Three #2
Zac leads me out through a back door that opens to a carpark.
Grabbing my hand, he takes me over to the passenger side of the closest car to the door—well, at least I think it’s a car.
It’s shiny, black and has wheels, so it must be a car, right?
Zac presses a button on the door, which has the door automatically opening out and then up.
Okay, so definitely not an ordinary car.
“Get in,” he grumbles.
I tentatively duck into the car, turning to him. “You know, you really don’t need to drive me. I can find my way home.”
He silently presses a button on the door, and suddenly I’m closed inside what is no doubt the fanciest car I’ve ever seen.
I’m too frightened to move, on the off chance I dirty or break something.
Sitting there frozen, I watch as Zac makes his way around the front of the car before climbing into the driver’s side.
He shuts his door, turns the car on and then turns and looks at me like he’s waiting for something. He doesn’t say anything for a minute, and I squirm under his stare, not knowing what he’s waiting for.
Unable to handle the intensity of his silent quest, I hesitantly try to break the silence. “Umm, so…” That’s about as intelligent of a sentence I can put together right now.
“Buckle up, sunshine. It’s a fast ride,” he says as he reaches over, putting my seat belt on for me. I can feel the heat rise up my neck and reach my face as he plugs the seat belt in.
Zac takes off out of the carpark and into the easy Saturday morning city traffic. Saturday morning.
“Oh, shit,” I mumble under my breath as I dig through my clutch for my phone to find out what the time is and how late I will be for my shift today. “Dammit!” My phone would choose this moment to be dead flat.
“What’s wrong?” Zac questions with a deeply concerned look on his face.
“What time is it?” I attempt in the calmest voice I can muster, externally hoping to appear cool, calm, and collected.
Internally, I’m a freaking mess, considering the worst possible scenarios.
I’m late. I’m getting fired. I’m going to be jobless and homeless within the month.
Maybe I’m being the glass is half empty kind of girl, but when you had the childhood I had, the glass is never half full.
Zac looks at the gold watch on his wrist, before looking back across at me. “It’s 9:15.”
9:15 a.m. Not so bad… I’m mentally calculating the amount of time I need to get home, shower, and hike to the station. If I hurry, I can probably make the 10:15 train, which will get me to work at around 11:30.
“Fudge it, can this Batmobile of yours go any faster?” I plead.
“Batmobile?” he repeats, laughing a little. “This beauty…” He taps the steering wheel with pride. “…is a McLaren 570S. Yes, it goes faster.”
“Well, do you think you can make this beauty go faster and get me home as quickly as you can?” I’m trying hard not to come across as panicked, but, by the look on his face, I don’t think it’s working.
“Look, if I’m going to go about breaking every road rule in the book, I need to know why you’re in such a rush to get home?
” He makes a scene of sniffing himself. “I showered while you were passed out on my couch, so I know it’s not because I stink that you’re in such a rush to get home, so what is it? ”
Wow, just wow. Well, here it goes. Try not to sound desperate in front of the hot guy, Lyssa.
I give myself a mental pep talk before admitting just how desperate I am.
“You don’t stink. I’m late. I have to be at work at 11:00.
I need to get home. I need to shower, then I need to make the trek to the station—it’s at least a forty-minute train ride to work.
I can’t be late… Oh god, I cannot be late!
” Well, I think I totally came across as every bit as cool and collected as I was aiming for, right? Yeah, probably not.
“Sunshine, breathe. It’s okay. I gotcha. I’ll get you home in no time. Hold on.” Zac cruises through the streets, weaving in and out of traffic a little faster. He reaches over and gives my hand a little squeeze before turning his gaze back to the road.
I’m momentarily stunned by the electricity I feel run up my arm from his touch.
I look at him, his muscles stretching out the black V-neck, his forearms tensing as he grips the steering wheel…
damn. Unintentionally, I squeeze my legs together and suppress the moan that wants to escape.
What the hell is wrong with me? This handsome stranger is nice enough to give me a lift home and all I can think about is jumping his bones.
I hear him curse under his breath. “Where do you work?” he asks, obviously trying to distract me with small talk.
Could this moment get any more embarrassing?
It’s obvious he knows I was checking him out.
“I work at RNS. I’m a nurse in emergency,” I say with pride.
Zac looks over and smiles briefly, before masking his face again.
“You should take the day off. You were drugged last night, remember?” he almost grunts out.
“I’m fine. I’m not taking the day off.” We’re turning onto my street when I realise I never gave him my address.
“Umm, how did you know where I lived?” Zac looks over at me, supplying me with that GQ smile of his, and says, “I saw your address on your licence last night.” As we turn into my street, he looks at the block of townhouses. “Which one is yours?”
I point out my townhouse. “That one, but you can just stop here and I’ll jump out. Thanks for the ride, and everything else.”
Zac looks at me and shakes his head before pulling into a carpark and turning the car off. He gets out of the car and is around at my door before I can even comprehend what’s happening. Zac opens my door, holding his hand out to help me out of the car.
I take his hand and the moment I do, I feel it again, that zap of electricity. Once I’m out of the car and have collected myself, I remove my hand.
“Thank you,” I whisper as I walk towards my door. It’s not until I get to the top step that I notice that Zac followed me to the door. Turning around, I squint at him. “Umm, what are you doing?”
He takes a moment, looking me over before answering. “First, I’m walking you to your door. Second, I’m waiting for you to shower and get ready for work so I can drop you off at the hospital.”
I’m not really sure what is happening. Did I wake up in an alternative universe today? I pinch my arm. Okay, so I’m not dreaming, but I sure do look a little unstable to Mr. GQ in front of me.
“Why would you want to drive me to work?” I question. It’s been my experience that people don’t do anything expecting nothing in return.
“You’re running late. You said you were planning on catching a train. Trains are not safe, and you would still be late. I can get you there in half the time, but you might want to get moving on that shower if you want to make it to work on time.”
He’s right—I know he’s right—but it doesn’t mean I have to be happy about it. Grumbling, I turn and open the door, before adding, “I’m only letting you give me a lift in the Batmobile because I really, really don’t want to be late. You can wait on the couch.”
He smirks and laughs as he follows me inside.
I point to the sofa. “You can wait here. I’m just going to run upstairs and shower real quick.”