Dad didn’t know what to make of it, just stood in the hall, the grocery bags beside him. He chewed hard on a piece of pink gum, buying himself thinking time. “What was wrong with the internship you already had?” he asked.
“Nothing,” I said. “It was a good internship. But it was so last minute, and this way I don’t have to travel.”
My dad leaned down, picking up the spilled groceries and setting them on the kitchen table. “But you like traveling.”
I stood, tossing the pillow in my lap down on the sofa. “I never said I liked traveling. I’d probably have to travel to know if I liked it. Also, Matt’s not feeling well today. Make sure he drinks plenty of fluids.”
I knew it was a shitty way to deflect attention, but I couldn’t bring myself to care.
And then, like a coward, I fled the room.
Chapter 3
It took me two hours to decide on a denim mini and a blouse comprised of a pink silt tank top with a sheer outer layer. It was casual but sexy without trying too hard, just a peek of flesh to catch his eye. With a pair of black strappy sandals, he’d be staring at my legs all night.
I knew I was flirting with fire, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. I wanted him to want me. If all I ever got from Landon was the hottest sex of my life, I’d have to be satisfied with that. Even though I was still sore from earlier today, I wanted him again. And again and again and again.
I heard his car in the drive, and snagged my purse off the window seat in my room. Then I took the steps two by two.
Matt was still in the recliner, more than half asleep. His blanket had slid off his body, so I walked over and pull it up to his chest.
He looked more at peace like this, sleeping soundly. Like today’s incident had never occurred.
Like his diagnosis wasn’t even real.
I slipped out the front door just as Landon was walking up the front steps. He looked deadly handsome in a dark blue button-down, left open at the collar, along with dark indigo blue jeans and leather loafers. He belonged in New York or Paris, not our silly little town. There was no way they even sold his brands of clothing here.
“Hey,” I said, smiling up at him. I knew I should look at this as a casual date. As two people simply seeing each other. But I wanted it to be the first of many. The first of something.
“Ready?”
“Always,” I said, and then tried not to cringe. It sounded like I was always ready for him, like he could ravish me in the car on the way to our date and I’d be okay with it.
Not exactly untrue. I’d probably be okay with that.
Who the hell was I kidding? If he wanted to park at the end of a back road and pull me into his lap, I’d definitely be okay with that.
He walked to the car, holding the door open for me.
My eyes skimmed over the sleek lines of his car, and I froze. “Wait, is this the Nova?”
He grinned. “Maybe.”
“It looks amazing.”
“Yeah. A new paint job did wonders. That and a new fender.”
I snickered, trying to keep the heat from my cheeks and I dropped down into the car. The leather bucket seat curled around me, as if enveloping me. I waited as he walked around the car, dropping in beside me.
I slid my hand across the dash, surprised at the sleek, immaculate interior. The Nova I knew in high school had been beat up. “I know you said you kept it, but somehow I can’t believe I’m actually sitting in it. It’s been years.”
“Like I said, no one lets go of good American muscle. It’s like a fine wine; it only gets better with age.”
“And a paint job,” I quipped. Maybe it was the prospect of a real date, or of sitting in this car again, like I was seventeen and didn’t know how it would all end. But I was feeling lighter somehow, like we were at the beginning of something. Something more than a hook up.
I shoved away all my brother’s warnings, refusing to believe that I was just another girl to Landon.
He pulled out of the drive, hitting the valley highway. The engine was loud and throaty, the opposite of the quiet purr of his Audi. It rumbled beneath my feet, vibrating the floorboards.
“I told my brother and dad about the internship.”
Landon glanced over at me for only a moment before turning his attention back to the road. “Which one?”
Ha. A fair question. “Both of them.”
“And?”
I leaned back against the buttery-cream leather seat. “They weren’t happy.”
“Why?”
“Pretty sure they think you have ulterior motives.”
He glanced over at me, his gaze lingering, but unreadable. His eyes were hooded in shadow. “Would it matter if I did?”
His answer threw me off kilter. “Of course it would. This is my career, Landon. Not some passing fancy. The internship has to mean something.”
He shook his head, turning back to the road again as we rounded a hairpin turn. “Of course it means something for your career. I wouldn’t offer it to you if I didn’t think it would help you.”
“Then why are you acting like you do have ulterior motives?”