As I started the SUV to take us home, I took a final look through the windshield at the small amusement park. It was hard to believe this flashy human place was where I had just spent two of the best hours in my life. And almost the entirety of that time Samantha and I had been in the bumper cars.

True, I had been bested at the very ride I had suggested. Despite my efforts, Samantha had bumped into me so many times I had lost count. But loss had never been so worth it.

I had come up with the idea of a bumper cars ride when I had seen all the destructive emotions her horrifying story had reawakened. I had had to provide her with an outlet for that fear, anger and frustration or she would have bottled the negative feelings down once more. Since I was among the causes for Samantha's pent-up frustration, giving her the opportunity to bump the shit out of me had done the trick.

And not just that. My idea had succeeded in making Samantha laugh. Engrossed in the game, she had forgotten to suppress the evidence of her enjoying her time with me. She had giggled when I had barely managed to fit in the bumper car. She had cackled while delivering bump after bump and taunting me with, "Who's driving a tin can now, General?" She had laughed wholeheartedly when at the end I had gotten stuck in the car and her tugging to get me out of there had resulted in both of us ending up on our assess on the floor.

I myself had smiled more tonight that I had in the past month combined. My 'grumpy resting face', as Dean affectionately called my traditional scowl, had not made an appearance either during the bumpy ride or while we had been eating our dinner afterwards on the grassy hill overlooking the amusement park. That was all thanks to the smart, tough and feisty female currently sitting beside me.

Samantha was quiet now, though. What had made her withdraw back in her shell? It couldn't be the story I had told her over the box of sushi, because she had been lively throughout. Engrossed even, while I had been telling her of my years as a lone shifter before my first meeting with Dean and the subsequent hard times when I had had to adapt to life in a pride again.

"What's going on, darlin'?"

"Nothing." She made it sound as if all was good but her averted gaze and restless fingers told me otherwise.

Something was bothering her. I might not get her to admit what it was but fuck me if I didn't get her spirits up. No way was our date night ending on a sad note.

"I find this nothing that is going on very surprising, Samantha. I expected payback from my spitfire."

That finally made her gaze my way, a frown creasing her brow. "Payback?"

"Didn't a certain redhead declare upon losing at foosball that I would 'pay for this'?" Back when we had played that one quick game, she had protested and laughed simultaneously when I had scored the winning goal by accidentally lifting the entire table in my excitement.

Samantha barely smiled before looking away from me again. "You're safe, Sebastian, I'm not a sore loser."

"But I am. I was thinking of punishing you for beating me at bumper cars."

"Spank me again and you lose that hand," she warned.

"As tempting as that sounds, I have a different punishment in mind. It's one that has been imposed on many pride members and has always worked like a charm. No one has dared defeat me at Street Fighter ever since."

She cast a quick look my way.

"No touching is involved, if you were so hoping," I said as I reached for the on button on the radio. "Unless you count my voice touching your very soul."

Before she could ask what the fuck I was talking about, I found the right radio station. The one with the modern human music that Anna kept playing to the point where I had learned the lyrics.

"Is it too late to say sorryyy?" I sang along with Bieber. "Cause I'm missing more than just your bodyyy..."

"Nooo." Samantha turned around in her seat to face me fully, eyes wide.

I grinned. "Oooh, oooh, sooorryyy... Oooh, oooh..."

"Stop it, Sebastian." She covered her ears with her hands but there was no hiding the sparkle of amusement in her eyes. "You're horrible at singing."

"Sorryyy, ohh, sorryyyy..." I kept going with what Dean called soul-crushing torture, Bas-style.

A giggle escaped Samantha. "You're killing me!"

"Okay, I'll be merciful. Let's switch to Latino FM."

The tunes of Despacito filled the car.

"No!" Samantha squealed. "Don't you dare!"

My grin reached my ears. "Des-pa-citoooo..." I sang to my giggling mate. Or was I howling? I couldn't really tell the difference. "Something, something, itooo..."

"Mercy, Sebastian!" She was laughing now, bent in two in the passenger seat. "Stop before the glass of your precious car cracks."

"Sing along with me, darlin'. Come on. Put my magical voice to shame."

She shook her head with a huge smile on. "I don't know the lyrics in Spanish."

"Just add ito to every word and that's it. Des-pa-citoooo..."

She bit her lip and reached for the radio. For a second there I worried she would turn it off but she switched to the previous station.

"Ha!" she exclaimed triumphantly when the voice of JLo in a duet with some female sounded in the car. "Big, big booty," Samantha sang, eyes on me in challenge, "boy you got a big booty."

I felt triumphant myself as I joined her. "Girl you got a big booty."

"Have you seen him on the dance floor..."

"She got the boom to shake the room..."

"Big, big booty, boy you got..."

"... a big booty!"

By the time we reached the pride's block, our voices were hoarse from singing at the top of our lungs Nicki Minaj's Anaconda and Jason Derulo's Tiptoe.

"I think the Universe is trying to tell us something," Samantha said, relaxing breathless back in her seat while I was parking. "All these songs about big butts being played in a roll can't be a coincidence."

I cast a quick look her way. She was smiling, red-faced from dancing in her seat, and smelling divine.

Good thing we had arrived, otherwise I would be driving intoxicated. Completely drunk on her essence.

"The way I see it," I told her with a grin, "the Universe is saying we should go back to spanking each other."

Samantha poked me with a finger in the shoulder. "No, it's saying you should cut down on the sushi."

I harrumphed. "I thought you sang 'fuck the skinny bastards in the club, I wanna see the big, fat bastards'. Now you want me to lose my cushioning?"

She giggled and opened the passenger door. "Oh, no. Dean would be devastated if you lost your love handles."

That got a chuckle out of me. She was more right than she realized. Not because Dean and I were that close but because he was an ass man.

My chuckle died when I exited the car and saw the hurt and accusatory look on Samantha's face.

"Why are we at your place and not mine?" She pointed at the pride's block of apartments. "That's why you distracted me with singing, isn't it? So that I wouldn't notice my surroundings until it was too late?"

"What?" What nonsense was she saying?

"Don't play innocent, Sebastian. Hell, I should have known you would do this." She hugged herself and stepped away when I moved towards her in front of the SUV. "I didn't put up a fight when you said there would be no more running for me, and now you think you can easily disregard all of my wishes."

"What wishes are you–"

"I told you I needed space!" she snapped. "Instead you bring me here where I'm supposed to what? Sleep with you? Or Dean? Or... both?"

Oh, for fuck's sake. Did she seriously think so lowly of me? Her wounded look and defensive stance said so.

I forced down a frustrated growl. I was to blame here, not Samantha. I should have told her of our change in destination instead of assume that her lack of reaction to the route I was driving on was a silent agreement. But I had gotten distracted, just like she had. And I was used to everyone following my lead without me needing to explain myself, because they trusted me to make the right call.

Samantha didn't trust me completely yet. As could be expected after what I had learned tonight. Eric might have been invited into her bed on their day one together, and Dean might have been allowed to dip his fingers in heaven on day two. But none of them reminded her of that Bruce fucker as much as I did.

To win her completely, I had to kill a ghost. Fuck me sideways.

"Darlin'," I told her as calmly as I could. "Dean is not home."

"Where is he?" She sounded as if I had disposed of my friend and buried him in the backyard.

I ran a hand through my beard to keep myself grounded. "He took the night shift at the Royal Casino. I don't know if he has told you that on some weekends we cover for two pride members employed as guards there. That way we get a break from our enforcer duties and our female pride members get to be accompanied on their weekend shopping and night out by Kirk and Simon for a change."

Samantha's tense posture eased only a fraction. "Why didn't you take the night shift?"

"Because Dean asked me to take the day one."

"Why?"

"He wanted to have a whole day with you, Samantha, not just an evening."

"And you agreed why?"

"Because he is my best friend and because I knew he'd have more luck charming you than I would."

"We're here instead of my place because you believe you've charmed me already, is that it? Enough to have your way with me tonight?"

At this point, stroking my beard was no longer capable of keeping me calm. "If I wanted to 'have my way' with you, female, I could have done so in your apartment! We'd be alone there, too."

"Oh." She finally realized she was being irrational.

Before she could think of another reason to fear my intentions, I explained. "After our talk in Kim's Kimchi, I thought you would feel safer with the door lock in Dean's bedroom. The door is reinforced, a shifter can't break it."

"Oh..."

I risked moving closer to her. She didn't back away. "I also thought that since you agreed to wear his T-shirt, his scent must be pleasant to you. Staying in his room, from which you didn't run screaming earlier, should give you a sense of familiarity and safety."

She sighed and nodded.

Stopping right beside her, I admitted, "There is indeed a secret motive for my decision to come here."

Her eyes narrowed at me.

My spitfire, suspicious to the very end. "I want to sleep in my own bed, in my crispy clean sheets. Not on some child-size couch with a panther's hairs on it."

Samantha's lips curled into a wobbly smile. "That's... reasonable."

"But if you wish to sleep in your own bed, I'll drive us to your place." I meant it. Anything to bring her smile back.

She exhaled deeply. "No. Dean's bed will do just fine."

"You sure?"

She bit her lip then covered her face with her hands. "I'm sorry I overreacted... I'm just so used to always expect the worst, to doubt everyone, that my first reaction is to lash out... I'm broken, Sebastian."

I had stopped myself at the restaurant but I couldn't now. I wrapped her in my arms and hugged my petite female to my chest. "Not broken," I whispered. "A survivor. Don't ever apologize for that, darlin'."

She tensed at my hug but didn't push me away. Still, I released her before I fucked things up yet again.

"How about some sleep now?" I suggested. "In separate beds?"

"Sounds good," she muttered and swiped at her cheeks.

Had she teared up? Fuck. Now my protectiveness was in overdrive.

But she headed for the building, clearly wishing to pretend what had just transpired hadn't happened.

"Better hurry up," she called when I didn't immediately follow her, "or I'll pee myself on your doormat."

Humor. Unlike with tears, I knew how to deal with jokes. "And thus mark my home as yours as well? You just made me take my time with unlocking, darlin'.

She giggled.

Good. Our date night wasn't ending on a sad note. Quite the opposite: I had the feeling that things had changed between us for the better.

When after we wished each other goodnight she didn't lock Dean's door behind her, my feeling was confirmed.

I might not have to kill a ghost after all.