Page 21 of Huge Dynamite
“I think I’d like to see that agenda book,” he jokes, smirking.
Tilting my head, I chuckle. Damn, it feelsso goodto laugh and be this carefree. “Yes, Seth, I trust you. Yes, you’re passionate, and it’s true, I don’t know you well enough to know if you should make different decisions at times. But your impulses—from what I’ve seen—have been completely under your control and based on passion.”
His face relaxes and the tight muscles in his jaw release. Nodding, he looks away. I touched on something—and he’s relieved.
“Tequila?” Holding out the bottle, I offer him some.
“Nah, thanks. I need to stay sober. One of us has to drive.” Sighing, he chuckles and runs both hands down the legs of his jeans.
From the tension I’m feeling coming off of him, I can tell he wants to keep his hands to himself about as much as I want him to.
“So…” Staring at the back of the driver’s seat, he doesn’t make eye contact with me. “Speaking of, what do you say I drive you home?”
“Home?” It’s like a brick has just formed in my belly. “I don’t want to go home.”
He glances at me, raising an eyebrow.
“I want my tattoo. We came here for a reason, and I’m not chickening out on something else I want in my life because my parents wouldn’t approve. For god’s sake, I’m twenty-eight years old. I literally have people’s lives in my hands all night—just about every night—and I care what Mommy and Daddy think? Pathetic, right?”
“No, it’s not pathetic.” He smiles. “It’s just learned behavior. Once you stand up to them and survive, you’ll realize it’s okay to be you.” Smiling, he turns away and then looks back at me. “Actually, you’re better than okay. You’re amazing.”
My cheeks heat as I smile at him.
“You really want that tattoo?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know what you want?”
“No. That’s the problem. I’ve been back and forth—hey!” It dawns on me. “You know that bet you lost? When you laughed because I want to drive a hot pink Jeep?”
“I chuckled, I didn’t laugh. And yeah, I know.”
“Well, when I won, we decided that the prize would be named at a later time.”
“And?” His eyebrow lifts skeptically.
“I’ve decided on the prize. We are each going to get tattoos—and we’re going to pick the tattoo for the other person.”
“What?” Leaning forward, he rests his forearms on his thighs and turns his head to look at me.
The way he sits is so damned masculine, I can feel the pull between my legs. His presence is so powerful and strong, it’s like he takes up all the room in the back of my car, and I swear, he must have a thousand times the testosterone level that Robert has.
“You heard me.” Raising my chin, I dare him. “You don’t want another tattoo?”
“I do, actually. I just wasn’t planning to get it just yet.”
“So, why don’t I start tonight? You pick for me—just something small, please—something that will fit right…” I point to the upper outside of my right hip. “Just no words, please. No sayings or anything like that. Then, we’ll come back and I’ll choose for you.”
Sitting back, he sighs. “Holly, as much as I love this idea, I can’t help but wonder if this is the tequila talking.”
“Maybe. But it’s just the right amount of tequila.”
“But I don’t want you to make a decision while you’re impaired. You might wake up tomorrow and regret this.”
“Like I regret every day of my life?” I stare into his eyes. “I’m buzzed, yes. But I’m not drunk.”
“I don’t know.”
