Page 65 of Plus Size Player

“I was going to say a rolling stone, but I mean…” I gestured at him with my hands. “If the shoe fits. I don’t know what you do in these other cities!”

He let out a chuckle. “Wow, Nina! Why the hell would you think that?”

“You like to go out and have a good time—”

“So do you!”

Exactly.

“We have fun together. That has always been our thing,” I explained. “We enjoy life. We like to be out and about. And you’re always on the move, so I assume you keep the fun going when I’m not around.”

“Nina,” he started, picking up speed to go around a truck. “It’s not even like that.”

“Okay, my bad, Bubba Wallace,” I joked as I tugged at my seatbelt.

His amusement burst out of him as a deep rumble. The way his laugh filled the car simultaneously filled me. Warmth spread through my veins as the sound ricocheted around the car.

“I had to get around them,” he explained. “You know I got you. There’s nothing for you to worry about.”

“I didn’t say I was worried. I was just acknowledging that the speed limit isn’t ninety-five.”

“Yeah, aight. What does your little article say about you being an only child?”

“Don’t try to change the subject, Speed Racer.” I picked up my phone and scrolled down. “It says lonely, spoiled, high sense of independence, poor social skills, high achievers, and highly sensitive to criticism,” I read. Looking over at him, I shrugged. “Three out of six are true.”

“I can probably guess the three.” He counted them off with his hand. “High achiever, sense of independence, and spoiled.”

I smirked. “Correct. How did you guess?”

“From the way you carry yourself, I know you’re not lonely. Seeing the way you worked the room when we first met, I know you have social skills. I don’t know if you’re highly sensitive to criticism because I haven’t had any complaints.” He glanced over at me. “So, there’s no criticism here.”

I bit my lip to keep from grinning. “Good to know.”

“So spoiled had to be the last one.”

I propped my elbow on the middle console and rested my chin on my fist. “Let’s talk about how and why you think I’m spoiled.”

“Am I wrong?”

Trying not to look as amused as I was, I narrowed my eyes. “That’s not the point. What’s your definition of spoiled?”

“There are a few different definitions, but with you… I can tell that you’re used to getting your way; you’re used to getting what you want.”

My jaw dropped and I reacted indignantly. “What? Whatchumean?”

“It’s not a bad thing. It’s clear you’ve been taken care of and there’s nothing wrong with that. You know what you want, and you go for it. There’s a confidence that comes with that, and it’s sexy as hell.” He slowed the car as we approached standstill traffic. “So, who spoiled you?”

“My parents. There’s nothing my dad wouldn’t give me. There’s nothing my mom wouldn’t do for me.” Thinking about my parents, I smiled. “They really are the best. I’m blessed.”

“You never really heard the word no, did you?”

I shook my head profusely. “I’ve heard no so many times in my life! I wasn’t the ‘I can always get my way’ type of spoiled. I was spoiled with love, attention, and generosity. My parents always made sure I was good. They still do. They poured into me so that I could grow up and pour into myself. So, when dating, I know what I want, what I need, and I only allow men who pour into me into my life.”

“I see the way you are with people. The way you pour, I can see why you want it reciprocated.”

A smile tugged at my lips as I reflected on his observation.

“That’s exactly what I’m talking about,” I replied. “Reciprocity. I don’t ask for anything I can’t give.”

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