Chapter 3 #2
He holds the door firmly in his hand and grins while looking down. Glancing left and then right before his eyes return to mine, he kneels in front of me. “It’s my car, Marina. I called it, but I’m happy to give you a ride wherever you’d like to go.”
I look at the driver, who has climbed into the driver’s seat. He nods, and a wave of embarrassment washes through me. I throw a foot out, but Cash stands, effectively blocking me from exiting the vehicle. “Please,” he says, lowering his voice. “We can ride together.”
“There is no we in this scenario. There’s me going to dinner with my family and you going wherever someone like you goes at night.”
“Someone like me?” He chuckles. “Why do you make me sound so seedy? I’m simply going to dinner. Just like you.”
“Except somewhere else.” I push against his bicep, which is unwavering against my best efforts. “Are you kidnapping me, or are you going to let me out?”
A grin splits his cheeks, and then he says, “Sorry to be the bearer of bad news—”
“Why do I get the distinct impression that you’re not sorry to bear any bad news to me?”
“I’m not as horrible as you seem to think I am.”
“I’m going to need references for that before I change my mind when it comes to you.”
He’s still smirking, basically looking devilishly hot, and I’m not referring to the Miami heat, though that’s a thing that’s making me sweat. Or him. My body is in a state of confusion around this man. Super frustrating. He says, “I’ll let you talk to your brothers regarding my nature.”
“The press sure does love you.”
“By love, you mean hate, and that’s fair to throw in my face. I’ve made mistakes, but I own them.”
“As much fun as this is,” I deadpan, although I’m snacking on every interesting tidbit he feeds me. I check the time on my phone. “I’m now late for dinner.”
“We should go, then.” He maneuvers down and starts sliding in.
I move or get sat on, so I slip across the seat to the other side. “Fine.” I cross my arms over my chest in protest. “But you’re dropping me off first.”
As soon as he shuts the door, the car pulls away from the hotel. “You got it, babe.”
I glance back through the back window, realizing the last of my sanity was left under the hotel carport. Turning my eyes to the cracked screen of my phone, I tap lightly, hoping it works until I can get back to Canada to buy a new one.
I sit back, watching the world pass by outside, and release a breath that had been weighing on my chest.
“Is it that bad?”
Angling my head to face him, I ask, “Is what that bad?”
“Sharing a car with me?”
I could stick it to him by saying something snarky, but I ease up, already tiring of the fight. “I have a lot going on.”
“We all do.”
Annoyance wrecks my composure, and I roll my eyes. “I get that, but you asked me specifically if sharing a car with you was bad.” Waving my hand between us, I add, “I was simply saying it’s not only about you. I have other stuff going on in my life, and you just are the cherry on top.”
“Normally, I’d take it as a compliment.” Leveling my gaze on him, I stare while he continues, “Since you don’t seem to be having a good night, or day, week, maybe month, I’ll let it slide.”
“You’re too kind.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
I balk. “To you?” Shaking my head before the words have time to escape, I reply, “Thanks, but I’d rather let it fester inside and eat me alive.”
I’m left sitting here expecting a great comeback when he just turns away from me and directs his attention out the window. Slow blinking several times, I finally turn to look out my window as well.
When the car pulls up to the restaurant, Cash gets out and holds the door for me. He even offers a hand when I step onto the curb, which I don’t take. “Well, thanks for the ride.”
He shuts the door, but he’s not inside the car. “You’re welcome.”
Crinkling my forehead, I say, “You can go now.”
“Thanks for the permission.” He walks past me and opens the door to the restaurant.
“You’re eating here?”
“Guess you didn’t get the memo or, more specifically, the text.” He flashes a text thread in my direction. I barely catch Harbor’s name at the top before the screen darkens, though.
“Wait, what memo was that?”
“The one that invited me to dinner with the owners and family tonight.”
“Are you freaking kidding me right now?”
“No.” Nodding toward the inside, he asks, “You coming?”
Begrudgingly, I walk toward him and hold my phone up as I go inside. “My phone is broken, remember.”
“The screen is cracked, but I still saw you playing on it.”
“I wasn’t playing on my phone.” Waving my hand around on my wrist, I reply, “Anyway, potato. Potahto.”
It’s the first time I see somewhat of a genuine smile.
Naturally, I find it maddening how flattering it is across his face.
I’ll give credit where it’s due, though.
God gifted this man with more than talent on the racetrack.
He can be as attractive as he wants and ridiculously appealing, but he’s still . . . him.
He chuckles, finding me so amusing. I don’t feel the same about him. Cash Ryatt is a thorn in my side, and now I have the great misfortune of dining with the jerk himself. Oh yay . . .
“I’ll go if you want me to,” he says. “I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”
“Really?” Maybe a tiger can change its stripes.
“No, I was invited, and I can’t wait to watch you squirm all night.” He walks to the host stand, leaving me to my own devices, which are currently shooting imaginary daggers into his back.
He checks us in, and we’re led through the restaurant toward an arched doorway at the back.
The lights are dimmer in the room ahead, but candles light the way when we get closer.
My mom’s laughter reaches my ears before my eyes have adjusted to the low lighting.
He stops, and as soon as I make eye contact, he whispers, “Isn’t this romantic for our first date? ”
I harden my gaze on my target. “Let me be very clear. This is not a date.”
“If you say so.”
“I most definitely say so.”
He shrugs like he’s not on board with my threat.
“Marina. Cash?” Harbor stands to greet us while his gaze darts between us. “You made it.”
“We made it,” I reply humorlessly, though I’d love to share how I really feel about this situation. I sit between my mom and Noah, and Cash settles between Loch and my dad. “Isn’t this just so cozy?”
Cash winks at me . . . friggin’ winks at me in front of my family like he’s the guest of honor who does as he pleases.
Adding salt to my already salty attitude, he sits across from me.
Of all the places . . . That makes it a lot harder to block him out, and I foolishly make the first mistake of looking up.
“Hungry?” he asks with a smug-ass grin settled on his face. “Because I’m starved.” Nothing about his tone sounds like he’s referring to food. Oh, so now we’re supposed to be flirting?
I don’t think so, mister!
Although the innuendo is wholly inappropriate—considering we’re surrounded by not only my family but also his bosses—Cash Ryatt’s dulcet tones speak straight to my core.
I take the wineglass as soon as it’s filled, though, and gulp a solid fourth of it in response.
Keeping the glass in hand, I look right at him this time and grin because two can play this game. “Let’s eat.”