Chapter 5
five
GENEVA
I think I really did break Peter. He keeps giving me nervous side-eyes. He’s always been a little leery around me, but this is beyond that. Does he really think I’ll jump him in the middle of the California desert? Will I?
It’s not a bad plan. But not when he looks like he’s about to bolt. This is more of a game of cat and mouse, and I need to sharpen my claws first.
“How are you feeling?” I ask to break the silence. “Sore?”
“A little. How’s your ankle?”
“Same,” I admit. Some of the swelling is gone, but a nasty bruise wraps around it.
“Let me have your foot.” I move my foot to his lap. “Maybe if it stays elevated, it’ll help.” His hand mindlessly traces over the bruise. I don’t hate the feeling. He has large, strong hands that never fail to render me into jelly when they touch me.
“Hang on, let me grab something to entertain us.” Pulling my foot out of his lap, I swing onto my knees to peer into the back seat. I grab some of the magazines and puzzle books before falling back into the passenger seat. Peter’s gripping the steering wheel so tight his knuckles are white. Yeah, I know what my ass in his face does to him.
“Okay there?” He ignores me, and I slide my foot back into his lap. He lays his hand on it, continuing the slow circles. I doubt he even realizes what he’s doing.
“Here we go,” I say, opening the first magazine on my lap. “Do you have a type?” I flip to the page number of the survey. I bet he throws this copy of Cosmo into the trash next time we stop.
“Type of what?” he asks.
“Good try. First question.” He groans. “Do you use dating to find what you want in a partner or what you don’t want?”
“I…” He stops to think about the question. “I don’t know. I’ve gone on dates where we had nothing to talk about and some where it was all just talk. I didn’t find either woman physically desirable. That makes me sound horrible, doesn’t it?”
“No, I get it. So do you want her to be similar to you or different?”
“Different. I think I’d get bored if she were just like me. I already have two sisters that are similar to me, I don’t want a partner that is also. They do say opposites attract. Just so she’s not so different that I can’t relate to anything in her life.”
“Interesting,” I say. “Is that why your apartment is a revolving door of women?”
“Believe it or not, I’m not the manwhore that my reputation suggests. I think Rand started those rumors to make me more interesting.”
“One of the people in HR told me that the first time. I heard you had a three-way.” Even I know that one was totally fabricated, but why not throw that out there to see if he bites?
“From who?” He stares at me in horror. For a moment, I worry we’ll wreck. He shakes his head and returns his attention back to the road. “That’s ridiculous.”
“Is it though?” He glares at me again, so I move on. “So do you have a list of deal breakers or must-haves?”
“Do you?” he asks.
“Absolutely. It occupies several volumes.”
“Such as?”
“To start, he has to be taller than I am. It’s not fair, but there it is. I also don’t like bro guys that still act like they’re at an endless frat party even though they’re in their forties. But I don’t want an asshole billionaire who believes the world revolves around him. No sports fanatics. I can do an occasional Sunday football game, but I’m not doing every date night eating wings in a bar.”
“That’s quite the list.” He smiles at me.
“There’s more. He can’t live with his mom unless she’s elderly and infirm. No fast food or movies on the first date. He has to own a vehicle, pay for the first date, and no farting during sex.”
“Damn. What if it just sneaks out?”
“Deal-breaker. I’m not fooling myself; I know he’s going to fart all the time when we get married. There’s no reason to start early in the relationship.”
He laughs. I have to join in. It is kind of a ridiculous list.
“What about must-haves?”
“I’ve already said he has to be taller,” I say. “He has to have manners. Chewing with his mouth open is also a deal-breaker. Open doors, shit like that. Absolutely has to be employed in a career that requires some ambition. Oh, and he also has to worship the ground I walk on.”
Peter laughs again. He pulls into the parking lot of a diner. Stopping in a parking place near the door, he turns off the SUV.
“How about some lunch, your grace?”
“Now you’re getting the hang of it.”
Lunch turns out to be better than the exterior of the building would suggest. I order a vegan wrap that includes ample avocado. Peter gets a burger with everything. We continue our discussion from the car at length until our food arrives. The conclusion we come to is this: Peter has no type, and I like, well, men like Peter. I didn’t really need a quiz to tell me that.
“How much farther do we have to drive?” I ask, stretching beside the car. My body is starting to protest missing my daily workout.
“We’re not even to Bakersfield yet. It’ll be dark by the time we make it to Vegas.”
“Did you say Vegas?” Did my ears deceive me? I could swear he mentioned the most sinfully awesome playground in the western United States. I’ve gotten into so much trouble in Las Vegas in the past it’s a wonder I’m still alive. But I’ll never tell. What happens there stays there, as did the bendy circus acrobat I hooked up with once.
“I thought we’d stay a couple of nights. Recoup from our climb.”
“What a brilliant idea.” It’s all I can do to stop myself from rubbing my hands together in glee. My mind starts spinning with all the possibilities of things we can do. “Do you want me to drive for a while?”
“I’m good, but thanks.”
He climbs into the SUV, and I join him, placing my foot in his lap once again.
I wonder how good Peter is at gambling. He has a brilliant mind for numbers, so there’s a chance we could leave Vegas richer than when we arrived. Our best bet is in the high rollers area. It costs more to buy in, but the profits are also much larger.
“Do you mind if I close my eyes for a little while?” I’m going to need to rest up if I’m going to make it tonight. There will be no time once we hit town.
I’ve got to secure us appropriate clothes, apply for the high roller area, and convince Peter to play. The latter shouldn’t be hard to do. I have just the cut of dress in mind to convince him.
“Of course not. Here.” He reaches behind him and pulls a pillow and blanket from somewhere. The man really does think of everything. Ten bucks says he was a Boy Scout. I search my mind for any memory of him in a khaki uniform when we were young. All I remember is the private school uniform he looked delicious in.
Curling up on the seat, I pull the blanket up to my chin. Soft music starts on the radio as I drift off. Tonight is going to be epic.
* * *
PETER
Geneva really is beautiful when she sleeps. I know that sounds creepy. The first time I watched her sleep, we were fifteen and fourteen. Her father had flown into a rage over something Rand had supposedly done. I was visiting over break at the time. We fled into the boathouse to hide and wound up staying all night.
I was so terrified he’d find us that I stayed awake. It was the first time I saw him strike my best friend. It’s something I’ve never forgotten. When Rand went to work for him after college, I followed him. The thought of their father continuing to terrorize them was more than I could let pass. I’ve hovered around ever since.
As far as I know, Geneva’s father has never struck her. I would kill him if he did. Instead, most of his wrath was saved for his son. He didn’t know what to do with me when I stepped between them.
My brother said I was too invested in their welfare. But what else could I do? My family didn’t act like that. I couldn’t walk away from that situation.
It took a lot of convincing to talk Geneva into leaving her father’s company. I think she held to the conviction that the devil you know is better than the unknown. She needs to embrace the unknown.
She’s too smart to be relegated to the sidelines where her father thought she belonged just because she was born female. Geneva can do anything she sets her mind to. Usually better than the rest of us.
I’m a little worried about the gleam in her eyes when I mentioned stopping in Las Vegas. I know she’s spent several long weekends there over the years. I try not to think about what mischief she got into. Or what mischief she plans for us. Whatever is swirling in that pretty head of hers will be outrageous. With any luck, there will be no tigers or face tattoos involved.
We travel like this for miles. She’s stretched across the front with her feet resting in my lap. Her dark hair is in a braid that reaches to the small of her back. Her small hands are tucked under her cheek. They can be lethal in the sparring ring when they need to.
Her legs are encased in skin-tight leggings. They go on for miles when she’s dressed up for a formal event. In the sky-high heels she wears, she’s almost my height.
“Are you watching me?” she asks in a sleepy voice.
“Just checking on you.”
“You’re always checking on me.” She rearranges her pillow. “Ever since we were in the boathouse.”
“I didn’t think you’d remember that.”
“How can I not?” I tuck the blanket tighter over her feet. “Pressed between you and Rand, it was the first time I felt truly safe.”
She drifts back to sleep, and I focus on the road in front of me. If I don’t, I might pull over and drag her into my lap. That’s all I’ve ever wanted for her. To feel safe. Happy. It’s why Rand trusts me to take care of her. We want the same thing.
The miles tick away under us. With each mile, I fall harder for Geneva. How can I not? A hole opens in my heart that I wish she could fill. But her trust in me has to come at a price. I can’t lose what we have. My friendship with her and her brother is too sacred to mess up.
“Hey, sweetheart. We’re almost there,” I say, rousing her from sleep. We’re on the outskirts of Las Vegas.
“Really?” She stretches her arms above her head. A thin strip of skin between her shirt and leggings captures my attention. “How long was I out?”
“A couple of hours.”
“I must have really needed some rest,” she says. “All the packing wore me out, I guess.” She sits up as we roll through the suburbs. “I love the lights.”
The lights are about the only thing I like about this town, although I’ve never spent much time here. I grew up in a small town in Virginia. Las Vegas was always just a fictional world on television. Rand insisted we spend my twenty-first birthday here, but it wasn’t for me. All the drinking and lap dances just left me feeling empty.
Not that I’m a prude. I like to drink and dance as much as the next guy. In moderation. Too much of anything isn’t fun. I woke up the morning after my birthday in a strange place with a strange person. It was my first and last walk of shame.
“I can’t wait to see where we’re staying,” Geneva says, interrupting my thoughts. “I hope you’re up for an adventure.”
“Why? What do you have in mind?”
“Nothing you can’t handle.” She smiles. “Don’t worry, Peter. I’ll be gentle on you.”
That’s what worries me most. Vicious Geneva I can handle. Gentle Geneva? I’ve not seen that side very often. It terrifies me. I just pray there are no random babies involved.
“You know we still have to be in Austin in a week, right?” I ask.
“You worry too much.” She shakes her head. “Austin’s a world away. I say live in the moment.”
Lord, help me.