Page 13 of Beyond Question

She rolls her eyes. “Don’t make it about you, Travis. Maybe someone is waiting for me.”

I shrug. “Yeah. Maybe.”

In the front seat, the driver turns his music down and says over his shoulder, “Lady, am I still taking you to One-Five-Nine—”

“No, no,” Paige says quickly, cutting off what I’m guessing is her home address. She side-eyes me before leaning forward. “No, thank you, plans have changed.” She sighs and sits back, looking at me with a hint of frustration pursing her lips.

I slowly lift my brows. “Your plans have changed?”

Her shoulders rise and fall on a deep breath and she shakes her head in annoyance. I’m just not sure which one of us she’s more annoyed with: Me, for being the charming, delightful bastard I am, or herself, for giving into said charming bastard.

“Where are we headed?” the driver asks somewhat impatiently.

I motion toward the front seat and she gives me permission to proceed with the flick of her wrist and another annoyed huff, so I lean forward and give the driver an address downtown. Settling back in my seat, I don’t bother hiding the smile pulling at my lips.

“Oh, don’t look so smug. I’m just hungry.”

I lift my hands in surrender, but continue watching her until she looks away.

When we arrive at our destination, I reach into the front and hand the driver the wad of cash I promised him, then exit the cab and hurry over to open Paige’s door, but she’s already halfway out of the vehicle.

She drops her gaze to my extended hand and shakes her head. “No.”

My eyebrows creep up my forehead. “No?”

She shakes her head again.

O-kay. So we’ll addhelping her out of a carto the list ofantiquated idealsshe’s not a fan of. Noted.

I slip my hands into my pockets while I wait for her to close the door, and when the cab pulls away from the curb, my heart sinks as I take in her frown. “What’s wrong?’

With one eyebrow raised, she waits for a couple to pass, then motions toward them as they enter the building. “I don’t evenownclothes for a place like this, and I’m certainly not wearing anything appropriate right now.”

I swivel my head to look at the couple before they disappear into the restaurant. The woman is dressed in a sleek, black slip dress with four-inch Valentino heels, and the man is in a tailored three-piece suit. Kiton, I think. Possibly Zegna.

Not that it matters, because Paige has a point. In black slacks, a simple white top, and bright red flats, she definitely doesn’t look like the usual clientele.

But really, neither do I tonight.

Looking back at Paige and holding my arms out to my sides, I showcase my own outfit. In dark jeans and a black dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, my tie and jacket long-forgotten at Cabot’s, I’m certainly not up to par with the dress code myself. “I’m not exactly dressed for this place either.” I shrug, then flash my smile. “But it doesn’t matter. I’m a member.”

The slow rise and fall of her shoulders and the glint of disappointment in her eyes tells me that was the absolute worst thing to say.

“Look, Travis,” she says as she glances up the street, “I appreciate what you’re doing—”

“Oh no you don’t.” I hurry to stand in front of her and grip her shoulders as I look into her eyes. “Give me another chance.”

She sighs, but there’s a hint of something in her eyes that looks a lot like acquiescence.

I rub my hands up and down her upper arms because, honestly, I’ve wanted to touch this exposed skin all damn day.

It’s just as velvety soft as I imagined.

Focus, Travis.

“If you hate the next place,” I tell her, “you can tell me to kick rocks and I’ll never bother you again.”

“Promise?”

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