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“So?”
“That’s a bit of a chestnut, isn’t it?”
“Is it?”
“Yeah.”
“What am I supposed to drive?” I ask, veering across two lanes of traffic so that I can make a left turn up ahead. “A Porsche? ‘Cause I’ve got one of those too. It’s cherry red and real low to the ground. I also own a BMW, just in case you’re interested.”
I glance across at her and catch the tail end of her rolling her eyes. Fuck. She’s so sassy. Bet she was real naughty as a kid. Nothing a good spanking with the palm of my hand wouldn’t fix.
“Overcompensating for something, are we?” she says.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
She gives me a snarky look, and her brows bunch up. “You think I don’t see through you? Seriously, what is it with guys being preoccupied with the length of their dicks? You’re all the same.”
“Oh, now who’s being cliché? A woman scorned. I’ve never heard of that before.” I turn left at the next set of traffic lights before moving carefully into the middle lane. “What happened? No, no, please… let me guess…” I wave my hand around, stopping her before she can answer me. I change gears. “The prom queen got her heart broken by the star quarterback. He cheated on her with someone way prettier and way sexier, and she’s dirty that she let him take her V-card to begin with. Now all guys must pay the ultimate price for that jack-ass. Am I close?”
I glance across at her with a satisfied smirk, convinced I must be right, but Brinley’s just sitting there, staring back at me with an anguished expression on her face that makes me think I just hit the jackpot.
She looks away quickly, hiding her eyes, and I suddenly don’t feel like a winner.
I kind of feel like a bit of a loser.
“Not even close,” she says quietly. She sounds distant as she turns and stares out the window, making circles on her skirt with her fingertips.
“Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to –”
“Yes, you did. Congratulations,” she says, still looking out the window, taking in the passing streets, the shop fronts, and the never-ending traffic. Without looking at me, she says in a softer voice, “How do you know where you’re going? You haven’t even asked me where I live.”
“I know where you live.”
This makes her pause. Her head jerks back, and she turns cautiously to look at me. “What did you just say?”
“Oh, come on. Don’t look so surprised.” I keep my tone as nonchalant as I can muster, but I don’t think I’m all that convincing. “We’re rich and famous. Rich and famous people have people for that sort of thing.”
I figure I better explain myself before she takes out a restraining order on my ass. I mean, on top of accusing me of plagiarism, of course.
“I got a file sent over this morning with your personal details. We have a private investigator that looks into things for us. The band, I mean. He’s the best in the business. I wanted to know what I was dealing with before I walked barefoot into the fire.”
A little line appears above the bridge of her nose. “You stalked me?”
“I wouldn’t exactly call it stalking,” I say, merging into the traffic before taking the next right toward the river. “It’s more of an insurance policy, of sorts.”
Her eyes widen slightly. “Please tell me you aren’t a psycho?”
“Define psycho,” I say with a deliberate smirk. “You’re the one who was standing out on the street with your tits all wet and gorgeous, crying your eyes out and swearing like a fucking sailor on leave. Maybe you’re the psycho, Tink?”
I glance over at her again. I smile at her, but shock horror, she doesn’t smile back at me. She’s trying desperately to figure me out.
Yeah, good luck with that.
Because lately, I’ve been trying to figure me out too.
Brinley
Of course he drives the biggest truck I’ve ever seen in my life.
