Page 275 of Small Town Firsts

“What?”

“No, Emmalyn. I am not luring you away to kill you. I simply think we need to have a talk, and lunch seems like a good way to go about doing it.”

“Okay. Sure. When?”

Sinker.

“Now’s great for me.”

“Oh, um. Today. Wow. Um.”

“I know you don’t have any other classes today. I know you don’t have a job or internship. So, whatever bullshit excuse you’re concocting in that pretty little head of yours, save us both the trouble and don’t.”

Her eyes flare at my demanding tone, though with heat or shock, I can’t say.

“Okay.” She flexes her fingers, clutching and releasing the strap of her bag. She’s nervous, and the predator in me likes it. “Today is good.”

“Great. I’ll drive.”

“We’re... going off campus?” She gulps, and my eyes hone in on her delicate throat. My brain buzzes at the memory of how soft she is there, how sweet she tastes.

I give her a dull look. “Yes, Emmalyn. Surely you didn’t think I was taking you to the dining hall.” I rise from my desk and head for the door, not bothering to make sure she’s following. I know she is.

No one pays any mind as we traipse across the campus to the parking garage.

Her lips quirk up into a smile when the large structure comes into view. “Fancy.”

I roll my eyes but tell her, “You couldn’t pay me to park my baby out in the elements. The paint job’s custom.”

“Of course it is.” I grin as I make a big show of opening the door for her.

“It’s nice, I’ll give you that.” She skims her finger over the buttery leather of the seat before buckling her seat belt.

I stroll around to the driver’s side, but before I can open the door, my phone buzzes with another incoming text.

Sliding it out, I quickly check the screen. It’s Rob. Again.

Rob

Don’t fuck this up, Sterling.

Me

Just trust me, man.

I switch off my ringer, pocket my phone, and slide behind the wheel. “Ready?”

Emmalyn chuckles nervously. “As I’ll ever be.”

I find my attention divided for most of the drive. While I know Ineedto watch the winding mountain roads, Iwantto watch the woman riding shotgun in my F-Type Jag.

The way she squirms in the seat, the way she’s so careful not to look my way, the way she’s content to sit quietly rather than talk to me. All of these things combined only make me want to push her that much further.

But I’ll play nice. For now, anyway.

“Have you eaten here?” I ask, inclining my head toward our destination.

“Café on the Corner.” She reads the sign and then shakes her head no. “I haven’t really explored town much. I’ve mostly stayed on campus.”

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