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“So, I can pretend you’re my taxi driver,” she says. Then she bops me on the nose with her finger and I can’t help the laugh that pours out of me.
“Okay,” I tell her, taking her arm. “You really are beyond wasted. Let’s get you home.”
I guide her to my car, get her settled, and start driving. I pull out of the parking lot and get on the road, but then I realize that I’m not sure where I’m going. I actually don’t even know if she lives in Tigress. I guess I’m about to find out.
“Where to?” I ask her.
“To my house,” she says.
“Okay,” I glance in the rearview mirror. “What’s your address?”
“Um,” she shakes her head. “It’s a big blue house. The shutters are green.”
Weirdly, I know exactly where she lives, and I’m not sure if that makes it totally obvious that I work in real estate development or if it makes me seem like a crazy stalker. The reason I know the house is because I want to buy it. Desperately. It’s fucking gorgeous, but when I called the owner, he had no interest in selling. In fact, he was pretty pissed off that I even bothered to ask if he’d consider putting it on the market or selling it privately to me.
How did this little minx manage to get a house like that?
I wonder if she recently moved in or if she’s staying with the person who owns the home. Perhaps it’s not polite to ask, but then again, I’ve never really been a polite sort of person. Besides, I really am curious. I’m very persistent when I want to be. It’s one of the reasons I’m so very good at my job and one of the reasons I’m consistently increasing my company’s revenue. It also tends to get me into trouble.
“Did you just buy that house?” I ask her. “I know exactly where it is.”
“Nah,” she shakes her head. She’s laying on the backseat of the car now. She seems wildly comfortable for someone who is in a car with a stranger. Her skirt is bunched out and her panties are showing, but I look away. I’m so turned on I feel like my cock is going to explode, but I can’t look at her like this. She’s not trying to be sexy, I remind myself. She’s just getting comfortable.
“Have you lived there for a long time?”
“Yup.”
Okay, so she’s a woman of few words. Apparently, I’m going to have to try harder if I’m going to pry any information from her.
“Do you have roommates?”
She sits up suddenly and leans forward. Ah, now we’re getting somewhere.
“Do you like tacos?” She asks.
Okay, maybe not.
“Tacos?”
“Tacos,” she nods.
“I suppose.”
“Let’s go get tacos,” the woman says.
“Really?” I look in the rearview mirror, and to be honest, she looks so damn excited that I can’t find it in myself to tell her no. It’s totally crazy and silly, but why not? It’s the middle of the night and if she wants tacos, then I’m certain we can find a place that’s open.
“Yeah,” she says.
“Okay.”
We drive around to the only two fast food places in town. One closes at midnight, but the other one is open round-the-clock. Despite the fact that it’s a burger joint, they totally sell crunchy tacos. Better yet? They’re less than a dollar each.
“How many do you want?” I ask.
“Five,” she says.
I laugh. “Really?”
