Page 45 of The Right Garza
I’m also preoccupied with trying to deaden the flutters that have revived from being in his presence.
“Drive slow so the ride takes longer,” I say with a saccharine smile. “And play some soft music,por favor.”
His glare on me promises retribution. For what, I don’t know.
Or maybe I do know.
Maybe, subconsciously, I invited Maggie to use her as barrier between him and whatever the hell these inexplicable butterflies are all about.
Maybe I need her here as a reminder as towhyI cannot and should not be feeling flutters of any kind for him. He’s her ex. And she’s my friend.
Also, he’s an ass.
As the flutters stubbornly continue to tickle my belly, my throat, and the outskirts of my heart, I flip around so my back is to him and my face is to the leather.
Then, with a quiet but frustrated sigh, I close my eyes and sleep.
Chapter FIFTEEN
“Always so crabby with me.”
Lexi
Someone is drawing circleson my face.
“Leave me alone,” I mumble, lethargically smacking the offending hand away.
“Lexi…”
Hmm.I know that voice. Ilikethat voice.
“We’re here, Hellcat.”
Grudgingly, I stir and shift from my side onto my back. As my eyes sluggishly flutter open, Trent’s irritatingly handsome face blooms into view. He’s leaned in and over me from the passenger door, and my heart starts racing out of nowhere, with no purpose or reason.
He smells like a morning sunrise on a perfect day.
“I thought I told you to drive slow,” I grouse.
He laughs, resting his hands on my thighs. “I did. Even took the longest route here.”
A brief shock zips through me from his touch, as causal as it is. “Well, it wasn’t long enough.”
Grasping my wrists, he pulls me up to sitting position. “We won’t be here long. Maybe about an hour or so then you can go back to dreamland.”
I go to rub the bleariness from my eyes then remember my mascara and eyeliner, so I make a few wide blinks instead which no doubt looks comical to Trent. “Where’s Maggie?”
“Buying tickets.”
“Oh. How do I look? Did I mess up my hair or makeup?”
His gaze lingers on me for several heartbeats before he reaches up and gives my high ponytail a gentle tug. “What you look like”—his hands move to finger the tendrils hanging down both sides of my face—”is danger, Hellcat.”
“What?” I throw him an irritated scowl. “What kind of answer is that?”
With unconcealed and unapologetic intensity, he stares down at me, and once again, something happens inside me. Something even bigger this time. A something too acute to ignore.
“It means you’re dangerously perfect.” He steps back and gives my thigh a light slap. “Come on, let’s go.”
