Page 15 of Aim Assist

He makes me feel tiny.

Like a cute little flower next to a freaking bear.

His gaze rakes over me, lingering on my curves. Heat slides along my skin, welcoming the attraction like soil soaks in water.

Get it together, Amy! He has to be used to women drooling over him. I'm no one, just another fare. And not all men are into my kind of curves, anyway.

Then he crouches down, face splitting into a boyish grin as he looks at my dog. "Well hello there, cutie." Lucky strains at her leash, tail wagging as she coats his face with enthusiastic licks. He laughs, ruffling her soft white fur. "Aren't you the sweetest thing?"

A man who loves dogs is always a good sign, and it brings a smile to my face, half-hidden behind giant shades. It's part of my travel gear. I didn't have travel gear before today, but oversized sunglasses seem to scream vacation.

He stands, gesturing to the passenger door. "Go ahead and get settled. I'll take care of your bags."

"Oh, um, thank you." I hesitate, feeling awkward. "I'm so sorry. This is my first time using a car service. Am I supposed to tip you? I have cash..."

He flashes me a smile that's all gleaming white teeth and dimples, blinding me with his brilliance for a moment. "Don't worry about it, sweetheart. It's all taken care of."

I blink. Sweetheart? The pet name throws me off balance. It doesn't seem like the kind of thing someone who doesn't want a tip would call you. "Are you sure? I really don't mind—"

He straightens to his full height, towering over me. "I insist. Your money's no good here." His eyes hold mine, and I'm captivated again by those pretty aqua eyes. Ocean eyes, where the waves hit and churn into a lighter blue-green.

So pretty.

"Consider it a welcome gift," he says, not distracted at all, while I'm daydreaming about his face between my thighs.

Fuck.

I've got to stop.

I must be overly wired after the letdown of sex with Paul Willowdick.

"That's very kind of you, thank you." I'm not sure what else to say. This level of service is leagues beyond anything I'm used to. Am I a country bumpkin? Is this normal for people?

Lucky chooses that moment to sneeze, breaking the strange tension. The driver chuckles, giving her one last pat. "Alright, hop in. Let's get you ladies to the hotel."

I slide into the buttery leather seat, feeling entirely out of my element as he loads my fuchsia monstrosities into the trunk. Peeking in the rearview mirror, I swipe on some lip gloss and attempt to fluff my travel-flattened curls.

God, why do I care what I look like right now? He's the driver. An extremely hot driver, but still. No idea if he's married or dating. No idea what his name is. Just a dude. There's no reason to treat him like a sex object.

Get a grip, Amy. You're better than this. You hate when guys do it to you.

The door clicks shut and then he's sliding behind the wheel, the scent of his cologne wafting over me. Something crisp and clean, with a hint of spice. Delicious.

"Comfortable?" He glances back at me, lips curving.

"Very." I attempt a smile that I hope doesn't look as awkward as it feels. "I really appreciate this, Mr...?"

"Taylor. But you can call me Liam." His eyes meet mine in the mirror, crinkling at the corners. "And it's my pleasure, Ms. Sloane. I'm happy to help."

Liam

Driving a rental Tesla has cemented my desire to own one.

I'll have to buy one when I get home.

I fiddle with the touchscreen, customizing the climate control and seat warmers to my liking. Fancy stuff. I rarely give a shit about cars, but I can get used to this. It's like a toy. An oversized, expensive toy.

There are a few security officers giving my car a bit of side-eye. I'm not supposed to be parked here waiting for so long, but they haven't bothered me yet. Maybe I'm lucky. Maybe it's the Tesla. Whatever the reason, I'm glad I don't have to drive in circles until the new influencer's done with baggage claim.

---