She smiled, and I literally lost myself in it. In her, in the ridiculous moment, in everything we could be.
Oh yeah, baby. Tonight, you and I are going to dance.
“I can’t believe you’re coming to my parents’ house with me,” Cassie grumbled as we got into the cab waiting at the curb outside Portland International Airport. To be fair, I hadn’t told her I was coming until we were at the airport, through security, and I was following her to our gate. She’d thought I was flying home to New York.
A smile had become pretty much permanently affixed to my face after the weekend we’d had, and like always, her complaining only made me more cheerful. I was in a strange place, getting all of my jollies from a recipe book that suggested two cups of Cassie with a teaspoon of messing with her stirred in.
It was the weirdest fucking catalyst for happiness, but I embraced it. It meant more of her. More laughs. More sex. More everything I was finding I didn’t want to go a day without.
“Believe it because I am,” I advised. “If you didn’t want me to come, you should have told me before I got on the big metal bird and flew over nine hundred miles in a direction other than home.”
She scoffed indelicately, and I bit my lip so as not to laugh. “How the fuck do you know how many miles are between here and Las Vegas?”
I shrugged. “Miles are a number. I know numbers.”
“Okay, Chandler.”
“What’s the big deal, anyway?” I asked seriously, trying to get to the root of the issue.
“Meeting the parents? Hello? That’s a big deal.”
“I asked you to meet my parents,” I pointed out.
“Yeah, while I was wearing a T-shirt about my pussy. You knew I wasn’t going to go inside. You’re coming with me to stay over!”
“And?”
“And I’ve never brought a guy home before.”
I laughed and apparently angered her more by pointing out the obvious. “No kidding.”
“Excuse me?” Her stare was lethal. I glanced to the cab driver to see the whites of his eyes in the mirror, but they shot back to the road when I widened mine. No doubt this would be showing up in some New York Times bestselling book at some point. Cab driver turned romance novelist.
Actually, that sounded kind of interesting. I should pitch that idea to someone.
“You’ve never been in an actual relationship, honey. You told me that yourself. So I just assumed you’d never brought anyone home before.”
“Oh.”
“Oh,” I mocked with a rise of my brows.
She slapped my dick.
“Fuck, Cass!” I said, pressing a hand to my crotch to stave off the burn.
Satisfaction turned her eyes downright mischievous. “Serves you right.”
Thankfully, since it’d been a fairly superficial blow, it only took me a few seconds to catch my breath. “So what do I need to know about…” I started to ask.
“About?”
“Insert your parents’ names here,” I explained.
“Oh. Diane and Greg.”
“Ah, Diane and Greg. And what do I need to know about them?”
“My mom is on the local news.”
“She commits that many crimes, huh?” I teased.
Her gaze turned out the window, and the corners of her lips turned up just slightly. She was close with her mom.
“She’s been with KTLJ for nineteen years. She has pretty middle-of-the-road political views, but she’s a lot more traditional than I am. Really into mission work. My dad is a doctor, but he’s retired now. He mostly just does volunteer work at the local shelters and kids’ group homes and stuff.”
“Wow, your parents sound very—”
“Philanthropic?” she offered, turning back to look right at me.
“Exactly. And like really fucking great people.”
“They are. They’ve always supported me, and I haven’t exactly been the easiest person to support.” Her face was warm with genuine familial affection.
“I know exactly how that feels,” I admitted honestly. I’d put my own parents through some serious bullshit in my lifetime.
Moments before I could ask what else I needed to know, Cassie’s smiling eyes turned from me to the window. “We’re here!” she declared, and for the first time since I’d decided to come along, I got a little nervous.
She shoved open the door and then turned back to me to put a hand on my arm. “Oh, one more thing.”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t curse in front of my parents at all. They fucking hate that.” She turned and scooted out the door and left me sputtering in the back seat.
My immobility didn’t last long, though, and I scrambled after her. “What?”
She booked it toward the door, but I chased her down in two long strides and turned her toward me. “What do you mean don’t curse?”
“I mean don’t curse,” she repeated, scrunching up her face in a fantastic display of you’re an idiot.
“Do you even know me at all?” I asked, and she laughed before patting me on the ass.