Page 10 of A Daddy for Christmas 2: Kitt

“Riordan. My friends call me Rio.”

“Well, I won’t, because we’re not friends and we never will be.”

“Aw…well, you never know. Friends come and go, just like waves on the ocean… Maybe you’ll stick around. Kind of like an octopus stuck to my face.”

I smirked. “Oh, he has jokes…”

He smiled at me, and a few of my brain cells fainted. God, he really was sinfully handsome. I was pretty sure I hated him, though. Almost positive.

“Anyway, when do we leave for Atlanta?” I asked. “Are we going in your car?”

“We’ll leave in the morning. It’s too late tonight.” He glanced over at me. “Go get a shower and get ready for bed. You look tired.”

“Gee thanks. But I don’t have any clothes or anything to ‘get ready’ with, remember?” I glanced over at the only bed in the room. “And just where am I supposed to sleep anyway?”

“In the bed is the usual place.”

“With you?” I snorted, “Ha! Not hardly.”

“You’ll do as you’re told, Kitt. You offered me a blow job earlier. So, sleeping with me should be a breeze. Besides, it’s a king-sized bed, for God’s sake, and it’s huge.”

“Yeah, well, so are you.”

“Put pillows between us if you’re worried.”

“No, I want my own room.”

“You’re not getting it. In fact, I don’t think you’re really understanding any of this, are you? You’ll be with me until we land in Atlanta and make it to your brother’s house. Then I can officially deliver you into his custody, and we can both breathe a huge sigh of relief and go our own separate ways. In the meantime, suck it up.”

I gave him the meanest look I could muster. “Did you say, ‘land in Atlanta?’ As in you think we’re going to fly there? Oh, hell no, I don’t fly. My brother must have told you.”

“What do you mean, you don’t fly? What are you—Rainman or something?”

I sneered at him. “I know that’s an old movie you’re referencing, but I don’t get it. Didn’t he count cards or something? Did he hate to fly too? How old are you anyway?”

“Never mind. But you’re getting on that fucking plane.”

“Read my lips. I. Do. Not. Fly. Period!”

“Bullshit. You do now.”

“It’s not bullshit. I have a phobia against flying that I’ve had for years. Ever since…well, never mind, but I have one. My brother should have told you. And I’m not getting on an airplane.”

“Stop being a pain in the ass. I’m not driving God knows how many hours back to Atlanta, so you need to just get over yourself.”

I glared at him, trying to have a stare-down contest with him, but he wasn’t playing. He rolled his eyes and turned away, so I changed the subject. For now, anyway.

“What about my things? My bag? I left it all at the last place I crashed. I can go over there and pick it up real quick, though. No problem. Won’t take me but a few minutes.”

“Uh huh. Nice try. But no.”

“Well, what am I supposed to do about my bag?”

He sighed. “I guess we’ll have to go get it, if it’s that important. You say it’s only a few minutes away?”

“Um… That might have been a slight exaggeration.”

“How slight?”

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