Page 52 of Gage (Love Under the Lights 1)

Her gaze darted over to the Rolls and filled with speculation. “Maybe you should return the Mini, and I’ll drive that instead.”

Although I owned four other cars, I hardly ever used them since I got the Rolls-Royce Phantom Drophead because it was my favorite. I’d special ordered it from the dealership, and nobody but me had ever driven it. The fact that I was even considering letting Morgan get behind the wheel of my baby said a fuck of a lot about the depth of my feelings for her. But that didn’t mean I was going to make it easy on her just because she was uncomfortable with the idea of me buying a car for her to drive. “If that’s what you want . . . but you do realize the Mini was under forty grand, and the Rolls cost about ten times that when I bought it six months ago.”

“You have a four-hundred-thousand-dollar car?” she gasped, shaking her head.

“This is Hollywood,” I reminded her. “My Rolls was cheap compared to the Bugatti Tom Cruise owns or the Hennessey Steven Tyler dropped more than a cool million on.”

“Yeah, but I’m not dating one of them.” She pointed at the Rolls. “And now that I know how much your Rolls costs, there’s no way I’m driving it.”

I flashed her a smug grin. “Then I guess it’s a good thing I got you the Mini. Now you don’t have to. Problem solved.”

“Or I could just rent a car,” she argued. “My insurance will cover it and everything, so you really didn’t need to buy me one.”

“It’s not a big deal, beautiful. You’re used to driving a Mini, and there’s one right here for you to use.”

She bit her bottom lip and looked back at the cherry red car again. “I don’t know. It doesn’t seem right, letting you do something like this for me.”

I yanked her against my chest. “We already established that I’m your boyfriend last night, right?”

“Yeah, which you very well know because the whole world is talking about it.” She wrapped her arms around my waist. “You were with me all day and heard how many times I was asked about our relationship. I tossed the B word around like confetti during my interviews.”

She wasn’t exaggerating. If the number of times the words “boyfriend” and “girlfriend” had come up in conversation today had been a drinking game, we would’ve been drunk off our asses and in the hospital having our stomachs pumped. “I might be new to this whole relationship thing, but as far as I’m aware, boyfriends are allowed to buy gifts for their girlfriends.”

“A brand new car isn’t a gift. It’s—it’s—” she sputtered. “I don’t even know what it is! But it’s way too expensive to be an appropriate gift for me to accept.”

“According to my accountant, I make an average of five hundred thousand dollars a day.” I chuckled when her jaw dropped open and used my index finger to push it closed. “The cost of the Mini barely made a dent in what I earned while hanging out with you today.”

“Well, crap,” she laughed. “I guess when you put it that way, you buying me a car is about the same as a regular guy taking his girlfriend out to dinner.”

“It’s exactly the same,” I agreed, letting go of her to lean into the car and snag the keys from the cup holder. Pressing them into her palm, I added, “Except that I reserve the right to feed you dinner, too. I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”

Her stomach chose that moment to growl, making us both laugh. I picked up her bag while she shut and locked the Mini. Then I led her inside, making a quick pit stop in my room to drop her bag off before heading into the kitchen. Pulling the fridge door open, I turned to where she was sitting on a stool at the counter and asked, “What’re you in the mood for? I’ve got tequila lime chicken breast with fire roasted vegetables and wild rice, spinach and fontina stuffed chicken breasts with red potatoes and vegetable medley, and grilled salmon with green beans and sun-dried tomato and spinach farro.”

She whistled. “That’s one heck of a selection for a guy who wasn’t even supposed to be in town.”

“Shawn arranged for the chef service I use to restock the kitchen with plenty of options for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I prefer having them deliver meals that I can reheat versus having a chef come in each day,” I explained. “The guy who owns the place is damn good at what he does. He hasn’t sent over anything I didn’t like, and I’ve been using him for more than two years now. But if none of the dinner stuff sound good, we can pick from the lunches or just order in.”

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