Page 47 of Good Vibes Only
He opened the passenger door for me. Instantly, I realized that no one hadeveropened a car door for me before. It was such a small thing and I never thought I’d cared about it. But I can’t lie; Ifeltit, that small act, like a swoon in my heart. I tried not to let it show, though. Didn’t want his ego gettingtoobig this early.
“Such a gentleman,” I teased instead. “Where was this man the first time we met?”
He snickered. “I believe he was perusing the masturbator aisle, like any gentleman would.”
I couldn’t help but giggle as I climbed into his car. Maybe Raven was right—maybe wewereobnoxious together—but I liked bantering with Brett. He made me smile.
Brett shut the door after me. The leather seats felt smooth and fresh and as taut as a drum. There wasn’t a speck of dust to be found on his dashboard, also leather. Every breath of air imparted the senses with that lovely “brand new car” smell.
He obviously cared for his car. It was goodto see. You can tell a lot about a guy by how he keeps his things.
He climbed into the driver’s seat and fired the engine.
“Would you believe that’s the first time a guy’s ever opened my car door for me?” I asked.
“What?Seriously?” His jaw dropped, stunned. “Opening the door for your woman is bottom-of-the-barrel level of effort.”
“Unfortunately, if my Tinder dates over the past five years are anything to go by, men todayarebottom of the barrel. Chivalry’s dead.”
He put the car in gear and started to drive. “Can’t blame me. I always open the door for my girl.”
“Always, huh?” I asked, finding that hard to believe.
“I mean—” He tried to hide a smile, but when he looked at me, I could see it reaching his eyes regardless. “The ones I like? Yeah.”
I laughed. “There you go again. Saying you like me.”
“Is that a problem for you? I’ll stop, if you really want me to.” He turned his handsome smile on me again, his secret weapon, the one that always made me second guess whatever I was saying and put a flutter in my heart. “I can be a scrub that doesn’t open your car door, too. Just like all the other guys you’ve dated. Maybe, deep down, that’s what you like?”
“No!” I reached out and grabbed his thick forearm. I loved the hard, dense muscle beneath my fingers. It felt addictive. Made my hands want to travel higher, explore more of his body, feelallhis muscles. But I was a good girl. For now. “Don’t stop.”
“But you don’t like it,” he said, faking a pout.
I playfully sighed. “I’ll let you in on a secret, okay?”
“I’m listening.”
I leaned over the center console and whispered, “I’m starting to like it.” Before he could rub it in my face, I recoiled and quickly held up a finger. “ButI’m allowed to push back every time you say it, until I know you actually meanit, and aren’t just trying to get laid, okay?”
He grinned. “Fair.”
The engine let out a throaty growl as Brett sped up and we merged onto Highway 15.
“So, where are we going for lunch?” I asked.
“A place called 815.”
Oof! To go from such tantalizing highs to such incredible lows in the blink of an eye. A small part of me died inside. I think I might be the only person in Las Vegas whodoesn’tjust simply love 815.
“Oh, 815. Nice,” I said, trying to sound enthusiastic. I didn’t want my disappointment to seep through.
Brett peeked at me, one eyebrow skeptically rising. “Have you been there before?”
“I have,” I said, careful not to show my cards.
“What’d you think?”
“Well, everyone loves 815,” I said factually. It was a hard restaurant to get into, and very pricey, too. Sometimes, I wondered if the exclusivity was the main draw for people.
