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Huh?
“I can open my own door,” I say.
The driver gets Rake’s door, but before he hops out, he looks over his shoulder at me. “For once, can you not argue?”
Dick.
Arms crossed, I slump back in my seat and wait, since in Rake’s world, opening a car door is not something you’re supposed to do yourself.
When I’m finally out, Rake extends his elbow for me to take. I walk right past him and lift my skirt to navigate the steps into the hotel.
“Petal,” Rake hisses from behind me.
I stop to let him catch up.
He takes my hand. “What is going on with you? Did I do something wrong?”
God, I’m such a bitch. I’m nervous as hell and taking it out on Rake. It’s so wrong. The man’s been nothing but nice to me. Especially when we had our little fun the other night.
The night I ran out on him. As soon as I had my orgasm, doubts began to swirl around my head, inviting big, unwanted waves of regret.
So I bolted to my own room.
I look down, pretending to search for something in my beaded Judith Leiber clutch. “I’m sorry. I am nervous. You’re right,” I mumble.
“What’s that, Petal? What did you say?” He hooks a finger under my chin, raising my face till our eyes meet.
“I’m sorry. You’re right, I am nervous. And when I’m nervous, I’m a bitch.”
My chin shakes, but goddammit, I’m not going to cry. Not here. “It’s been a lot, Rake. You know, it’s just everything. You’re a nice guy. I shouldn’t give you shit.”
He puts an arm around my shoulders and leads me away from the crowd. We find a secluded sofa to take a seat on. “C’mon. Let’s relax here for a minute.”
In spite of my best effort, one tear runs down my cheek. I wipe it away with the back of my hand, hoping I didn’t just smear black shit all over my face.
Rake pulls me into him, and I lean my head against his shoulder. “Take your time, Petal. We’ll sit here for a minute until you’re ready to go in. Unless you want to go home?”
I look at him. “No. I can’t do that to you. The agreement is I go to this stuff with you.”
He brushes a lock of hair behind my ears. “Not if it’s making you unhappy.”
I wish he’d stop being so nice. I don’t want to like this man. I really don’t. He embodies everything that bugs the shit out of me—sports, celebrity, killer good looks.
Actually, the killer good looks don’t bother me. But still. He’s freakingniceon top of all that.
I reach across his lap and take his free hand. “You have calluses. What are they from?”
“Working in my dad’s business. I haven’t done woodwork in years, but I guess the calluses stay with you.”
Fuck. I realize I barely know anything about this guy. I’ve been so stuck in my own head that I’ve hardly asked him anything about himself.
I stand up, and facing him, extend a hand. He looks up at me with a small smile and accepts.
“You sure you’re ready?” he asks.
I raise my head. “I am. Let’s do this.”
He presses a kiss to my temple. “Hey. Did I tell you how incredible you look in that dress? I had a feeling green would be your color.”
