“See something you like?”
“Ugh, really?”
Dragging my eyes away from his annoyingly handsome face, I stare out the windshield.
His deep chuckle vibrates through the air, and damn it if the sound of it doesn’t make me squeeze my thighs together.
Why did he have to be so nice and thoughtful tonight? Why couldn’t he be the asshole I know he can be? Then I’d want to punch him in the face instead of fantasizing about sitting on it instead.
He continues driving in silence while I fume, irritated at myself for reacting this way.
I decide it’s him. It’s his stupid face and his stupid tattoos and his stupid arrogance.
Stupid hockey players.
I huff out a breath as I fold my arms across my chest.
“When you’re finished doing whatever you’re doing, I’m going to need an address.”
Before I know what’s happening, it’s rolling off my tongue.
“Yeah, I know it,” he says and takes the next right.
I was expecting him to put it into the GPS, but he doesn’t. Instead, he effortlessly navigates to my old apartment building.
The closer we get, the more I regret the knee-jerk reaction to send him here.
This man is half responsible for the person growing inside me. I should just be honest about my new shitty apartment and how I’m living my life.
So what, he’s got a million-dollar contract and more money than he knows what to do with. He won’t care that I don’t have as much as him. I should embrace it. Be honest.
And I will. But not tonight.
“Just here is great,” I say.
“But the entrance is all the way up there,” he points out, making me wonder if he’s been inside this building before.
He probably has a regular girl in there.
My stomach twists uncomfortably at the thought of him being with someone else.
It’s stupid. He’s not mine, and I’m not his.
Hell, he was out the other night with women hanging all over him. It’s what he does. I can’t expect him to stop just because we’re having a baby. It’s not like we’re together or anything.
“It’ll walk off some of the food,” I say in the hope he lets it go.
If he drops me at the door …
Oh God.
My heart begins to race as reality starts to hit.
Is he going to want to walk me to my door? At the very least, he’s going to want to see me into the building. But I’ve given my keys back. I can’t get in. I?—
“Okay,” he thankfully says, putting his blinker on and pulling over.
“Great. Wonderful. Fantastic,” I blurt.
