That’s my girl.
“This is entirely ridiculous,” she whispers as she closes the distance between them.
I can’t believe the fucker is actually still standing there waiting for her. Doesn’t he have a telecom network or a business operation to attend to?
“I’m here,” she whispers into the line.
“Anor.”
“Banks.” I find myself smiling, leaning back against the leather headrest of my seat as a completely different grievance arrives in my thoughts.
“You didn’t send a single picture or video clip over the weekend.”
“What?”
“Sunday. You attended your second practical driving class, but you didn’t send me any media clips.” I watch her mouth fall open on the screen before she quickly snaps it shut, her eyes downcast.
“Monday. You spent the entire afternoon indoors working on what Vandiver infor
