Page 31 of Rogue Riders Duet

So I grit my teeth and stay still, pretending the pain isn’t there and ignoring every nerve that’s begging to be numbed.

“What are you doing here?” My voice comes out rough, but that’s a good thing because I forgot to deepen it.

Finn raises an eyebrow. “Here, as in your sacred nap zone?”

“No. Here, as in my bus. Don’t you usually roll in one of those high-end team buses? Beds, espresso machines, TVs bigger than Dane’s ego…”

God, I miss those things. Those buses made hours on the road feel like spa days. This rust bucket couldn’t cushion a sneeze.

Finn shrugs, then takes a slow sip from his can. “Figured a twenty-six-hour drive was the perfect time to catch up with my best friend. Share the wheel, swap stories. Because apparently, his little cousin prefers passing out at the table to pulling his weight.”

He’s been driving with us from the start?

Then again, I can’t even remember hitting the road.

“Right.” I shift in my seat. God, I hope I didn’t snore.

Finn watches me over the rim of his drink. “Dane and I have got a lot to talk about, you know. Seven years is a long time. Whole lives can happen in that span.”

There’s something about the way he says it, like it’s too pointed with a gleam in his eyes.

Shit. Dane wouldn’t have told him.

He wouldn’t.

Right?

I keep my face neutral. “That so?”

“Mm-hmm.” He leans back, one arm slung across the seat. “People change. Grow up. Get faster. Bolder.”

“Or older,” I mutter.

He laughs, completely unbothered by the dig, but he doesn’t stop watching me. Doesn’t even blink. I toy with the edge of the notebook, unsure whether he’s just being his usual smug self or is fishing.

“So, Allen.” Finn takes another sip, eyes still pinned on me. “Tell me about yourself.”

“Looking to poach secrets from the privateers?”

He just chuckles. “You into The Offspring?”

“What? Why?”

He tilts his head and gestures with the hand holding the can, pointing it directly at my chest. My gaze follows, and heat floods my face with a punch. Shit.

I’m wearing a faded gray Offspring shirt. No binder. No bra. Just soft cotton and a whole lot of Oh my God. The graphic is stretched in ways I really didn’t think about when I threw it on last night.

I cross my arms fast, folding in on myself to hide inside the fabric, silently praying the table’s edge did its job shielding the very obvious C-cup situation Allen definitely isn’t supposed to have. I lift my chin and attempt to sound unfazed. “Problem with that?”

“Not at all.” Finn’s mouth twitches. “One of my favorites too.” He lets the break in conversation hang just long enough to make me squirm before he adds, “Looks like Dane’s the only Crews whose taste in music sucks. Your other cousin, Alaina? She’s into The Offspring too. Or at least, she was seven years ago.”

He remembers that?

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“Yeah.” I keep my arms crossed, gripping my sides. “I got it from her.”

His eyes gleam, and he leans forward slightly, elbow on the table. “And she got it from me. So ergo…” he taps the air between us, “… you got it from me too. You’re welcome.”