Page 63 of Slumming It
And I truly would be alone in every way that mattered. No doubt aboutthat.
If Reese Murdock were a different kind of guy, I might've had the comfort of knowing that someone would have my back if things got ugly. Buthewouldn't.
The kind of guy who leaves a girl alone on the roadside wouldn’t think twice about abandoning her at some club.
And even if he didn't abandon me outright, he would never stick up for me. Probably, he'd act like my old boyfriend Curtis and join in the fun of ridiculing me for my inappropriate clothing and heaven-knows-what else.
The thoughtwasn'tcomforting.
In the driver's seat, Reese Murdock said, "If you're gonna throw up, do it now."
What?I turned to stare at him. "I'm not gonna throw-up."
He looked far from convinced. "Could've fooled me."
I gave him a thin smile. "So you'd rather have me throw up in your car than in the club?"
He didn't hesitate. "Yup."
I didn't believe this for one minute. It's not like we were riding in my beat-up clunker. "Oh, I'm sure your car would lovethat."
"The car's a machine," he said. "It doesn't love or hate. It just is."
"Oh, like you?" But as soon as I said it, I wanted to take it back – not because it wasn't true, but because the subjects of love and hate seemed far too dangerous to discuss with somebody like him. Quickly, I added, "Sorry. Bad joke."
With no trace of amusement, he said, "I'm no machine."
This was only half true. Yes, he was made of flesh and blood, but that machine comment wasn't withoutsomeprecedent. According to the gossip blogs, one of his previous sex-partners had called him a royal fuck machine that always delivered.
I felt a frown tug at my lips. Curtis never delivered, not even once.
Absently, I replied, "Yeah, I'm not a machine either. But Idolike your car. It's way too nice to barf in."
Good Lord.
Had I really just said that?
"Hey, you could always aim for the window." With a smirk in his voice, he added, "Of course, you might want to roll it down first."
I stifled a sigh. Sonowhe was amused?
But I hadn't been lying about the car. The Ferrari reallywasamazing – even more amazing than the yellow sportscar that I'd ridden in yesterday.
This morning, I'd spent a good half-hour browsing Reese Murdock's car collection on the internet. Andwhy? It was because like a total Pollyanna, I'd had this crazy notion that maybe the yellow car belonged to him and that he'd sent that woman to pick me up.
Yes, the idea was laughable, but in general, I was an optimist about human nature. Before learning otherwise, I'd thought that maybe some tiny part of Reese Murdock might actually be human. Of course, that tiny part wouldn't be his cock, becausethatwas rumored to be massive.
Damn it.
Think about the car, not his body.
On the internet, I'd seen no yellow sportscar. This shouldn't have been a surprise, but itwasdisappointing. And yet, the more I thought about it, the more I realized how ridiculous my theory had been.
I mean, why would he drive off alone just to have somebody else pick me up?
He wouldn’t.The jerk.
Unable to resist goading him, I said, "Speaking of cars, how many of these do you own, anyway?"
