Page 91 of Never Date A Player
I sort of asked for that, but still. “Arrogant much?”
“Not really. It’s the truth.”
He wasn’t interested in the girl who cornered him. He never stopped looking for me. Rationally, I know this, but somehow this discussion has me pissed off. This is not how you go about reassuring someone that you’re committed to making it work. I wiggle on his shoulder and try to slip off.
“Quit it, Genevieve. I could drop you.”
“Then put me down.”
He boosts me off like he’s going to hurl me, then catches me and walks toward the parking lot, arms braced beneath my ass. He looks me in the eye, our chests plastered together. “We’re getting your hand checked, then we’re going to talk.”
“My hand, caveman. The legs function just fine.” I kick out a foot in demonstration.
He snorts. “Yeah, those work too well. I need to tell you some things before you take off again.”
“Hey, I’ve been around. It’s you who’s been distant.”
He stops beside the passenger door of his Jeep. We’re nose to nose, so close I can see the sweat at his hairline, mud, smooth skin, dark eyes. Only then does he loosen his arms and allow me to glide slowly over every ripple and ridge of him until I touch ground. His hand supports my lower back, tucking me close as if he’d rather not let me go. “I’m sorry about that. I’ve been trying to make things right, but it’s taken time and a lot of coordinating.”
I have no idea what he’s talking about, but I guess that’s what we’ll discuss. I step away and wobble, because if Lewis is hot from a distance, up close he’s like an inferno. “What about the guys?” I glance behind us, belatedly remembering our drunken comrades in need of a ride. Nessa had to fill in for someone today, otherwise she’d be around to take them home.
Lewis opens my door and waits for me to enter. “All taken care of. Zach found them a sober driver.”
Urgent care is closer than the ER, according to Lewis, so that’s where we go. My middle finger is in fact broken right below the knuckle, which makes for an attractive splint. I’ll be perpetually flipping everyone the bird for the next three weeks.
The doctor says the bone is aligned and not a severe break. It should heal well if I keep the splint on, but it’s my right hand, so, of course, I can’t write, or work as a cocktail waitress, not that I intended to return to Blue. Drake made working there less than ideal, but I had no idea how truly dangerous.
“Why are you driving north?” My eyes follow the casinos sweeping past. My house is in the opposite direction.
“I thought my place would be better for talking without an audience. Is that okay?”
I nod and look out the window, eyes unfocused. I’m scared and excited. Pretty much the two divergent emotions that grip me around Lewis. It’s a heady mix.
We pull around the bend of a long eastbound road to Lewis’s quintessential ski lodge nestled amongst ancient boulders and forest. Beams of sunlight stream through the trees and shine off the red roof of his house. The dull sting in my chest flares, the one that’s kept me company since the night I found him here with Mira and realized she would always be a barrier between us.
Lewis pulls the key from the ignition and we walk up to his small porch. He unlocks the front door and gestures me inside.
I had a good view of the interior the night I came by, so there are few surprises. The only part of his house I couldn’t see was the staircase and the second level. Considering that the living room, with an oversized man-couch and a granite and pine kitchen, takes up the downstairs, there’s probably a bedroom up there. The house is an A-frame and not much else would fit.
Lewis walks past me into the kitchen and drops his backpack on the island. The kitchen is small and the island is more of a peninsula, attached to the wall with the oven, but the materials are top quality, gray-speckled granite with knotty pine cabinets.
He purses his masculine lips, which has me fantasizing about that part of him up close and personal. His head turns slightly to the side. He lets out a slow breath and glances down my body. “We should shower.”
Heat blooms in my cheeks and my breathing speeds up. “Excuse me?” I choke.
He stalks across the room and climbs the stairs, disappearing up the stairwell.
“Lewis?”
“Come on. Towels are up here,” he calls.
How will taking a shower help the situation?
The sound of a door opening comes from above, along with a shower turning on. I’m covered in dirt and I guess it would be more comfortable to shower before we talk.
Screw it. I toss my purse on the counter and climb up after him.
The upstairs is taken up by the largest bed I’ve ever seen, and a master bath. There’s really no place for me to go except inside his bedroom.
