Page 97 of Off the Grid

“Of course, he does,” Isabella says.

“And we’ve kissed,” I offer.

“We know. We saw you in the bar.” Gia rolls her eyes.

“And a couple weeks ago. And almost at the race this weekend.”

That got their attention. “Ooohhh?” It’s a collective sound made by both of them.

I nod and suddenly want to spill everything to them—the teasing, the panic attacks, how he slept on my couch, the jealousy, the innuendos—but they’ll think I’m crazy for not acting on it. It’s not necessary to keep the dare card a secret anymore. I’m completely over it . . . and Riggs is definitely not the guy I thought he was the night we met. Time has proven that to me.

So I tell them.

About the dare card.

“Wait,” Isabella says, holding her hands up. “Does that have anything to do with the viral post he did about this?”

Don’t lie.

They’ll know.

I nod. “Yep.”

“Okay, so that was top level, I want your attention because I was a prick, but I’m a guy so I don’t know how to apologize type of apology.” Gia purses her lips. “I’m not convinced. He needs to grovel more.”

I tell them about the first race and the bathroom—our mutual panic attacks and his quiet understanding.

“Hold on.” Isabella’s eyes shock wider. “Didn’t he do an AITA—one about kissing the boss’s daughter?”

“And that was after you created the segment—so he knew you were going to see it.” Gia’s skeptical tone suddenly turns more cheerful.

I nod. “And I confronted him over it. Which led to an almost kiss and champagne and—” The two of them exchange a look with smug smiles. “What?”

“Someone likes him,” Gia singsongs.

My cheeks heat. I shrug. “I do. Especially after the other night.”

“What happened the other night?”

I explain about the party. About the kiss. About the naked man standing in my apartment.

I leave out the frequent dreams he stars in. Riggs on his knees between my thighs. His tongue—a treacherous thing to my sanity—that worked me into oblivion in the most sinfully decadent way. Having an orgasm wake me from sleep as it’s rippling through me.

And I most definitely omit that part about how Spencer Riggs is the first man to make me physically react and feel things. I save that for another discussion I know we’ll have soon.

Isabella raises a finger as she takes a long sip of her drink. Hopefully she dismissed my flushed cheeks as embarrassment rather than getting hot and bothered over the memory. “You’ve seen the goods, Cami. You like the goods. Go forth and finally fuck the goods.” Her last sentence is a shout that has people turning their heads and me ducking in embarrassment.

“Jesus. Will you quiet down?”

“Nope.” She grins devilishly. “You like this guy. Like, really like him, despite the rocky start.”

“And he works for the company,” I say.

“So what?” Gia throws her hands up. “You said he was a contract driver, right? Temporary for race to race? Are you really going to pass up something with a guy who might not be in the Moretti employ for much longer?”

“You guys are making a bigger deal about this than it is,” I say.

Another exchanged look before I get the mom look from both of them.