I cross my arms. “You have a concussion.”
“I’m fine,” he assures me.
“Well, so am I.”
I see it, right there in the corner of his mouth, the tiniest hint of a smile, and I commit to being as pleasant as possible for the entirety of the twenty-minute drive.
Until I see his car.
“What the fuck is this?”
“An Audi RS Five Sportback.” Smiling, he rubs his chest, like this car is his pride and joy. “Fully loaded.”
“That’s, like, a sixty-thousand-dollar car.” I’m borderline screaming.
“Ninety-four,” he murmurs.
“Garrett!” Definitely screaming. “I can’t drive this!”
He opens the door for me. “You’ll be fine.”
“Fine,” I mimic on a choked laugh. “Fine, he says. Ha.”
Hand pressed to my lower back, he guides me forward. “Get in the car, Jennie.”
I do, but with a groan. My seat rocks back and forth with jerking movements as I fiddle with the buttons, adjusting the position. “I don’t know what I’m doing. Why isn’t this working?” I throw my arms up. “See? Even your car doesn’t want me driving.”
Garrett chuckles, crouching down to fix the seat for me, peering at me from beneath stupidly thick eyelashes. “Good?” he asks quietly.
I grip the steering wheel, averting my gaze. “Uh-huh.”
“All righty.” He climbs in beside me. “Let’s go.”
And go I do, the car rocketing forward as I squeal, and I slam on the brakes at the end of the long driveway, Garrett catching himself on the dashboard, toque flying off his head.
“Jesus fuck.” Wide eyes meet mine, and the fear is so, so real. “What the hell was that?”
“I haven’t driven in a while! I get anxious in the snow!”
“We’re not even on the road yet!”
“I know!”
He studies me for a long moment before his teeth nab his lower lip, stopping his laugh. “Just take it nice and slow. We’ll be fine.” Relaxing in his seat, he closes his eyes and sighs. “And don’t crash my car, or you’ll be working it off however I deem fit.”
My jaw hangs.
He cracks one lid and a sleepy smile. “Just kidding.”
The ride home is quiet and peaceful. Five minutes in, I think Garrett’s fallen asleep. His legs are spread wide, long arms between them, head thrown back on the rest, and he hasn’t made a single sound. Bad idea. Don’t I need supervision?
My favorite song comes over the stereo system, and even though I fucked my ankle during it only hours ago while Simon tried to forever ruin this song for me, I hum along quietly, singing the words under my breath. “With you I’m safe…” I glance over my shoulder before shifting lanes, approaching the parking garage. “We’re fall—” Jaw clamping, I blush when I catch Garrett’s eyes on me. “Sorry.”
He doesn’t say anything, just reaches over me, getting up in my space. My skin sizzles without permission, and my heartbeat drops between my thighs, because he’s hot as balls and he smells nice and he’s so close. But all he does is press the button on the visor above my head, making the garage door spring open.
“Over there,” he murmurs, pointing. “Ninety-seven.”
I pull into the spot and cut the engine. Garrett tows his equipment from the trunk, and it’s not until he opens my door and offers me his hand that I realize I’ve just been sitting, watching.
I slip my hand into his. It’s big and warm and swallows mine up for only a moment.
He trails behind me, and I hiss in agony as I climb the single step to the walkway, where the elevator is. His hand touches my lower back as he guides me into the elevator, and something hot unravels inside me as he stands opposite me, studying.
“What happened? To your ankle?”
“Oh, I…” I stick my foot out, moving it in a slow circle, and grit my teeth at the tenderness while I search for a lie. “Just tripped over my bag at school today.”
He hums lowly, a clear indication he thinks it’s bullshit, but he doesn’t push.
The elevator stops on my floor, and I give Garrett a small wave.
He follows me.
“Where are you going?” I look to the door across the hall, and annoyance prickles my nape. He’s got a concussion for fuck’s sake. But hey: “Maybe she’ll dress up and play nurse.”
His brows lift at the bite in my tone. “Just walking you to your door, sunshine.”
“Oh. Oops.”
“Yeah. Oops.” Silence stretches. “Thanks for driving me home.”
“Yeah. Of course. If you need anything, help or whatever…you know where I am.”
“Thanks, Jennie. Just gonna take a swim and head to bed. I’ll be fine.”
“A swim?” A prop a fist on my hip. “Didn’t the doctor tell you to take it easy? No working out.”
“It’s not a workout.”
“Swimming is physical activity that accelerates your heartbeat. It is a workout, you pylon.”
His lips quirk. “Did you just call me a pylon?”
“Yeah, well, this isn’t one of your brightest ideas.” My hip juts with attitude; I’ve always had a fuckton of it. “What if something happens while you’re in the water?”
He sighs, slipping a hand under his toque to scratch his head. “Look, Jennie, I feel fine. It’s a precaution more than anything. I’m not gonna do any vigorous swimming. I just wanna relax a bit, loosen my muscles.” At my crossed arms and pursed lips, he grins. “If you’re so concerned, why don’t you come with me?”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” I snap.
I don’t catch his response. He mutters it from behind the hand he scrubs over his mouth, but half-naked, hard, and gonna kill me are definitely part of it.
“Look at it this way: Carter wanted me to be your babysitter, now you can be mine. We don’t have to talk. C’mon, Jennie. I won’t be long.”
I huff, unlocking my door, then spin back to him. “Wait a second. We have a pool?”
“Across from the gym.”
“We have a gym?”
“For the top two floors,” he admits sheepishly, then grins. “I can give you my code so you can use them whenever you want.”
“You’re damn right you’re giving me that code.” I prop the door open with my hip. “I have to get changed. Want to wait in here?”
The way his face lights up at the simplicity of me accepting his offer makes me wonder if he craves company the same way I do. “You’re coming?”
If I’m being honest, I absolutely want to see him mostly naked and soaking wet. A mental flickpick I can file away in my Flickapedia for future usage.
Like tonight.
Yes, I’m 100 percent gonna flick it to the image of Garrett Andersen. Sue me.
“Well, duh, Garrett. I don’t want you to drown.”
CHAPTER 7
WE GET IT; YOU’RE HOT
JENNIE
Should I pay attention to the glaring neon sign in my head, the one blinking BAD IDEA!?
Maybe.
Ideally.
Am I going to though? Pfft. Don’t be ridiculous.
When I step out of my bedroom, Garrett’s shocked stare lands on me. “What the hell are you wearing?”
“What, this?” Fluffy, microfleece robe between my fingers, I spin. “My robe and slippers.”
Not sure what reaction I expected, but it wasn’t him keeled over, slapping his knee while howling with laughter.
“You look like my mom,” he chokes out. He points at my outfit, my robe covered in ballerina dogs, my dog slippers with floppy ears, and opens his mouth. Instead of speaking, he shakes his head and laughs again, loud, obnoxious, and irritating. “Holy fuck.”
“Yeah, well, your mom must be hot as hell then.” I stomp by, chucking the hat he left here post–dildo debacle at his head. “Here’s your hat, Gare-Bear.”
He cackles some more, following as I strut to the elevator.
If I thought my condo was incredible, it’s nothing compared to Garrett’s. His penthouse is flawless, open and sprawling, a breathtaking mix of old industrial and modern, with high exposed ceilings, brick walls, and slate marble counters. With the east-facing wall made entirely of glass, he must get amazing natural light and one hell of a sunrise.
“Ready?”