Page 79 of Tight Spot

And it wasn’t altogether that different from the look he had on his face now.

He was going to end this soon, right after I’d realized I was falling for him, and he was going to walk away, leaving me a virgin.

Tonight was going to suck.

I dumped my wine in the sink and grabbed my clutch, double-checking to make sure my lip gloss and phone were inside. “We should go.”

Might as well get it over with.

Receive an award.

Be celebrated.

See my ex.

Get dumped.

What a fun night this was going to be.

* * *

“What is this?”

It wasn’t his Tahoe. Not any car I’d seen before.

“This is your night. Figured we should arrive in style.”

He beeped the locks on his gleaming, shining black two-door coupe with a black racing stripe down the front. It was so low to the ground I worried once I fell into it, I’d never get back out.

“You didn’t need to do this.”

“I know. Damn glad I did though seeing as how it matches your dress and those fucking shoes.”

It almost sounded like a complaint.

“What’s wrong with my shoes?”

I twisted one of my feet and glanced down. They were black. Glossy. A mid three-inch heel. It was the straps I loved most about them. They crisscrossed over the top of my feet, wrapped around the ankle, and at the back, they had a red butterfly outlined in black. The butterfly was a surprise when I saw them at Nordstrom’s, and I’d had to have them. I bought the shoes before I bought the dress but as soon as I saw that butterfly they had to be mine.

“Nothing’s wrong with ’em,” Dawson muttered. “Just every man who sees you tonight is gonna be thinking about fucking you wearing only those damn things, having those long legs wrapped around their backs and your heels digging into their ass is all.”

I almost fell right off the soles of my feet.

Dawson walked to my door, opened it, and gave me a look that said he was two point three seconds from doing the same thing. A flutter rose in my chest.

Maybe I’d been wrong about tonight.

Problem was, he still wore that same conflicted face which told me he might want to do all those things, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to.

“Right. Thanks for that,” I muttered and collapsed into my seat. The door slammed shut, rocking the small car, and I closed my eyes as my head rested against the back of the chair.

This was going to be one long, exhausting night.

* * *

The Longview Country Club, where the event was held, was the oldest and most elite country club in the area. The only one with thirty-six holes, it cost a fortune only Dawson and those who made millions like him could afford. The only time I came to this country club was on nights like this, mostly because most citywide galas and fundraisers were held here. A gorgeous turn-of-nineteenth-century mansion held the dining room and events center, and the streets were lined with fairways and greens on both sides, along with a smattering of trees.

After Dawson talked about the effect my shoes would have on men and then slumped into the car like it’d personally offended him, he went silent. Twenty minutes of driving with only Siri giving sporadic directions and the muted rock station radio and I wasn’t only a bundle of nerves for the night to come, I was seriously regretting my date choice, along with Meredith’s ridiculous bet and plan.

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