Page 13 of The Billionaire's Kiss
Chapter Six
Orla
When I met Warner in the lobby, he held out his cell phone to me. “Here, put down your cell number in my contacts.”
I took his phone and tapped in my number, then handed it back to him. “Okay. If I get lost while we’re out, then all I have to do is call you.”
“I’ve got something even better than that.” He texted me, and I looked at the message. It said for me to share my location with him. So I did. “Now what?”
“I’ll do the same for you.” He tapped away on the phone screen then gave me a nod. “We’re good to go. This way, if you can’t find me, all you’ve got to do is look at my location. And I can do the same with you. It’s very crowded down there, so getting separated can happen pretty easily.”
Holding out my hand, I had an even better idea. “Or we can just hold hands so that it doesn’t happen at all.”
Taking my hand, he grinned and led me out the front door. “Yeah, this will work too.”
The valet opened the door of a tall, black truck for me as we approached it. “This is quite the automobile, Warner.”
He helped me up. “Step on the running board to make it easier for you to get in.”
“Is the height really necessary?” I had to ask, as I had no idea why anyone would want to drive something so high off the ground.
“Necessary?” he asked. “No. But it makes driving way cooler.”
After closing my door, he went around and got into the driver’s seat. “Like everything else in Texas, we like our trucks bigger than normal ones.”
“And you have no issue with driving on the wrong side of the car?” As he took off, I hurried to put on my seatbelt. The road seemed so far below me.
“It’s not the wrong side to me.” He sped up as we pulled into traffic.
Gasping, I looked at him with wide eyes. “So, you’re a speedy driver, then?”
“You’ve got to use some speed to cut into traffic, Orla.” He laughed as he swept around the road, weaving through cars that were much smaller and shorter than his. “Don’t tell me you like driving like a grandma.”
“I like living through the trip,” I informed him. “Driving a bit slower than the other cars has served me well.”
“Driving slow in any of America’s big cities will get you run off the road. We’re rather aggressive drivers here.”
“I can see that.” Looking up, I found a bar above the door, and instinctively grabbed it.
“You’ve already found the ‘oh shit’ bar,” he said with a quirky grin.
“The what?” I had no idea if I’d heard him right. “It sounded like you said the ‘oh shit’ bar.”
“Yeah,” he said with a nod. “You know, you only grab it when you’re thinking, ‘oh, shit!’ And then, you hold on for dear life.”
“Iwasthinking that.” I laughed a bit, even though I was terror-stricken.
“Maybe some music will help take your mind off driving.” He turned on the radio, and some twangy-sounding man sang about someone leaving him and how whiskey had taken her place. “That’s a rather sad song.”
“It’s in the top ten this week.” Taking an exit, he veered off the highway, much to my relief.
But that relief was soon gone as we found tons of cars on this road speeding along too. “My goodness. This city moves fast, doesn’t it?”
“Very.” He took another turn and then pulled up underneath a bridge, where lots of other cars and trucks were parked. “This is it. We walk from here.”
“You can’t drive down this street?”
“Not all the way down. Not at night, anyway. They close it off because there’re just way too many people walking around from club to club. You’ll see. Come on.”
