Page 141 of The Bronze Garza
I narrow my gaze at the object in his outstretched hand. It’s the permission card I’d given him. The catalyst for the most intense, magical, soul-shifting sexual experiences of my life.
Hell noI don’t want it back. And the sonofabitch knows that. So damn manipulative.
As all the will I’d mustered to play hard and give him hell seeps out of me, I brush past his outstretched hand and haul my pathetic ass into the pickup.
We drivein silence.
I’m not one to be lost for words, but what do I use as a conversation starter when I have zero clue what’s going on here? We aren’t dating. We aren’t together. And despite our electrifying chemistry, things between us have always been frustrating and confusing at best.
What now? Whatnext? Does he want to extend our fling? Does he want...more?
A buzz from my purse pulls me from my reveries. I get out my phone and check the screen.
Reuben:Jules wants to meet you. She’s inviting you for dinner this weekend.
Me:Considering she’s been picking out expensive underwear and lingerie for me, it’s the least I can do.
Reuben:Damn. Was hoping you’d say no.
Me:Why?
Reuben: Not sure I can handle a friendship between you two.
Me:Now I definitely want to meet her!
“You found a new man already?” Torin’s voice comes at me, snagging my attention.
I glance over at him. “Whenwould I even get the time to find a man? What with allyourmen on me everywhere I go?”
“Can he fight?”
“Who?”
“Whoever you’re texting.”
Is he serious? “I don’t know, but at least herespondsto my texts.”
He grumbles something inaudible.
“What was that?”
He doesn’t repeat what he said. Probably for the best, as I don’t imagine it’s anything pleasant.
“Where are we going?” I ask after another long stretch of driving in silence.
“Nowhere.” He taps his thumb against the steering wheel. “Just driving.”
“So, you laid in wait for me, rankled Dad, and manipulated me into coming with you all so you could just...drive?”
He slides me a quick glance. “You didn’t miss me?”
“No,” I lie. “The spell’s worn off.”
“Hmm. Well it hasn’t for me.” His phone starts buzzing in the cup-holder. Without even looking down at it, he tells me, “Turn that off for me, will you?”
When I pick it up, I see it’s Monica calling. “It’s your—”
“I don’t care. Turn it off.”
