Page 19 of Receiving His Mercy
“Why are you smiling?” he asked. “Your personal safety isn’t a joke.”
Jeez. Someone had taken their serious pill tonight. “I know it’s not a joke.”
“Do you? I’m not sure that you do. It’s not safe to take public transportation at night.”
“I was going to take an Uber home.”
“Uber? An Uber!” he yelled.
Dear Lord. What was wrong with an Uber?
“What is going on with you? Why were you at that restaurant?” she asked suspiciously. “You weren’t following me, were you?”
“Why would I follow you?” he asked.
Right. Why would someone like him follow someone like her?
That was ridiculous.
He didn’t even bloody well like her.
Although if he didn’t like her why was he driving her home? It had to be something to do with Lacey.
“Were you following me?” he asked her.
What the heck?
“Following you? I was there with another man.” Not quite how she’d meant to say that. She wasn’t there to see River romantically. It was a business interview. After hours. Because she’d really wanted to try that restaurant and hadn’t wanted to go alone.
Turns out, moving to New York when the only people you knew were your agent and some magazine acquaintances could be rather . . . lonely.
You’re only here temporarily.
Soon, you’ll be gone and you can . . . what? Chase your loneliness away by working every hour God gives you?
Shit. Was that what she’d been doing all this time? Trying not to notice how freaking lonely she was?
“I was there on a date, too,” he told her.
A date?
A stab of something hit her. What was that feeling?
Disappointment? Anger?
Ridiculous. She had no claim on him and she never would. She had to get over this childish crush.
Even if watching him drive was like her own personal aphrodisiac.
Dangerous. It was very dangerous to be this close to him. What she really needed was some space so she could think more clearly. And not breathe in his pheromones because they did something crazy to her brain.
“A date? Where was she?” she asked. Then she winced as she realized how accusatory she sounded.
His lips twitched as he turned to her. “Think I’m making her up?”
“Um, no. Of course not. You just don’t seem the type to let a woman leave on her own.”
Hence why she was now stuck in a Travis Andrews-filled pheromone trap. Otherwise known as his truck.
