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“About earlier, at the pier.” Nate grimaced. “I was a dick. I shouldn’t have said those things to you. I don’t think you’re that…”
“Snobby? Vapid? Stuck-up?” Kris shrugged. Her dress was wrinkled from sitting too long, and her normally perfect hair fell in messy waves around her face. She’d never looked more beautiful. “It’s water under the bridge. Besides, Iamsnobby and stuck-up, though I’d like to think I’m not that vapid. And I don’t choose who I hang out with based on the size of their bank accounts.”
“You’re not stuck-up,” he said automatically.
A ghost of a smile touched her lips. “But I am snobby?”
“Shit, no. I mean—”
“It’s fine.” She laughed. “I appreciate the apology, and I know what you meant. It’s been a long day.” Kris’s gaze drifted toward Michael’s room. “How’s your dad doing?”
“He’s fine. Stable.” Nate rubbed a hand over his face. “You really don’t have to stay. You’ve done more than enough.”
“I don’t have to, but I want to.”
Something reached inside Nate’s chest and squeezed. Hard.
He let out a sharp exhale and averted his gaze. “You wanna get out of here?” He couldn’t bear to look at the white walls and listen to the faint, incessant beeping of monitors any longer. “There’s a place I wanna show you—if you’re not too tired.”
Kris hesitated, and he suppressed a flinch at his idiotic question.
Of course she’s tired, asshole. It’s past midnight.
“Let’s do it,” she said.
Relief and a strange, warm feeling he couldn’t identify fizzled through him. Nate cast one last look at his father’s room before leaving.
They entered the elevator and rode it to the garage in silence.
Shit, he couldn’t believe Kris had witnessed all the drama with his father. He never let anyone outside his family in on how bad things were, not even Elijah. It was none of their business, and the last thing Nate wanted was anyone feeling sorry for him.
Fortunately, Kris hadn’t thrown him a pity party. She was sympathetic, but she didn’t look at him like he was some sad sack charity case whom she wanted to “help.”
Nate was more grateful for that than anything else she’d done that night.
Their footsteps echoed in the garage on their way to her Mercedes. Once they reached the gleaming silver convertible, Kris unlocked the car and tossed him the keys. “You drive.”
His eyebrows shot up. “You’re kidding.”
“I don’t kid.” She slid into the passenger seat, and Nate had no choice but to take the driver’s seat.
His heart rate kicked up as he surveyed the shiny, high-tech dashboard and sleek black leather interior. This was hands down the most expensive car he’d ever been in, and as much as he loved his loyal Honda Civic, it would be nice to drive something that didn’t have a fifty-fifty chance of dying on him in the middle of the freeway.
Let’s test this baby out—niiiiice.
A Mercedes wasn’t a Mustang or a Corvette, but the smooth, powerful purr of the engine was still music to his ears.
“Buckle up,” Nate said with a grin. “Warning: you might regret giving me the keys when this is all over.”
He was careful getting out of the garage and on the side streets, but once they were on the freeway? He put the top down and let it rip.
Holy. Shit.
If Nate weren’t so dedicated to acting, he would’ve seriously considered a career in racing or something similar. The wind on his skin, the ability to control all that speed and power with a tap of his foot and a turn of the wheel…this must be what freedom felt like.
During the ride, he checked on Kris to make sure she was doing okay. He shouldn’t have worried—her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes sparkled like she was enjoying their wild ride through L.A. as much as he was. She’d even put her hair up in a bun—so it wouldn’t get messed up by the wind, he assumed.
He found that oddly charming.
