Do you know who I am?
I remember his question. I didn’t know the answer then, and I sure as fuck don’t know it now, so I shoot Mandy a questioning look.
“The Boyd brothers own a string of nightclubs,” Mandy explains to me in an excited whisper.
“That would be my brother, Cash. I’m just an investor,” Kellan says coolly and raises his eyebrows. “What’s someone from NYC doing around here?”
He’s an investor.
I barely have time to digest the news before Mandy opens her mouth. “We’re going to—”
“A road trip.” I shoot her a venomous look that instantly shuts her up. As much as I love Mandy, I will not give off the impression that I’m in Montana to visit a stupid gig. And most certainly not that I’m a fan, and most certainly not a groupie, no matter how many chicks out there think Mile High’s great.
Mandy replies with a shrug, as though it’s something we do all the time, “Montana’s always been at the top of my places to see before I die.”
Which is a blatant lie, but out of her mouth, it comes so smoothly even I almost believe her.
“Really?” Mr. Hot Guy—Kellan—doesn’t sound too convinced. “Judging from your shoes, I would have thought Club 69 was more your ambience.”
His statement sounds more accusatory than nonchalant. If I were Mandy, I’d feel insulted by the fact that he thinks he can judge me by the shoes I’m wearing. She might be more the urban type, and Club 69 is her ambience, but she has a huge heart for animals and the environment. She’s definitely not some airhead. It’s not something a nice guy would imply, but to my astonishment, Mandy just laughs and lets his comment slide.
Wait a sec!
What the fuck did he just say?
It takes a second or two for the penny to drop. I spin my head so quickly, a surge of pain shoots through my neck. I narrow my eyes to regard him, ignoring the fact that he’s staring at me with the same irritating frown on his face.
Club 69.
Mandy said the Boyd brothers own a string of nightclubs. His name is Kellan Boyd and he’s an investor. I might be jumping to conclusions, but that sounds like he’s an investor in his brother’s club.
Which would explain why he was driving away from the club on a Friday evening rather than arriving to party the night away.
I bite my lip hard, unsure how to respond.
Kellan keeps staring at me, one brow raised, as though he’s waiting for my confirmation that I know who he is. But it’s obvious from the knowing look in his magnetic eyes that he doesn’t need it. Maybe it’s a test to see whether I realize that he’s half-famous or something. His oversized ego probably demands that every woman on this planet know his name and pant it in her sleep. I may not know him, but the two encounters we’ve had so far have led me to draw my own conclusions of the kind of person he is.
Bedroom perfection.
Arrogant prick.
Every woman has that one guy she’d like to fuck.
Well, he’s mine. In my fantasies, that is.
However, I can’t deal with someone like him. He’s too confident. Too sexy. Too experienced. And he’ll see right through the fact that I’m deeply, truly, madly attracted to him, even though he’s absolutely not the kind of man I’d ever go for.
Ever.
I don’t want him to know that I couldn’t stop thinking about him.
“Do you like your drink?” he asks. His eyes are on me. It’s clear the question is directed at me.
“It’s good,” I say.
The sudden change in topic has made me wary. My tone doesn’t escape Mandy. Her gaze shifts from Kellan to me and then back to him, the big proverbial question mark etched on her forehead. It’ll only be a matter of time before she sees the connection, and when she realizes he’s the guy I told her about, she won’t be able to keep her mouth shut.
“I’m a huge fan of Club 69, by the way,” Mandy says. “I visited the new opening three months ago.”
“You did. Was she there, too?” Kellan asks with a glint of amusement in his eyes.
“No!” I exclaim.
“Yes,” Mandy says in that same moment, adding, “she drove me.”
“Makes sense. That’s why I remember her.” Kellan’s smile turns into a grin. “She looks just like someone whose car bumped into mine.”
I choke on my drink.
He can’t be serious!
“Really?” Mandy chimes in, giving me her you-didn’t-tell-me glare. Slowly, she leans forward in mock interest. “She didn’t mention—”
That he’s so hot.
I can almost see the thought written across her forehead.
“She didn’t mention my new Lamborghini?” Kellan cuts her off. His tone carries the annoying hint of fake surprise.
Mandy’s jaw drops. “You drive a Lamborghini?”
“Mandy, you’re not helping,” I mutter.
“I do.” Kellan nods, his eyes not leaving mine. “It cost me a few bucks to repair the chip she caused.”