“Careful?” The blues of his eyes almost disappear between the tight slits of his lids. “Why do you say that?”
Dammit, I’m fucking it all up!
My head is a jumble of shit, half scrambled from the kiss and half desperate for the right words. “Things are moving too fast.” I force myself to sound casual even though I’m feeling anything but. “You’ve saved me from a dark alley, kept me from slipping into a coma after I got cold-cocked by a biker, and rescued me from a supply room.”
Recognition clears some of the pain from his eyes at the mention of the supply room.
A small smile pulls at my lips. “All that and we haven’t even been on a date.”
The sides of his lips tick up, and he blinks away the last of the hurricane of emotion he wore on his face.
I tap my lips with my forefinger. “You know I’m pretty sure every good superhero takes the girl out after he rescues her.”
“That’s not true. You’re watching the wrong cartoons.”
“Yeah, you may be right, but in my fairytale he does. That would mean you’d owe me . . .” I make a show of counting on my fingers. “Does you saving me from Caleb count?”
He blinks and shakes his head. “I didn’t save you from Caleb.”
“Ah, but you will.” I lean forward to whisper, grateful to see that he leans in to listen rather than away. “I gave him your phone number instead of mine.”
He turns to me, and this time there’s no hint of a smile or shadow of humor. This time he’s grinning so big that I can see all his teeth and the cute way his eyes crinkle at the sides. “No shit?”
He falls back into his seat, his chin tilted high as the deep bass of his rolling laughter bounces around the truck cab. My eyes fall shut, and I allow myself a few seconds to bathe in the beauty of the sound. When I open them again, he’s still chuckling and looking straight ahead.
“Caleb’s going to be shocked when he calls to hear your sweet voice and gets mine.” With the truck still idling, he knocks it into drive.
Did he just call my voice sweet? My stomach flips and there’s a warm swell in my chest.
“Wait a minute.” He turns toward me. “How do you know my phone number?”
Uh-oh.
I clear my throat, thinking fast. “I uh . . . got it from Mario after the whole flat-tire thing. I was going to call you to apologize for . . . you know, but decided it needed to be done in person.”
“Really?”
No, I stole it from Mario six months ago and sometimes call just to hear your voicemail. “Yeah.” I give my most convincing smile.
He shrugs and doesn’t look too concerned about the fact that I not only have his phone number but that I also have it memorized.
“About that date.” He pulls out of Jonah’s long driveway and into the neighborhood. “Do you like rollercoasters?”
And with that simple question all the tension is gone. “Hell yeah, I do.”
~*~
Rex
That was close. I almost broke down and told Mac everything. Confessed that I have issues with sex and that I only hook up with sluts that’ll take what I give and then walk away and that I never hook up with a woman without alcohol as a barrier between what my body has to accomplish and how my thoughts respond. At least, until Mac.
Thank God she didn’t push the issue. I’m not sure why she didn’t. Instead, she diffused the whole conversation by redirecting it to our date.
She says I’m the one doing all the rescuing, but she took a hit for me once, and then another by changing the subject of our conversation.
“Are we going to the strip?” She looks out her side window to the Las Vegas landmark just off the freeway.
It’s not dark out, but even under the sun, the strip stands out against the bland desert backdrop.
“Yeah, I’ve ah . . . There’s a place I go to, and I thought you might like it.” My face heats at how awkward it feels to share this part of me with another person. I have two sides, the public side that acts for a crowd of screaming fans whether that’s from a stage or a cage and the darker side that I keep to myself. Most of the guys I’m close to have seen glimpses of my fucked-up psyche, and the few hookers I’ve paid for relief have witnessed the aftermath of it, but to willingly bring a person in on it? Yeah, this is new.
“Sounds intriguing.”
“I figure if you ride a motorcycle then you’re a bit of a thrill seeker. We’ll see how brave you are on Insanity.” I’m off the freeway and headed to the Stratosphere, which advertises the three most terrifying thrill rides in the world.
“Insanity? What is it?” She’s pressing her cheek up against the passenger-side window, trying to look up to the top of the casinos that are coming into view.
“It’s a ride that hangs you 1,000-feet high facing the street and spins you ’til you puke or pass out.” I bite down on my molars, waiting for the screaming girl freak out.
She turns to me, her eyes wide. Yep, here comes the freak out.
“Fuck yeah!” She bounces in her seat like a damn kid. “Let’s do it!”
What the hell? “Really? You’re down?”
“Are you kidding me?” Leaning forward, she looks up through the windshield. “Are we close?”
I point out my side window to the Stratosphere in the distance. “Over there.”
She crosses the center console with her torso in order to look out my window. The intoxicating tropical smell of her hair is so close I hold back the urge to grab a fistful and bury my nose in it.
Before I get the chance, she sits back in her seat. Her hand flies to her belly and she smiles. “I have butterflies.”
I’ve seen the tough side of Mac, the tomboy who jumps in front of bikers, the scared shitless side at being locked in a room alone, and even the softer side after a bad dream, but this side, the cute childlike excitement, is my favorite so far. There’s an innocence to her now that I envy—a carefree joy that I’ve only seen in others but can never remember feeling.
We pull up to the lobby of the Stratosphere. By the time I’m finished dealing with the valet, Mac’s already out and waiting for me by the doors. She’s grinning and bouncing on her toes.
“Let’s go.” I smile and grab her hand to lead her through the hotel casino, bypassing the ticket counter.
She pulls back against my hold, resisting. “Tickets.” She points to the sign that clearly states we need tickets to the tower and rides. “Don’t we need to buy them here first?”
“Nope.” I tug her hand and move toward the bank of elevators. “They know me here. I come a lot, so I pay monthly and they let me do whatever I want.”
She stops us again. “Oh, well here.” Reaching into the small purse she has hung diagonally from one shoulder to her hip, she pulls out some cash.
I shake my head. “Not takin’ your money, Mac. Put that shit away.”
“No, it’s okay.” She shakes the wad of green at me. “Take it. You don’t have to pay—”
I cup her jaw, pressing my thumb against her lips. Fuck, just the feel of them on my finger makes me want to taste them again, but I need to keep this friendly, more for her sake than mine. “Shhhh. Please, no more talk of you paying.”
She nods and puts her money away.
“Atta girl.” It takes all my effort to pull my hand from her face to avoid getting lost in her wide eyes, which are begging for more. Fuck, I need to reel in my shit. A few moments of silence pass between us.
We move again toward the elevator, but a few yards away, she stops again. What now?
“Mac.” I turn toward her to see her cheeks flushed and her eyes wide and fixed on the elevator doors.
“What is that?” Her hand in mine is clammy.
“Elevators to the top. That’s where the rides are.”