“This isn’t a regular occurrence,” I said.
“Celebrating something?” he asked, and when I didn’t immediately answer, he added, “Or maybe trying to distract yourself from something?”
“Or maybe I just needed to let some steam out of the kettle, you know? Let loose a little.” My tone was far more defensive than I’d have liked. “Is that okay with you, detective?”
“Of course.” He held up a hand. “Hey, I’m not judging. I’m the last person on earth who gets to judge anyone.”
I pressed my lips together. “I like to thrift.”
“Thrift?”
“You asked what else I like to do. I go to secondhand stores and hunt for treasures,” I said. “Oh wait. You’re a rock star with a Tesla. Do you even know what Goodwill is?”
He scoffed. “I wasn’t always a rock star.”
“Really? I thought maybe you came out of the womb like that.” I swirled my finger in his direction.
“Like what?” he asked.
“A Calvin Klein model with a douchebag car.”
His brows raised in amusement. “Are you saying you think I’m hot?”
“Once again, I didn’t actually say those words.”
“But do you?”
I snorted. “What difference does it make what I think?”
He shrugged. “I just get the feeling you don’t impress easily. So, if you think I’m hot, then I must be doing something right.”
“You don’t need me to confirm anything. I doubt confidence is something you’ve ever lacked in your lifetime.”
“You’d be surprised.” His fingers flexed over the steering wheel, and when I looked at his face, the lightness that had been present throughout the evening had been replaced with a pensive expression.
“What about you? What doyoulike to do?” I asked. “Besides meeting girls in dive bars and cutting glass with your chiseled jaw?”
That playful glint returned to his eyes. “I’m working on cutting other things besides glass.”
“Oh yeah?” I asked. “Like what? Wooden planks? A pot roast?”
He feigned disgust as he changed lanes at the direction of our GPS guide. “You don’t think this jawline is at least worthy of a filet mignon?”
I scrunched my nose. “A New York strip, maybe. Or a sirloin.”
“A sirloin?” he repeated with a chuckle. “Now, I’m offended. Don’t make me pull this douche wagon over and kick you out.”
“Would you look at that—the jury is back in session,” I said. “And they’re saying you’re an asshole.”
He laughed, glancing in his rearview before taking the next exit.
“On a serious note, I guess I don’t really know what I like to do anymore. Though right now, meeting girls in dive bars certainly tops the list,” he said, flashing me a wink.
Heat rushed up my neck and into my cheeks. “How could you not know what you like to do?”
“It’s just been a long time since I did something purely for the enjoyment of it,” he explained. “I made music because I liked it, but at the end of the day, it was my job. I went to all those A-list parties because I wanted people to think I was someone I’m not. Back when I used to drink, it was to get drunk and forget all of my problems. I never did anything for the fun of it.”
“Sounds like tonight is exactly what you need, then.” What webothneed, I added silently.
