Page 30 of Flaunt
“Do you have a little thing you use to make sure your tires have enough air in them?”
He watches me like he’s not sure what to do with me—which is precisely the reaction I wanted. The fucker practically blackmailed me, pulled me into his lap and set my libido on fire, and then threw me into the pool—and then left.
While I might not be exactly mad about it, if I must be frustrated, sexually or otherwise, he does, too. Period.
“A tire pressure gauge?” he asks.
I shrug. “There’s a light on in my car about my tires. I assume that’s what it means. Anyway, I don’t have the thingy to check it.”
“You know there’s one built-in to the air pumps at gas stations, right?”
I lean forward. “No, I didn’t know that. But I’d like to check it before I go.”
He crosses his arms over his chest. “Where are you going?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“It is if you want mytire pressure thingy.”
I glare at him. He finds it amusing.
For some reason, I don’t want to tell him where I’m going. I’m not embarrassed that I’m meeting The Businessman, but the idea of telling Banks I’m meeting a guy for a quickie and then a fake fiancé proposal doesn’t make me all warm and fuzzy inside.
“Forget it,” I say, starting to stand.
“Stop.” He groans, tilting his head to the ceiling. “Just … stop.”
I lower myself back into the chair and try not to fix my gaze on his Adam’s apple. The alternative is to look at his pecs, abs, and glorious arms.Not. Helping.
“You’re really driving me nuts,” he says, dropping his chin again and looking at me.
“Why?”
He sighs. “Are you going to tell me where you’re going or not? Your tire pressure might not be good for going to the beach, but it might be okay to go to the grocery store.”
Good point. “Okay, well, I’m going to Sunnydale.”
He waits as if he expects me to expound on the topic. The longer he waits, the more irritated I get.He wants to know? Fine.
“I’m meeting a guy over there,” I say.
His head nods slowly, but his face remains passive. “The asshole ex-boss?”
“Nope. Because even I have lines I won’t cross and being engaged is one of them.”
“Who is this one?”
“What’s it to you?”
“Nothing. Just asking you a question.”
I take a deep breath. “His name is Brock.”
“What’s he do for a living?”
I snort. “I don’t know.”
He screws up his face like he’s confused.
