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“Nope.”
“Now who is speaking in riddles, Lennox?” This man is infuriating. He can’t manage to get two sentences out of his mouth without insulting me.
He sighs. “Listen, it’s not personal. I know you’re just doing your job. But your job is as phony as mine. You’re just collateral in the grand scheme, same as me.”
“Care to expand on what that means?” I ask him. There’s obvious tension between him and Celeritas, between him and Digby. He has a dream job, as far as I can tell, but I’ve also been around long enough to know that pro sports have a lot of politics and money thrown around that sometimes supersede ethics.
“Nope.” He replies but then smiles. I’ll have to settle for the crumbs he’s thrown me and consider it a win that he’s being civil and even moderately polite, for Lennox Gibbes.
“I liked your watch post.” He mumbles so low I almost can’t hear him.
I clutch my heart in surprise, “Did you just compliment me?”
“I’ve complimented you plenty. I said you’ve got a great ass, told you about your banging rack, there was something about your long legs wrapped around me,” he starts counting off his accolades in commenting on my body parts until I interrupt him by reaching across the seat and slapping his chest.
Oh, that’s a hard chest.
This is the first time both of us are laughing. It’s kind of nice.
“The new media is doing really well, I think. People seem to really engage with a more personal side of you, some of the good instead of only the bad.”
“If you think there’s a good side of me,” he jokes, “I need to step up my game and get tougher on you.”
“God, please don’t. I’m not quitting and I really can’t get fired right now.”
“I will never understand why the world cares about my personal life anyway. It’s not that exciting.”
“Looks pretty exciting if all the photos and articles are to be believed!” Club photos, beach photos, models and supercars, it’s Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous with an extra helping of Insanely Sexy thrown in.
“If you believe everything you see online, you’re not as good as you think you are. Left or right up here?”
“Oh sorry,” I say and check my map app. I’ve been distracted trying to crack this six-foot enigma driving the hot car. “Left, right at the 2nd street, and then we should be there.”
Lennox takes the next few corners and I point to a parking lot behind an old brick building just outside of Melbourne.
“What is this?” He asks. “You really a stalker and you’re going to tie me up inside?”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” I tease and start climbing out of the low car once he’s parked it.
“Aye,” he grins, meeting me near the hood of the Ferrari.
I start leading
him around to the front of the building. It’s kind of a run-down neighborhood and the building is old, but quaint and charming, not unlike the little town outside of London where my new flat should be waiting for me to officially move into. Rounding the sidewalk, the street is only a block or two long with small shops and it’s charming in a small town way.
“Ok, really, where are you taking me? I don’t see any Mercedes dealerships or Rolex shops,” he says, taking it all in.
“Nope, this isn’t for Celeritas, no ugly watches today,” I tell him and keep walking. Another few paces and I see the sign hand-painted on a large picture window — ‘Heart of a Lion Cat Rescue’. “Here we go,” I say and point to the door.
“I don’t get it,” he plants his feet and puts his hands into his front jeans pockets.
“Well,” I tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear and swing for the fences hoping this doesn’t backfire on me, “I heard you have an affinity for cats and I came across an article about this rescue last night. They do good work and they’re struggling, might lose their lease.” I look up at him with my best puppy dog eyes and bite my bottom lip.
“This is the pussy I was promised?”
I nod at him and bat my eyelashes.
He presses his lips together and shakes his head at me. “So, you want me to write a check or something?”
