Alien Knight Blind Date Disaster

Hands on her hips, she turned her attention to him as he dug into his pants pocket for the odd key that had come with the primitive vehicle the dating guru had insisted upon. “You owe me a phone.”
Rather than argue, he pulled the small black device from his pocket and stopped next to the vehicle. The Porsche had been delivered to the Caldorian base just two days ago, and Vander and Cassiel had taken great pleasure in experimenting with the archaic Earth technology. As for Falden, he disliked the vehicle immensely. It smelled of burning oil, and traveling within proved to be both slow and jerky, leaving occupants at the whims of gravity during sharp turns and acceleration. He much preferred the Caldorian ships. They were fast and maneuverable. The fact that Vander had spent the entire trip to the restaurant making sure Falden was thrown side to side in the passenger seat had not improved his opinion. Cassiel and Gareth had followed close behind in their own ridiculous Earth vehicle, insisting they must also look legit.
“You have the keys?” Isabella asked, her tone urgent.
Falden turned to find Isabella next to him, staring at his hand. “Yes, if this black device is what you are referencing.”
“Yes,” she said, fidgeting in agitation. “What are you waiting for? Let’s go.” Isabella ran to the passenger side of the car, opened her door and disappeared inside. With no other option, Falden opened the driver’s door and took a seat, grateful that Vander was nearly identical in height to himself. Closing the door, he looked at the controls. The wheel that Vander had turned to guide the vehicle. The oddly shaped stick in the center with numbers on it.
“Well?” she asked, her eyebrows raised in question.
Shit.

Chapter Four
Isabella couldn't believe her luck. An attack? While she was with the aliens? Her wingman, Jessica, had been right as usual. The other two hot men had turned out to be aliens as well, and obviously all three of them had come together. Not one, but three. Icing on the cake.
And they had called Falden Commander. Not Communications Officer. Not buddy or hey, you. Commander. Isabella took a moment to stew. The commander had ordered her a Scotch and a damn spinach salad? Hadn’t even asked what she wanted. Jerk.
And while she was on the subject—commander of what? The whole base? A fleet of Star Destroyers? Was he Sevron’s replacement? Was he here to explain to her what had happened to the stone-silent alien she’d begun to consider a friend? And who had been attacking them? And why had they wanted Falden specifically? He had to be someone really important, someone who had answers, and she was not leaving his side until she knew everything.
Everything.
Isabella hunkered down, sinking low in the bucket seat, subconsciously digging her proverbial heels in. Her hands gripped the side of the seat. She could be stubborn when she wanted something, and she wanted answers. Besides, she’d never been in a car like this. It was the GT model. The car was fire-engine red and wicked fast and she knew it could reach over two hundred miles per hour.
Assuming she didn’t get stuck here. Damn it. She wasn’t worried about Jessica. Those two hotties would take care of her for sure. And Jessica wasn’t exactly a shrinking violet. She was probably having the time of her life right now.
Looking out the window, she could see the flashing lights coming down the back streets. They were close. Maybe three blocks away with more most likely headed their way from the front. All she needed was to be trapped in the parking lot when the police arrived. They’d run her ID, find out she had a concealed carry permit, and then she’d lose hours while they interviewed her, cataloged her firearm, took it to the lab. If she was here when the police arrived, she’d never get out with her alien commander. Never figure out the truth about what was going on at the Caldorian base. He would leave, and she’d be stuck trying to figure out how to get date number two with the most inconsiderate asshole ever to walk the Earth. “Falden? Let’s go! Drive it like you stole it! The cops are almost here!”
She turned away from the window to find him staring at the controls like he was inside an alien craft. “Falden? You do know how to drive, right?”
His gaze shifted to hers in the dark, and she could have sworn she saw shame in his eyes. Embarrassment? The alien commander was embarrassed? And he didn’t know how to drive his own car?
“You own a Porsche, but you don’t know how to drive it?”
His silence was all the answer she needed. Of course he didn’t. “Don’t tell me, your other car is a spaceship?”
“This is an archaic and outdated vehicle.” His glare, directed at the dashboard like he held a personal grudge, told her everything she needed to know. “It is also slow.”
Slow? She’d show him slow. She’d always wanted to drive one of these things.
“Get out. Get out now. I’m driving.” Not waiting for his response, she opened her door and ran around the car. She reached the driver’s side just as he opened his own door to unwind his tall, powerful frame from the small vehicle to tower over her. She hadn’t thought this out. He was close. Too close.
Staring up at him, stuttering in front of him, she knew she needed to get out of his way, but her body seemed to be paralyzed from the brain down. No one home but hormones, and they weren’t interested in moving. Not. One. Bit.
“Uh, I, ummm, need the key?” She held out her hand, and he placed the key fob in her palm without breaking eye contact.
“There is no key, only this black rectangle with buttons. And you will speak of this to no one.”
Ah, the big, bad commander was embarrassed. “Sure, hotshot. Your secrets are safe