Archer played the chivalrous guy by opening my door. Nevertheless, just before closing it, he leaned over close to my ear, close enough to make me shiver yet enough distance away to avoid being too intrusive.
“You’d be pleased to know this isn’t the only engine I drive superbly well, machine or otherwise,” he whispered in a teasing tone.
I wasn’t going to lie—okay, it wasn’t as if my body could lie for me since it was panting as if I’d had my first orgasm—but, fuck … He was so aggressive and arrogant I couldn’t help reacting to his advances. I had been in his company for what, like ten minutes, and it was already a full speed chase? Um … I needed a breather. Like stat.
“Archer, you’re hot, but do you really have to be so flirty every second you’re with me? I’m calling a five-minute timeout.”
I was attracted to him—who wouldn’t be? Seriously, though, it was exhausting to flirt. I’d had no idea until then.
“A timeout?” Archer mused before turning on the powerful engine, which vibrated and roared to life. Shifting gears, he cocked his head to the side, giving me a challenging look. “You’re a laugh, you know that? I like it,” he declared before pressing on the gas pedal and driving like the daredevil he was.
I’m a laugh. Did that mean I was funny, or did that translate to me being laughable? I wasn’t sure how to interpret it. Who would have thought proper English could be this confusing? I sure as hell hadn’t seen it coming.