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When we reached the condo complex, there was a gorgeous convertible Mustang in the visitor parking. The kind of thing that looked out of place among the scattered, practical vehicles, especially with the rental sticker hidden in the bottom corner of the rear window.
Someone wanted to pretend they were impressive.
We stepped inside the condo to find Nigel waiting. Megan grinned. It was literally like someone had flipped a switch on the back of her neck, the way she lit up.
I wasn’t sure what to make of the fact that he had a key to Megan’s sister’s place. “I’m glad you let yourself in,” I teased.
It didn’t come out sounding like a tease.
“I gave him a key. I tend to lock myself out sometimes,” Megan said.
Because of course her not-boyfriend had a key to a place she’d lived in less than a week. I couldn’t let myself forget even for a heartbeat that I was no more in this relationship than a fun, fuckable friend.
“But shouldn’t you be at work?” Megan asked.
Nigel grinned. “We took the rest of today off, plus Friday. Servers aren’t coming back online until next Monday for the beta and Judith decided we deserved a break after crunching since Sunday.”
“Yay.” Megan clapped and threw her arms around Nigel’s neck. “So you came here?”
“Of course.” He squeezed her tightly, then pulled back enough for one of those drawn-out kisses that made me hard and limp at the same time to witness.
This was awkward. And then some. Maybe I should go.
“Since I have a long weekend, I was thinking…” Nigel broke the lip-lock, spun Megan to face me, and stuck his hand in her back pocket. “Number 7, and number 33.”
“Number 33 is crossed off,” Megan said.
I raised my hand. “Forgive me if I haven’t memorized the numbers. Do you want to fill me in, or should I go?”
“Don’t go.” Megan reached out and grabbed my hand. “Number 7 isdrive a really nice car, like a Mustang or something.”
I hated to be that guy. “A Mustang isn’t a really nice car. Unless it’s a fully restored ‘68 with a new engine under the hood that has at least as many horses as the name implies.”
Megan stuck out her tongue at me. “I didn’t figure I’d ever be driving a Lamborghini, so I compromised. And number 33 isroad trip to Vegas.”
Ah. “So the rental in the parking lot…?”
A pair of keys flew up in the air as Nigel tossed and caught them. He slipped them into Megan’s pocket. “For the trip. While we’re there, we can do other things—ride that coaster that goes over the edge of a building, bungee jump, see that Harley exhibit they have there right now, anything you want.”
“You all have fun with that.” I tugged free of Megan’s grasp.
“Do you have other plans?” Nigel asked.
I didn’t have any. Find work, but the weekends weren’t great for that, given that most software companies were closed and most bars were too busy to talk to new hires. “Vacuum my apartment.”
“Come with us.” That hint of pleading that slid into Megan’s voice was enough to break down any resistance I might have.
Not that I was interested in fighting this, but the money, the time away from home—
“We’re going to pay the same for gas and hotel whether or not you join us,” Nigel said.
This felt like a bad idea. Now was the point where I needed to saynoand leave.
“All right.”Fuck. Too late to take it back.
Nigel had already packed. Megan grabbed a bag, we stopped by my place long enough for me to do the same, and a short while later, we were on the road. Megan insisted she was okay in the back seat, and we agreed when we got a little further south, where it was warmer, we could put the top down and she’d drive. Vegas was only six or seven hours from Salt Lake, so we’d be there before it got too late.
“Ooh, we should go see Thunder from Down Under while we’re down there,” Megan teased as we careened down I-15 at a decent clip.
