Page 11 of No More Billionaires

“Well, thanks,” I said, pulling my hand from Larson’s.

Why is he still standing here?

“No problem.” Again he looked down at me with a long pause. “Well, okay then. Have a good night.”

He turned and walked back in the direction of the WNN table.

I let out a breath of relief.

When I came out of the ladies’ room, Larson was back in the hallway.

“I think you’re in the wrong line. I saw the men’s room on the other side of the bar,” I joked, pointing off behind him.

He nodded. “Right. Yeah, I know where it is. I was thinking… you live in the suburbs, right?”

“Alpharetta. Yes.”

“Well, are you okay to drive? I mean, I could give you a ride home if you need one.”

In spite of my complete aversion to Larson and his entire breed, something inside of me responded to his concern. Jason certainly wasn’t looking out for me. I could have consumed several pitchers without his noticing for all the attention he’d paid tonight.

I gave Larson a dismissive wave. “I’m fine. I only had one beer.”

As he continued to study me, I added, “Thank you, though. I really do appreciate it, Larson.”

A smile spread across his face, crinkling the corners of his eyes in that familiar, yummy way. “That’s the first time you’ve ever said my name.”

Why does it make him so happy?

When I offered nothing but my usual vocal paralysis, Larson took my hand again.

“If you’re ready to go, I’ll block for you on the way to the exit. Stay close.”

This time holding his hand felt different. I was more aware of its heat, its texture, its size.

Big hands.

I’d always liked big hands on a guy. With him leading and forging a path, we made decent progress through the throng.

We’d nearly reached the front door when I heard Jason’s voice.

“Yo! Kenley! Where ya going, Chica? Party’s just getting started.” He pushed his way toward us.

“Hi Jason. I’m heading home. I have to get up early tomorrow for work.”

“So do I. You don’t see me wimping out.” He seemed to suddenly notice Larson’s presence. “Oh, hey man. Hey—you’re that dude on the news, right? Oh, you know my girl, huh?”

Larson’s expression was a mixture of amusement and disgust. “Kenley and I work together. Closely. And you are?”

“Jason Folsom. Her date. Nice, right?” He offered a self-satisfied grin and held his forearm up to Larson for a bro-bump.

Larson just looked at him, his arms remaining at his sides. One eyebrow went up, making him appear like the modern-day aristocrat he was. His tone was blistering.

“Well, yourdatewas nearly tackled by an inebriated giant on the way to the restroom and would’ve been trampled on her way to the door if I hadn’t run into her. And how did you expect her to get to her car back at the parking garage? Were you planning to let her walk alone at night in downtown Atlanta while you stayed here and had another round?”

I sucked in a breath and turned to Larson. My hand went to his chest automatically in a down-boy gesture.

“Larson. It’s fine. The garage is one block away.”

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