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Addicted to Love

Page 103

by A.M. Myers

He nods, taking a tentative step toward me. “And if she does somehow find a phone, she’ll call your cell, right?”

“Yeah.”

“And if Streak finds anything, he’ll call my cell so what exactly is keeping you locked up in your penthouse all day long?”

I open my mouth to argue with him, but I can’t think of anything keeping me here. He’s right. If Ivy manages to get her hands on a phone, the number she knows is my cell number and with Rosie unwilling to help us, no one will come here. But how can I go out and do something when she’s in trouble?

“It feels wrong to go live my life when she’s in trouble,” I admit and he nods his head.

“I know, sweetheart, but what would Ivy tell you to do if she were here right now?”

I think back to our lunch date not so long ago and how much she was pressuring me to find someone. If she were here right now, she’d yell at me for letting a perfectly good man go to waste. I fight back a smirk.

“She would tell me to lock you in the bedroom and stay there until we were too weak to walk.”

He chuckles. “I like the way she thinks but I have something else in mind first. Indulge me?”

“Yes,” I whisper, nodding. How could I ever say no to him anyway? Especially when he gives me those pleading eyes. He grins, smacking my ass and I jump.

“Go change into something you don’t mind getting dirty.”

My brow shoots up. “Where the hell are you taking me?”

“You’ll see soon enough,” he says with an evil grin on his handsome face. “Now, go change.”

With a sigh, I march into my bedroom and fight back a smile as I dig my favorite jeans and pink V-neck t-shirt out of the dresser. After changing, I slip on a pair of sneakers and meet him back in the living room. His gaze travels down my legs before slowly trailing back up as his grin grows.

“You look cute as hell, Princess.”

I roll my eyes and he holds his hand out to me with his truck keys jingling in his other hand. “Ready?”

“I suppose.”

He scoffs, opening the door as I lace my fingers with his. He locks the door behind us and glances over at me as we head toward the elevator. “Are you going to pout all damn day?”

I shrug, turning away to hide my smile. “I might. You’ll just have to deal with it since you forced me out today.”

“Oh, yeah?” he asks with a hint of something in his voice that draws my attention to him. We stop in front of the elevator and he presses the button before winking at me. Before I can do anything else, he pulls me into his arms and starts tickling me.

“Chance!” I scream, wiggling in his arms as he tortures me.

“Are you done being a brat?” he asks, his fingers digging into my side and I nod as I try to shove his hands away.

“Yes! I promise.”

His hands fall away and I bend over, breathing heavily as the elevator doors slide open. I flash him a glare, but he just grins as we step into the car and the doors close. I hate to admit it, but I do feel a little bit better than I did in the apartment. If I ever tell him that, though, he’ll never let me forget it. I lean against the back wall of the elevator and Chance stands next to me, wrapping his arm around my shoulders as he presses a kiss to the side of my head. I soak up the affection, letting it warm me from the inside out. God, why did I fight this for so long? It feels so right that I can’t imagine what I was thinking before.

When the doors slide open on the first floor, Chance takes my hand again and leads me out to his truck, opening my door and helping me hop up before he walks to his side and slips behind the wheel. He fires up the engine and grins in my direction, earning a puzzled look from me that makes him laugh. Whatever he has planned must be good if he’s this excited about it. I remember the haunted restaurant he took me to on Saturday and I’m fighting back a smile of my own, feeling a little of his excitement. Chance isn’t a dinner and movies kind of guy. He puts time and thought into anything he does, even something as small as showing up with pizza and ghost hunter shows on DVD to distract me from the issues with my sister like he did last night. He’s the kind of guy that would insist on writing his own vows or bring his wife flowers just because. Underneath that cocky, sarcastic, devil-may-care exterior is one of the sweetest, most caring, loyal men I’ve ever met, which is just one reason why I felt safe enough to trust him with my heart.

“What are you thinking about over there, baby?” Chance asks, breaking through my thoughts and I smile over at him.

“You.”

His brows shoot up in surprise. “Me? Good things I hope?”

“Always.”

“You seem to be feeling better,” he comments and I eye him warily.