Page 12 of Just This Once

“Oh, good Lord.” I rolled my eyes and huffed out a breath as I removed the last bag from the claim. “You really need to find a charity to donate some of that money to, you know.”

Since becoming a millionaire when he was twelve, due to the automobile company paying him off for an electronic malfunction that had caused his parents’ accident, Parker had probably doubled his net worth four times over or more. He was wicked smart with stocks and bonds—or whatever money-making venture he meddled in. Maybe he was some kind of broker. I really didn’t know. Nor did I care. All those financial games went right over my head; I just knew he had more money than he knew what to do with.

Sending me a dry glance, he answered, “Trust me, Thane gives me a list of charities to help outfrequently.”

“Sounds like Thane,” I said, taking in all the luggage surrounding us with my hands on my hips. “So what do we have to work with, then? Some flashy, cherry red two-seater?”

“It’s aburgundy, four-door Lucid Air,” he retorted, seemingly pleased that I was wrong about something, only to frown at my bags. “Are you just visiting or fucking moving back to town?”

Refusing to answer that, I wrinkled my nose. “What the hell’s a Lucid Air?”

He arched a single eyebrow. “I guess you’ll find out.” Then his scowl returned as he glanced around the airport. “We need one of those luggage cart things.”

“I’ll get one,” I answered readily and hurried off before he could return to the subject of how long I planned to stick around Westport.

“Hey!” he barked, clearly not wanting to stay put and play babysitter to my things.

But I waved over my shoulder, promising, “I’ll be right back.”

“Hope—”

I ignored him as I scampered away.

Five minutes later, I returned with a smile as I pushed my cart toward the scowling man with his arms crossed over his chest and his foot tapping.

“Thanks for watching my stuff,” I told him cheerfully as I paused next to him.

He narrowed his eyes as I reached for the largest piece of luggage.

“Your phone rang.”

I blinked, not realizing I’d left my purse with him as well. Whoops.

“It was Paul.”

I glanced up in surprise, wishing he hadn’t dug into my personal belongings to check the caller ID. What the hell else had he snooped through?

“Did you answer?” I asked slowly, holding my breath and praying.

He lifted curious eyebrows. “Was I supposed to?”

I exhaled, assured that meant he’d left well enough alone. And I went back to loading the cart.

“Who’s Paul?” he pressed, not moving a finger to help.

“Why do you care?” I challenged, glancing over with lifted eyebrows.

“Good point.” He shrugged one shoulder, proving he didn’t give a shit as he glanced away in boredom. “You about ready yet?”

Gritting my teeth through an oomph as I slung the last of my load onto the cart, I blew a stray curl out of my eyes and answered breathlessly, “Yep. And might I add, thank yousomuch for the hand.”

Arms still folded over his chest, he sent me a dry frown. “I said I’d pick you up from the airport, not carry your shit all over kingdom come.” Turning, he added, “I’m parked this way.”

“Great,” I countered, mean-mugging his back as he strode off. “Lead the way.”

Letting me push my own cart, he snapped his fingers and added, “Keep up, Langston.”

I huffed, only to get distracted by his ass in those jeans. Because damn, boy. He was like a crime against nature, I swear. Bitter, angry men shouldnotbe allowed to look so fine.

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