Page 94 of Summer People
Fisher chuckles. “Nah, just yours.”
I pull my arm back and hit him in the shoulder.
“I’m kidding, I’m kidding. It’s aimed at the side of the house, but if you don’t close the blinds…” He waggles his brows.
I hit him again. We’re both laughing when we reach the parking lot. There are about a dozen cars here. Halfway across the lot, he releases my hand and pulls a fob from his pocket. When he taps it, the lights of a hunter green Range Rover in the back flash.
Though he continues on, I stop and turn in a slow circle, looking for the parking lot attendant.
“What are you doing?” he asks as he holds the door open.
“Isn’t there someone you need to talk to?”
“Talk to?”
“Ya know, to pay? Or to tell them you’re taking the car?”
Fisher frowns. “You want me to report to a stranger that I’m taking my own car?”
Well, when he says it like that… “Fine, but isn’t there an attendant? How do all these people pay?” I ask, scanning the other cars.
“There’s a box over there. We put ten bucks into an envelope, write our license plate number on the outside, and drop it through the slot.” When I still don’t move, he sighs and tosses the bags in the back seat. “What?”
I shake my head. “People in Maine must be so much nicer than people in LA.”
With a shake of his head, he snags my arm and guides me to the passenger door. He hovers until I’m buckled, one brow cocked. “Maybe, Princess. Though I’m pretty fond of this one girl from LA.”
“Yeah?” I beam up at him.
Smirking, he bends down to kiss me. “Yeah.”
“Explain this to me again,” I ask an hour later as we’re hitting Boston traffic. “You won a bet by hacking into the Revs’ firewall, and your prize was tickets to tonight’s game?”
Fisher nods. “That about sums it up.”
I shake my head. And people say Hollywood is strange.
“Want to go to my apartment first and drop off our stuff, or should we grab an early dinner before the game?”
“Let’s go to the game.” I lace my fingers in my lap. “Once I get you alone in your apartment, I probably won’t want to leave.”
His brows lift, along with one side of his mouth. “I wouldn’t mind that, Princess.”
Warmth pools in my belly at the thought. “It’s been a long time since I went to a baseball game. And you love the Revs.”
He hums, not taking his eyes off the traffic. “How do you know that?”
“You wear a Revs hat just about every day.”
“I like you more.” He winks at me as he presses on the gas. “I could wear you on my cock instead.”
Head dropped back, I cackle, and the rest of my nerves fall away.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
fisher
As I putthe Range Rover in park in the VIP lot at Lang Field, Libby pulls a pink quarter zip over her head. I’m not sure which of the ten packages that came yesterday contained the Boston Revs gear or how she knew that the pink puffin design was an option, but Libby’s shopping talents are astounding.
