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Mitchell pales and peers at me over Tom’s shoulder. I have to admit, scared and cowering looks good on him.
“Look, I was only keeping Leighton company.” The jerk stumbles backward, evidently trying to get away, but in his inebriated state, he nearly falls. Neither Tom nor I make a move to help him.
“I didn’t know she was with someone.” He’s waving a hand in my direction but not willing to look at either of us. “Sorry, bro. No harm, no foul.” He nervously laughs, feet still inching away.
Tom’s fake boyfriend move is working. The human dung beetle scuttles back to whatever hole he climbed out of. Then we’re alone, and the ghost of Tom’s steady touch around my waist sends a shiver down my spine.
He turns to face me, and our gazes lock as off in the distance, someone—most probably Mitchell—unleashes a loud, disgusting burp.
We both grimace, but Tom quickly recovers. “Are you all right?”
His crystal-blue eyes darken the longer he studies my face. My answer rests on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t seem to find the words. I want to act like nothing happened. The kiss, his arm around me, his body pressing into my back. Erase it from my mind. As if it were that easy.
I should thank him for getting here when he did. But he didn’t have to rescue me and make it seem so effortless at that. I had it under control, my jittery hands and wobbly knees aside.
“Leighton, he didn’t try anything, did he?” He frowns, voice soft and concerned.
“No.” I scurry toward the car, his heavy footsteps close behind. “Let’s go.”
Once at the car, we stare at each other over the hood, the air thick and loaded. It’s as if he wants to say something but thinks better of it. And me? Of all the things I could say, I’ve chosen to not comment at all.
Just great.
He makes a slow sweep of the area. “Where’s Fal… I mean, Ms. Kingsley?”
“Not here.” I slip into the back and slam the door.
My friend bailed with a rock star not long after we arrived. And Felix? He was a no-show, or if he was here, he ignored my texts. I should have stayed at the hotel tonight. Jaw tightening, I grind my teeth together as if it were that easy to squash all the jerks who left me tonight.
Except not everyoneleftme. Tom showed up when I called. He even went further than that and stood up for me with Mitchell.
My insides churn, and I’m not sure if it’s a giddy euphoria, finally knowing what it feels like to have someone at your back, both figuratively and literally. Or is this nervous indignation? Of all people to be there for me, it’s the driver.
Tom takes a few minutes before he finally gets into the car and drives away from the house.
His fingers skip along the steering wheel as he glances at me in the rearview mirror. “Leigh—er, sorry, Ms. Price. I’m sorry about what happened back there. I was out of line. But when I pulled up, things looked all wrong. That guy—”
I snap my head to the window, unable to look at him and not think about his lips, and stop him from saying any more. “Forget about it.”
My shoulders tense, and I ready for him to ignore me and keep talking. But he doesn’t. I steal a glance at him. Blues, oranges, and reds from the night lights outside shade his features.
We sit like that for what feels like forever but might be only seconds. I stare for far too long, teeming with an uneasy sense of gratitude and relief. Usually, I have to take care of myself. No one looks out for me unless there’s something in it for them.
My sex throbs and core heats. I rub my thighs together to settle the burgeoning ache and wrestle with the fact that I might be horny. How wrong is that? Tom didn’t have to help, and the boyfriend act…
He kissed me, got really close. He could’ve scared off Mitchell with far less…interaction.
If Tom senses my eyes on him, he gives no indication. His attention remains fixed on the road. I should keep my mouth shut. Let the drive to the hotel pass in silence. But I don’t.
My father, Fallon, and even Felix crowd my head, and I can’t help but feel pitiful. “It took you long enough to get there.”
“I got here as fast as I could.”
His nonchalant shrug stokes my desire to wage a war, but truth be told, he isn’t the one I want to battle. He’s conveniently the only one here, and isn’t that ironic?
This complete stranger—far too easy on the eyes and too kind for his own good—was the only one who didn’t abandon me tonight.
Tom could’ve refused to pick me up regardless of my threat to find another car service. I was screwing myself over just as much as him with that one. Who knows if I could get another driver for tomorrow at such short notice?
