Page 81 of Wicked Devotion
“Who’s Dom? Are we going somewhere?”
The guys ignore me and gather their stuff, so I do the same. Asking for the fourth time still doesn’t get me an answer and only causes Logan to push me out of the bedroom right into the arms of a grinning Ruby.
The designer duffle bag she’s holding out to me probably costs as much than I make in a month.
“No,” I argue. “I can’t.”
“So you want to hurt my feelings by not accepting my gift?”
“Well played,” I mumble. "Thank you."
She forces the bag into my hands, and Max immediately takes it from me. The doorbell rings, preventing any further discussion from my side.
Ruby tells me to have fun, and the way she winks at me makes me wonder what I’ve gotten myself into. But I guess that’s the new Lily. Who dives headfirst into potentially life-threatening situations with two men she met not even a month ago. Not to mention that one of them still makes me feel like he’s actively fighting the urge to gut me in my sleep. Max wouldn’t let him, but still.
Outside, someone honks, and Ruby sighs while we walk out to the driveway.
“At least get out of the damn car, Dominic, I’ve got to introduce you to someone.”
The driver’s door opens, and the man takes his baseballcap off before he comes over to shake my hand, a bright smile on his face.
“Please call me Dom,” he says. “Dominic is reserved formom. I'm Ruby's--"
“Assistant. And if you call memomone more time, you can return the car right away,” Ruby says sternly.
“See, just like my actual mom.” Dom sighs, walking back to the car blocking the driveway as if he wants to make sure Ruby doesn’t try to take it from him for real.
The engine is running, and although I don’t know an awful lot about cars, I know that this one is expensive. Fifty tax brackets over mine-expensive. Blacked-out windows and headlights match the paint job, and Max’s eyes grow wide as Dom opens the trunk.
“Damn,” he mumbles, and Ruby groans.
“Got it at an auction, the interior is—“
“The highlight of the car,” Dom finishes the sentence for her.
“Depends on who you ask.”
When Dom opens the rear door, I understand what she’s talking about.
“Love it.” Max high-fives Dom while Logan shakes his head.
“Looks like a smurf threw up in there,” he says dryly, which earns him a thankful nod from Ruby.
“Says the one with no taste,” Max says.
“Obviously. How else would I have ended up with you? Now get in the car, Polly Pocket.”
I stick to Ruby to avoid being dragged into this discussion. After we’ve all hugged each other goodbye, Dom leaves the property with screeching tires, much to Max’s delight.
Logan picked the passenger seat, and I usually wouldn’t mind sitting next to Max, but as the drive goes on, I think a different seating arrangement would have been better. Becausewith Max in the back, it’s impossible to block him and Dom out as they talk shop about headlights, ambient lights, and rims. By the time they start arguing about the best engine for an S-class, Logan clears his throat.
“Headphones,” he demands, holding his hand out to Max, who reaches for his backpack. “It’s a mystery to me how you guys get laid.”
After the little fallout Logan and I had, I began observing him like I’m David Attenborough. If Logan refuses to talk about anything more substantial than dinner choices or the way he likes to get head, I’m going to take the scientific route, and study the behaviors and characteristics of the confusing life form that is Logan Cabrera.
So far, I’ve concluded that he likes to be in charge. To be fair, I realized that the first day I met him, but it’s just now that I understand how much he needs to be in control.
He barks out commands and always has to have the last word. It makes him nervous when things don’t go his way, and I know it’s bad when he starts tapping his fingers. Thumb to pinky, to index, to middle, to pointer. Over and over.
