Page 8 of Claiming Atlas

She laughs, and I look back up into her eyes. She steps over to me and slides my shades down my nose to look me in the eyes. “You’re cute, Atlas, but this was a one-time thing.”

“What?” I sound like I’m twelve the way my voice cracks on the word. Hell, she just made mefeellike I’m twelve.Cute?

“Honey, I’m old enough to be yourmother.” She winks, then places a soft kiss on my lips and turns back to the Benz. “It was fun, but I’m not your Mrs. Robinson.”

Fun? It was anappetizer. The main course was supposed to come next. At her place. Or mine. Who really gives a fuck where?

And who’s Mrs. Robinson?

She glances back over her shoulder. “Actually, what are you doing Saturday night?”

I’m sure my sexual frustration is written all over my face, so I try to play it cool. “I’ll have to check my calendar.”

She smirks and inclines her head. “See that you do.” She starts to climb in—

“Wait! I never got your name!” My last ditch effort to keep her talking sounds just as pathetic out loud as it did in my head.

She looks back over her shoulder once more, smiling as she climbs into her car. “And you never will.”

Gerard closes the door, and she’s hidden behind tinted glass as black as night. He shrugs as he steps around the car. “Have a good night.”

Fuck off, Gerard.

I sigh as they pull away into airport traffic. “Well, shit. That’s a first.”

Red laughs and I shoot him a glare.

I tighten my hoodie around my head and pull out my cell phone to check my texts. “Did you order a car, or were you too busy watching me flail like a fucking idiot?”

“You mean, you’re not going with her?”

I look up at Red and shake my head. “You do know I pay your salary, right?”

Red laughs, then waves as a black Escalade pulls up to the curb. “Is that what you’re calling it? A salary?”

Red takes our bags around to the back, so I climb into the back seat and dial Chris. He wanted me to check in as soon as we landed. Can’t a guy take off for a few days without the whole world wondering if he’s having a mental breakdown?

He answers on the second ring, even though it’s two in the morning where they are. “Atlas,” he says, the word muffled like he’s got his face smashed into the pillow. “You good, bro?”

“Yeah, man.” I pause as Red climbs into the front seat. “I just met the hottest woman alive.”

Red snorts.

“Nah, man,” Chris says. “That’s impossible. I’m lying next to her right now.”

“Hi, Atlas,” Trinity whispers into the phone.

The driver and Red both turn around to look at me. “What?”

Red grimaces. “What hotel?”

Why does everyone hate my favorite place? “Hard Rock,” I say, then raise my eyebrows at Red.

Chris groans into the phone. “Bro, there are so many legit hotels out there, and you’re still stuck on the Rock.”

I laugh. “Memories, you know?”

“Yeah. And the titty bar across the street.”

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