks weren’t wrong about Dylan.
“Mr. Hubbard, you were just fine racing around earlier,” Christina said dryly.
“Yeah, well… now I feel sick,” Elliott said stubbornly.
Christina sighed. She saw right through it. “Fine. Then you drive. I’ll sit in the back.”
“Deal!” Elliott said immediately. Since Dylan resorted to such a trick, he would return the favor. He quickly moved to the driver’s seat, flashing Dylan a mocking look. “Hop in, Mr. Scott,” he said, the formality dripping with sarcasm.
Dylan clenched his jaw and moved to open the back door.
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