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James returned minutes later, cup of coffee and a fuzzy blue blanket in hand.
“Here.” He handed the cup to me first. “Two sugars. right?”
“Yeah. How’d you guess?”
He pointed to the back of my phone case. The Pier Autumn Coffee logo, an orangey red leaf, was printed under two sugar cubes as my “how I do coffee” choice.
“My neighbors go there all the time.” He handed me the blanket. “I got this for you since you’re wet …” He let out a low laugh. “From the rain.”
For the first time in my life, I was tempted to say, “Fuck it. Take me home with you.” I couldn’t believe I was this aroused from a smile and a few simple touches.
“Has anyone ever told you that you say a lot of your thoughts out loud?” James looked at me as he cranked the engine, that cocky smile tugging at his lips again. “If you want to go home with me, I’m more than open to that. Is that what you want?”
I didn’t even know what to say. I sipped my coffee and avoided looking at him for the next several minutes—not trusting myself to utter any decent words.
“How much gas money am I going to owe you for this ride?” I asked, finally.
“None,” he said. “I’ll settle for your phone number.”
“I don’t think my boyfriend would like that.”
“I don’t think your boyfriend exists.” He reached down and picked up a bag. “By the way,” he said, placing it onto my lap, “That small gas station did sell phone chargers. I bought you one.”
“What? You’ve had this the whole time?”
“That’s an interesting way of saying, thank you.” He smirked.
“Thank you for hiding the phone charger for one and a half hours.” I plugged it into the cigarette lighter and connected my phone. “That was very thoughtful of you.”
“If I’d given it to you earlier, you would’ve just scrolled on social media the whole time. Figured I’d make you focus on me, instead of letting you obsess over stuff online.”
“I wouldn’t have done that.” I paused, literally logging into Facebook the moment my phone charged to one percent. “Okay. Maybe you’re right. It’s just a habit, though. I’m not obsessed at all.”
“I’m sure.” He laughed and cruised onto a ramp.
Dimming the light on my screen, I typed his name into the ‘search for friends’ box, but no results appeared. I tried, “James Garrett, Nevada” “James Garrett, California” “James Garrett, Lake Tahoe” and the results were the same.
“You’re not on Facebook?” I asked.
“No, never will be.”
“Why not?”
“Because that’s not how true friendship works in my world,” he said. “How many friends do you have on there?”
“Two thousand, but five thousand followers.”
“How many of them could you have called to come get you and bring you home?”
Zero. I didn’t answer.
“Exactly.” He looked over at me. “Which way do I go from here?”
SHIT.
I hadn’t been paying attention, hadn’t realized we were only half a mile from the long, winding road that led to The Kensington Estate. “You can drop me off right up there at that bell tower. I can walk to my house from there.”
He shot me a blank stare. “You think I drove all the way out here to drop you off at a bell tower?”
“No, but—” I tried to come up with an excuse. “But?”
“But it’s not happening,” he said. “If you’re worried that I’m going to stalk you, don’t be. I don’t make a habit of driving two and a half hours across the lake every night.”
“Right. Well, how about dropping me off at that parking pad on your left?”
“How about, no.” He put the car in park. “Are you really that embarrassed to let me drop you off at your front door? It can’t be that bad.”
A loud tapping sound suddenly came from outside his window.
“Roll it down now,” a deep voice said. “I don’t know where the hell you think you’re going, but you’re a little too close to this private property.”
James rolled down the window, and a harsh light flashed onto my face.
“Miss Kensington?” It was Bernie, our goddamn security guard. “Is that you?”
Fuck. I nodded. “Yes.”
“Oh.” He put his flashlight away and looked at James. “Why didn’t you pull up to the guard tower and say you were here to drop off Miss Kensington?”
“I didn’t know I was dropping off Miss Kensington.”
“Well, next time, just pull up there, okay?” He stepped back and pointed ahead. “Carry on and be careful on the estate road. Lots of twists and turns.”
“Will do.” He rolled up the window and drove forward.
I felt his gaze on me as he took his time driving along the tree-lined road.
He cleared his throat a few times, trying to get my attention, but I kept my eyes glued to the gardens outside my window.
When we finally made it in front of the double stone staircase that sat in front of my family’s castle-inspired mansion, he turned off the engine and stepped out of the truck.
