Page 325 of Small Town Firsts
“I thought you said you didn’t like to do everything fast. Guess that was just you being boastful.”
It was his turn to arch his brow. “Are you frightened? Don’t think you can survive a speed round, Miss Moon?”
“Oh, honey. You don’t know what I can survive.”
He snapped the locks and lifted the black leather briefcase. “I dare you to come.”
“I’m not interested.”
“Afraid you won’t procure yourself a date?”
Me and my grass stained skirt could out-date his repressed suit with my hands tied. “You really want me to show you up in front of all those people, PMS?”
He smiled. “I’m game if you are.”
TWELVE
How I foundmyself in his car and not walking back to my own damn apartment, I really didn’t know. Pretty sure it was the red haze of annoyance and jealousy that put my ass in his beige car.
Beige. So him and yet so not.
The energy and colors vibrated out of him when our lips locked, but then like a switch, his aura became the equivalent of flat ecru wall paint. I wasn’t sure how he did it. Were his shields that good?
Did he even know he had them?
Why did I care?
I tapped my fingers on my thigh to the music playing on low. It was some watery, mid-tempo type song that I would listen to while I was sketching. Not exactly the stuff I’d listen to in the car. The car was for loud music—pop, singalong hair metal, classic rock—anything but sleepy chill out stuff.
Then again, he was driving a Grandpa car.
Why was this the guy who got my libido to sit up and take notice? Was it just because I’d been in a drought? Not on purpose or anything. I just had been happily in my own lane for work and enjoying spending time with friends instead of looking for someone to get horizontal with.
“So, how much is this going to cost me?”
“I’ll cover your entry fee.”
“I can handle my own finances, thanks.”
His lips twitched. “Two hundred.”
“What? Are we meeting billionaires or something?”
“For two hundred dollars?”
“Fair.” I crossed my arms. I could afford it, but damn, that was steep. “I suppose that gets rid of the players.”
“One would think.”
Then again, he’d had his lips on mine a short time before he put himself out there for the next twenty or so eligible bachelorettes. Guys were pigs. Even the supposed good ones.
I’d learned that growing up with a free spirit for a mother. She’d gotten hurt so many times I lost count. Men promising she was the one, if only that pesky wife wasn’t in the picture. And yet, the wife was neveroutof the picture.
Preston took a left, away from the eateries, cafés, and shopping district of Kensington Square and headed into the heart of Syracuse. The maze of byways and highways took us deeper into the flat grays and industrial flavor of the city.
“Where is this place?”
“Not far.”
