Page 128 of I'm Your Guy
FORTY-SIX
Carter
“I’m kind of tipsy,” I admit from the passenger seat of my car.
“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”
I think it over. “Well, both. It’s a good thing you offered to be the driver, because I don’t think you could have fit in this seat.”
“Hmm,” he says mildly.
I’m right about this, though. My legs are draped awkwardly over the sewing machine. Everything I own is in this car. It’s ridiculous.
“On the other hand, I’m ridiculous,” I confess, because he might as well know. “You just told a ridiculous person that you love him. And now you can’t take it back.”
He chuckles. “I’ve never seen you drunk before. It’s cute.”
“It’s not cute. I have no tolerance anymore, because I have no money to drink. I have no money to drink because I’m broke. And broke ain’t very cute.”
“Yeah, you’re in a rough patch,” he says. “We’ve covered this.”
“Last week I ran into my ex at Home Warehouse. Macklin. He’s kind of a jerk. But he said I’m always looking for a man to rescue me.”
“Abrupt segue,” Tommaso says. “But I’ll roll with it. Why did your ex feel like bringing that up in a big box store?”
“Um…” I try to think. “He was working there to get his life back on track. I said he’d abandoned me. He said I’d abandoned him to our horrible client. And that I don’t solve my own problems and always look for a man to do it for me.”
“Huh,” he says. Then he reaches over and places a firm hand on my knee. “On the other hand, you’ve solved a lot of problems for me. Some of them I didn’t even know I had. So doesn’t that make it fair?”
“But you paid me for that. Paid me well, too.”
“Yes and no.” He shrugs. “No other designer would have taken such good care of me. I was so apathetic. But you made me care. You insisted, Carter. You showed me another way to think about my life.”
Wow. That seems like an exaggerated version of events. “We had really good sex,” I point out. “I think that’s why you’re saying this.”
He laughs. “Don’t cheapen my heartfelt speech, Montana. The sex was important. But it wasn’t everything. Not by a mile.”
“But you haven’t even banged me yet.”
“Am I going to?” Stepping on the brake for a stop sign, he turns his chin and gives me a searing look.
“Of course,” I say. “Obviously. Every time I see you in a suit, I just want you to bend me over the nearest piece of designer furniture.”
He gives me a wolfish grin, looks both ways, and accelerates onto the highway ramp.
“We’re going pretty fast,” I say, as we leave Denver behind.
“I’m very motivated to get home now,” he says.
* * *
“Carter.”
I press my eyes shut. It’s been a long day of uncertainty.
“Carter, I could carry you into the house, but it would be more fun for both of us if you walked.”
Tommaso.
