He slams on the brakes and I jerk forward before whipping my head to the back to see what we almost hit, only to find the path clear. “What?” he whispers, and I wrap my fingers around the base of my seat belt over the button, suddenly nervous, but more worried that I said something unintentionally offensive than that he’d actually hurt me.
“That came out weird, sorry. I genuinely just meant that I do understand. With the way Slade was talking about vetting people and your amusement that I had no idea who you were, I’d bet you’ve had your fair share of people trying to use you for your money. And this isn’t me trying to scream ‘oh, but I’m different, pick me.’” Scoffing with derision, I continue, “I deal with enough assholes that have no interest in looking at me as more than a potential lay, so I can sympathize. It’s hard to find people that actually see you as a person and not a means to an end.”
Slowly, he eases his foot off of the brake and finishes exiting the garage, following the path around the fountain and down the driveway. “You want to thank me, then see me,” he softly murmurs, and I press my lips into a thin line as he parrots my earlier comment back at me.
Pivoting to look out my window, I watch as we pull onto the abandoned street, passing a few other lavish houses before we turn out of the neighborhood that’s only big enough to host a handful of ostentatious properties. We carry on in silence while I mentally berate myself for not knowing when to shut the fuck up. It’s like my subconscious is determined to sabotage myself, coercing me to blow everything up before it has a chance to gain any traction.
He pulls to a stop outside of my building and I take a deep breath, turning to thank him, only to find him far closer than expected. Arm on the center console and leaning in, his golden eyes bore into mine as he asks, “I know you don’t accept rewards, but you’re fine getting paid for work, right?”
Already gripping the door handle, I don’t deign to respond, but his hand latches onto my wrist as I push my door open. Hastily, he rushes to correct, “Woah, wait! Fuck, I absolutely did not mean that at all like you’re taking it!” Releasing my arm, his cheeks are bright red, and he looks genuinely remorseful, so I wait for him to clarify, giving him the benefit of the doubt.
“So whatdidyou mean?”
He shakes his head. “It’s not going to be funny now.” At my pointed look, he caves. “I was going to ask if I gave you five bucks to say that same thing about value to Slade, would you let me watch as his head imploded?”
I can’t help it, I start laughing, and after an awkward moment where he’s testing if it’s a trap, Bo joins in. “I think that could be arranged.”
His shoulders slump in relief. “I’m going to shut up and leave now.”
Stepping out, I hold onto the door instead of closing it, realizing that they were right. There isn’t a single person waiting for me that will drill me with questions about where I’ve been or scoff at my choices. And fuck, how many people my age are hooking up on the first date nowadays, or skipping the date altogether? Why is that okay, but jumping into relationships isn’t?
I should have taken him up on his offer.
“Well, seeing as you were the only one who gave me your last name, do you want to come over for dinner tomorrow?”
His entire body tenses. “I’d love to, but I'm heading out of town for work and won't be back until Thursday or Friday. Would next weekend be okay?"
"Sure, give me a call when you get back and we'll figure it out."
He reaches into his pocket to withdraw his phone, only to groan as he realizes he ran out of the house in a hurry without it. "Text me from yours so I'll have your number?"
Fishing mine out of my purse, it's already dead since I never had a chance to charge it last night. "Well it would appear the universe is working against us, Boden Hawthorne. Maybe that's a sign."
He smirks. "That the best things in life are worth jumping through hoops for? I agree." Fishing around in his glove box, he adds, "And in case I wasn't clear, that was definitely flirting." He triumphantly withdraws a pen, positioning it above his arm. "And, go."
Smiling ear to ear, I rattle off my number, laughing when the pen dies after three digits and passing him the eyeliner from my purse. "You could always get it from Emmy."
He rolls his eyes. "You clearly need to spend more time with my sister if you think she'd just hand it over without giving me at least three wrong numbers first and playing games to torment me."
"Then let's hope you can read your writing when you get home," I tease, gesturing to one of the already smudged digits.
"Worst case scenario, I know where you live."
"Well, now Iknowyou're flirting, because that sounded mildly murderous and threatening."
He grins. "Anything you'd like me to bring next weekend?"
My eyes flick over him. "A shirt, maybe, so I can actually pay attention to our conversation at dinner? And yes, to be clear, that was me flirting." I shut the door on his laughter, walking away feeling lighter than I have in months.
