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“Uh huh. Sure.” He gives me a knowing smile. “And I’m not Brix Wilson.”
He’s such a fucking smartass, it’s infuriating.
He leans forward and flicks it over to the radio for me.
“I assume that’s what you were trying to do?”
I’m about to thank him when I see the phone in his hand.
“Hey, where did that come from?” I ask.
He looks at me curiously. “Uh, my pocket?”
I shake my head. “No way. I know how tight security is at the clinic. There’s no way in hell you smuggled that in.”
“I didn’t need to smuggle it in because they let me take it.” He shrugs and gives me a wink. “What can I say? I’m a persuasive guy who always gets what he wants.”
His gaze lingers on me for long enough to send a shiver shooting down my spine. Why didn’t I notice the way his left cheek dimples when he smiles like that? I hunch forward when my nipples decide to harden.
God, I hate that I find him so attractive right now.
“What you are is full of shit,” I retort, my tone cool. “I’ve never seen anyone get a phone past the guards. Not even full of themselves rock stars.”
“Lucky me, then, I guess.” He mutters, dismissing my comment like it’s not his problem. “My manager likes to make sure he can get ahold of me. He spoke with management and arranged it.”
I don’t answer. Instead, I stare out at the road in front of me, my fingers gripping the wheel so tight I’m expecting them to snap off. I feel his eyes on me, but I pretend not to notice, until he sighs.
“Okay, I think we need to clear something up.”
I freeze, bracing myself for the conversation I’m sure is coming.
“You’re either very attracted to me and you don’t quite know how to handle it, or you don’t like me.” He raises his eyebrows at me. “So, which one is it?”
I breathe out. That’s the big discussion we need to have?
I laugh because I’m so relieved. I was sure this was it. Not that bringing it out in the open changes anything, but I can keep kidding myself for a little longer that he doesn’t remember me.
“No. Trust me, I’m not attracted to you, at all. As for hating you, I don’t know you well enough.” I glance at him. “I nothing you.”
“Ouch. The three words every guy wants to hear,” he jokes. “Then why can’t you stand being in the same space as me?” His voice is more curious than offended. “I saw how you reacted to me yesterday and then I find you hiding under my bed?”
“I wasn’t hiding under your bed,” I hiss.
He shrugs. “You totally were. Don’t get me wrong, I think the hard to get approach you’re playing is kind of cute. It’s a nice change from women throwing themselves at me. I’m usually beating women away with a stick, not chasing them.” He pauses for a moment. “Figuratively speaking, of course. I’d never use a stick. I’m much more of a hands on kind of guy.”
I glare at him.
“Relax, I’m joking,” he assures me. “Wow, tough crowd. I don’t remember you being this difficult to satisfy the last time we met.”
He couldn’t mean…could he?
Of course he does. What else could that possibly mean?
I sink lower in my seat and stare straight ahead. My heart thumps as I grip hold of the wheel if only to disguise how badly my hands are shaking. I can’t look at him, because I don’t want to give him any reaction at all. That’s probably what he wants and if he sees how much it bothers me, he’ll keep doing it.
“Look,” he says. “I’m just messing with you. I’m sorry I had a drink. I didn’t even think about it, but you’re right. It shouldn’t have happened.”
I frown at him, not sure if he’s messing with me or not, but in the end, I give him the benefit of the doubt.
“It’s okay. It’s not even really that.” He gives me a curious look. “I have some family issues going on at the moment that I guess are kind of distracting,” I say, thinking on my feet.
Family issues are right up there with menstruation when it comes to shutting down a conversation. Nobody wants to open up that can of worms.
“Well, I can definitely relate to that,” he says, with a nod. “What’s going on?”
Well, nobody except Brix.
I clench my jaw.
I should’ve totally gone with my period.
“Trust me. You don’t want to know,” I mumble.
“I don’t know. I bet I could give your stories a run for their money.”
I bet you could.
Not that I really care.
I frown and turn right onto the street the clinic is on, sneaking another look at Brix. There’s something off about him, but I can’t quite put my finger on what it is. He’s firing all his usual comebacks, but there’s still something off. Maybe it wasn’t just beer he had in there. I don’t want to think the worst, but with Brix Wilson, it’s kind of hard not to, because the guy lives for controversy.
