“That’s fair.” He glanced at his watch. “Saves me from making you face all the damage your team did to my McLaren.”
“They didn’t mention egging your McLaren at all,” I said. “Just the two Audis, the sports cars, and the—” I stopped myself. “I mean, I have no idea what you’re talking about, and I wasn’t involved.”
“Right…”
I tapped my screen, and the icons floated onto the sidewalk.
Oh my god… I’m definitely drunk.
I steadied myself, tracking down the black-and-white “Uber” logo and pressed it.
“Pick up from current address,” I muttered, reading the screen aloud. “Accept surge fee of—Seventy dollars?”
“I told you there’s a game tonight,” Asher said. “My car’s halfway down the block.”
“I don’t want you knowing where I live.”
“560 Seventh Avenue. Condo number seventeen.”
“You’ve been stalking me?”
“No, but I’m sure you could recite my address as well.”
432 Park Avenue. Penthouse suite…“Not at all. The less I know about you, the better.”
I glanced at my screen, and the seventy dollars had disappeared.
Now, the fee was ninety-six dollars, and the wait time was forty minutes.
“Okay, I would like to take you up on the ride home, but only if you can promise that you won’t talk to me.”
“Deal.”
He walked forward, gesturing for me to walk at his side, but the sidewalk was moving again.
Shaking his head, he wrapped his arm around my shoulder and pulled me against his side.
I tried to resist the urge to inhale his cologne as we walked, but it was no use. It was woodsy, spicy, and intoxicating all at once, and it belonged on a much better human than him.
The lights on his McLaren flashed as we approached, and he helped me into the passenger seat.
“Do you want the heated seat on?” He slid behind the wheel.
“Yes, please.”
He hit a button, and warm air instantly kissed my thighs.
Pulling onto the street, he coasted through a series of green lights.
“I hope you’re not planning to ruin your brother’s wedding,” I said.
“I could’ve sworn we agreed not to talk to each other.”
“I’m just uttering random sentences aloud.” I shrugged. “They’re not directed at you.”
“Okay, Katie.” He rolled his eyes. “No, I’m not planning to ruin my brother’s wedding. I do, however, think it’s ridiculous to have a week-long destination party for it, though.”
“I can’t believe they’re paying for everyone to have a first-class flight and five-star hotel accommodations,” I said. “Your brother must do very well for himself.”
