Theft

Carson slams his fist onto the dashboard as Misty walks away. Letting out a frustrated groan, he rests his forehead on the steering wheel, his hands shaking from the nervous wreck he was beginning to be. “Dang it, Misty!” he yells.

Pulling the keys from the ignition, he gets out of the car and slams the door, making long strides to catch up to Misty.

Grabbing her by the arm, he yanks her back to the car, spinning her around, and giving her a light push so she backs into the hood. Taking her hand, he slaps the keys into her palm and shuts her fingers over them.

“The last thing I need on my record is car theft,” he hisses. “Now you get in that car and turn around and go back home.” He points up the highway. “Get your hind end out of this mess before you get us both killed, do you understand me?”