Page 24 of Best Kept Secret
“Where are you?” he asks again, slightly less growly.
I look around, finding Fran texting on her phone while Vera practically dry humps her boyfriend. And, if I’m being honest, this scene isn’t really me at all. So, with a sigh, I say, “I’m at a club with Fran and her friend.”
“Vera?”
“Yeah.”
“Her boyfriend DJing?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll be there in twelve minutes,” he gruffs.
I scoff. “Yeah, right,okay.”
“Millie, I’m not fucking playing,” he snaps. “I want you waiting outside next to the bouncers in eleven fucking minutes, or I will come in there, throw you over my shoulder and carry your drunk ass out. You wanna test me, babe?”
I snap my mouth shut, shocked and surprisingly turned on by his bossiness, forced to cross my legs in some sad attempt to quell the sudden neediness that’s blossomed between them. When the phone goes silent, I look down to see the call is dead, and my jaw falls open.
That asshole hung up on me.
CHAPTER 11
LOGAN
As I turn onto Bowery and slow to a roll, my eyes are peeled as I scan the crowds huddled outside the clubs and bars that line both sides of the street. When I spot a familiar redhead, entirely underdressed for a late February night in New York City wearing nothing but a pair of knee-high cowboy boots and a flannel shirt posing as a dress under an oversized jean jacket, annoyance curls low in my stomach because yes, she looks hot as hell with those sexy ass thighs on display, but they’re predicting snow tonight and she’s not wearing any fucking pants.
“Fuck me,” I mutter, unfastening my seatbelt and hopping out of my car with a huff.
“That’s a no standing zone, pal,” one of the bouncers says, pointing at my idling Porsche.
Tow me. Ignoring him, my jaw is set tight as I focus wholeheartedly on Millie. As if she can feel my intense gaze on her, she looks up from her phone, big green eyes flaring the second she sees me. And, without a word, I grab her wrist, firm yet gentle, and walk her back to my car.
Yanking open the passenger door, I wait.
With her chin held high, she just stands there. Stubborn ass. “Get in the car, Millie.”
She blinks at me, as if she’s waiting for something.
She cannot be serious. “Please,” I grit.
It’s only then she hops into the car with a satisfied smirk playing on her lips. I try not to stare at her thighs as the sorry excuse for a dress she’s wearing climbs even higher. Glancing sideways, I spot a group of guys vaping on the sidewalk, a few of them watching on with keen interest, and I take a step to the left so that I’m blocking their view of a potential crotch shot.
Millie looks up at me.
I arch a brow. “Seatbelt.”
Rolling her eyes, she tugs the belt over her shoulder, and it isn’t until I hear the telltale click that I slam the door shut and round the hood, glancing back at the group of guys with a warning glare before getting into my car.
“How did you even know I was out?”
I can’t look at her. I’m too busy watching the road and trying to avoid drunk pedestrians as I turn onto Houston, but I can feel her eyes on me.
“I was at your place.”
“My place?”
“Dallas’s.”
