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“Next time you need a ride––and I’m not just saying this––call me.”
“Mack, I’m fine.”
“You don’t get it. I literally won’t sleep at night if you don’t make me this promise.”
The sincerity in his eyes makes me pause, the light blue turning darker in the lack of light.
Blue. Blue. Blue.
“Promise me,” he pushes.
“You hardly know me,” I remind him.
“Guess it’s just in my nature.”
“To care about weak, pathetic people?” I question dryly.
“To care about my friends and their well-being.”
Friends.
The word hits differently than when Ash, Blake, or Mia says it.
I hesitate, digging my teeth into the inside of my cheek and dipping my chin in a single nod. “Fine. If I ever need a ride, and there isn’t anyone at home, and it looks like it’s going to rain,andI’m craving cookie dough, I’ll give you a call.” I start to slide out of the passenger seat, but he reaches for me, grabbing my wrist.
The heat from his grasp warms my forearm through my jacket as I look down at his fingers encompassing it.
“Or if you feel stir-crazy and want to get out of the house,” he clarifies. “Or if you start walking somewhere and decide you don’t want to walk anymore. Or if you just want a fucking ride somewhere. Anywhere.Period.Give me a call.”
He’s serious. I can see it. Feel it. Taste it. Honestly, I’ve never met a more sincere man in my life other than my father, but even he doesn’t countbecausehe’s my father. The man beside me? He’s practically a stranger. A nice stranger. With kind eyes and a kind smile. But a stranger, nonetheless.
A stranger who probably has other things to worry about. Otherfriendsto worry about.
“I’ll be sure to give you a call,” I lie.
His mouth quirks up on one side, and he lets me go. “Oh, you will?”
“Yup.”
“Then, I should probably give you my number.”
Dammit, the thoughtful asshole caught me.
“Are you always this bossy?” I ask.
He smiles, and my stomach somersaults.
“You know what? I have a better idea.” He pulls out his phone. “What’s your number? This way, you can’t fake saving my contact info or give me the wrong number.”
He waits patiently, his thumbs hovering over the screen as the rain pitter-patters against the roof of his car.
“Mack,” I warn.
“Kate,” he returns, refusing to budge.
“You really won’t let this go, will you?”
His smirk turns into a full-on grin. “Not a chance.”
