“Douglas.”
“Kathryn.”
I stare at him. He keeps driving like he isn’t being a pain in my ass.
“You’re impossible,” I mutter.
“I’ve been called worse.”
“I’m sure you have.”
I glance out the window, trying to orient myself.
We’re still in Vegas, obviously, but not headed toward the Strip. Not toward any of the places I would expect for a big, flashy “make up for leaving you hanging” date.
Which is… interesting.
Suspicious.
Intriguing.
“I’m not even going to guess,” I say.
“Good.”
“I’m just going to sit here and be surprised.”
“That’s the plan.”
I narrow my eyes again, but there’s less bite to it now.
Because despite myself…
I’m kind of having fun.
We pull into a private lot about twenty minutes later.
I turn to him slowly. “If this is where you murder me, I’m going to be very disappointed.”
He huffs out a laugh, cutting the engine. “Noted.”
My jaw drops. “That’s all you have to say?”
“What would you like me to say?”
“I don’t know. Maybe ‘I promise I won’t murder you’?”
“Okay,” he says soothingly, like I’m a child. “I promise I won’t murder you.”
“See? Was that so hard?”
He opens his door, stepping out and coming around to my side before I can get mine.
“Come on,” he says, holding out a hand.
I hesitate for half a second before taking it, letting him help me out of the truck.
I eye him suspiciously. “If you’re lying, I’ll haunt you.”
