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part of town.
    But why else did you come here, Jenessa? You know you wanted to meet them sometime.
    You know you want to race.
    â€œYou want to come down and watch?” he asks. “You should. We like chicks.” He smiles but doesn’t look at me. “Don’t get many of them around here. And the ones that do come are usually dogs.”
    There’s something that bugs me about the way he says chick . And dog. I wonder if he ever refers to girls as anything other than animals.
    â€œI kind of like it up here,” I say.
    He looks at me. “What are you afraid of?” he asks.
    I meet his gaze. “Nothing, really,” I say.
    He smiles again, at me this time. He sticks out his hand. “Cody.”
    I look at his hand, then at him. His smile is a bit tight. Different than Dmitri’s. Which is all I’ve been able to think about this past week, damn him. All I want to do is forget about him.
    Maybe this guy can help me out.
    I take Cody’s hand. “Jenessa.”
    â€œYou want to race, Jenessa?”
    I shrug. “Not really,” I lie. “Just like watching.”
    He studies me for a minute. “Bullshit,” he says. “You want to race.”
    I can’t help but laugh. It’s exactly the thing I would say. I look at him. He’s sizing me up, a gleam of a challenge in his eyes.
    â€œMaybe I do,” I say. “But maybe I’ll just watch.”
    Cody jumps to his feet and holds out his hand to pull me up. “Then at least come and watch where there’s beer and lawn chairs. It’s cold in the wind up here.” He looks around. “And you don’t have anything to drink, that I can see.”
    I point to my half-finished bottle of Diet Coke.
    He shrugs. “If you call that a drink.”
    I consider his offer. “All right,” I say. I stand, ignoring his outstretched hand, and draw my jacket around me. He leaves his hand there for a second to make the point that I’ve been rude in not accepting it.
    I pick up my blanket and Diet Coke.
    Cody shrugs and shoves his hands into his pockets. He leads the way down the hill. “Where’s your car?” he asks.
    I motion toward the bottom of the hill. “Parked around on the construction road.”
    He nods. “Whatcha got?”
    â€œSorry?”
    â€œYour car, duh,” he says. “What do you drive?”
    â€œA GT 2003,” I say, rankled at his comment. Guess he was getting me back for rejecting him up on the hilltop.
    I can’t resist. “What do you drive, duh ?”
    He stops so suddenly that I almost bump into him. He turns around to face me. I feel a tiny spiral of fear start to twist in my belly. He looks at me for a moment. Then he smiles, but it doesn’t touch his eyes. “You’re a tough chick, Jenessa. I like that.”
    He points toward where all the cars are lined up in the ditch, just out of sight. A few guys are leaning against an old convertible, talking and laughing. “Mine’s the Viper, 2009.”
    â€œNice,” I say. I mean it. It’s a beautiful car.
    â€œYou got that right,” he says.
    We join the group, and Cody introduces me around. Mike, Mark, Rishad, some guy whose nickname is Bibs. They say hi and give me quick smiles.
    Cody bends to take a bottle of beer from a cooler on the ground.
    He turns to me and winks. “A mustang and a viper, huh? That’s quite the hot little combo. I think they go pretty well together.” He takes my hand. I let him have it, but not before he feels my instinctive reflex to pull away. He pulls me closer, forcing me to take a step toward him. I fight the urge to pull back. Instead I go bold, letting him get close.
    Cody looks at me. His eyes are a clear green, beautiful, like the ocean, but they’re cool. I look right into them, not flinching. He pulls me a fraction of a step closer. “You are a wild little mustang,” he says. I