"Sounds like my idea of a smashing time."
"Will you do it? Will you help me out?" he asked.
He was so damn hot that I couldn't help but be swayed by him. It had been a long time since a man looked at me that way. Hell, it had been a long time since I'd felt the way he was making me feel.
I couldn't help it. I shivered.
"Fine." I said, not willing to give him the satisfaction of a smile. This was a test. I wanted to see if he'd changed.
"Don't look so glum about it," he said as he smiled at me. “It’ll be a good time, I promise.”
"When is this dinner?" I asked.
"Now." He flashed another grin and started walking away. I followed him, my brow furrowed as I tried to catch up and understand what he was saying.
"What?" I asked as I swallowed hard. I wasn't dressed. I wasn't ready. This wasn't possible. "I can't," I started but he put a finger to my lips.
"Calm down. I've already got a dress picked out for you, shoes too." He was always so confident. Even more so when he was playing a game. Games were Wyatt’s specialty. And they were why I pulled myself from his playing field a long time ago.”You’ll look amazing. I’ve seen to it, darlin’.”
I didn’t have time for a man who was adept at the hunt. Especially when I was the prey.
"What if I said no?" I asked as I crossed my arms and glared up at him. He was impossible.
"You wouldn't," he said. He was so sure. But that was Wyatt Graves. He dripped masculinity and confidence, with a charisma that no woman could deny. But at least I could put up a fight.
"You don't know that." He didn’t. At least, that was what I told myself. It didn’t help that he was sex on a stick, and he was staring right at me.
"I know you. Doesn't matter if it has been five years or five minutes. I know you,” he said. “No was never an option when it came to us. It never will be.”
I glared at him. That wasn't true. It couldn't be.
"So what do you think?" I asked as she emerged from the fast-food restroom door dressed to the nines. It was easy to size her, I just had to call her mom and ask.
I sure as hell knew what I thought. She was knockout gorgeous in a dress that fit her curves perfectly. They left just enough to the imagination to make me wonder what was under that dress.
And if it was just as good as I remembered it.
I took a bite of my apple pie and grinned.
"I think you're a jerk." She said it in such a manner of fact manner that I almost spit the pie out onto the floor from laughing. She had no idea that the dress she was wearing cost more than her monthly salary, or that the shoes could feed a family of six.
She'd rather insult me than be grateful. But she was honest. Genuine. It was part of what I liked about her. The way she filled out that dress didn't hurt.
"Oh, I'm sorry, do you want a bite?" I said as I offered her the last of my pie.
She rolled her eyes and walked past me, but there was a little slink in her step. That woman wanted me to stare. She could give me as much grief as she wanted as long as she looked that darn good in a dinner dress.
I followed her out to the car and opened the door for her. I could've hired someone but I opted to take my favorite car. Not my "rusty old Ford", as she'd dubbed it, but my 1967 Chevelle Super Sport.
That thing was my baby. I'd spent an entire summer restoring it to perfection.
Rose slid into the coupe and looked up at me as I closed the door. She wasn't angry with me, no, that clenched jaw was more determined than anything else.
But what was she determined to do besides get under my skin? I slid into the driver’s seat. We were only a few minutes away.
It was a stunt. My father would be furious. He knew who she was. Knew what she was, but he wouldn’t say a word. Not to me, not to her.
Still, he’d be furious. Miranda Shannon’s daughter. The one thing he wanted. The one woman he wanted. She chose a different man. Had his child.
And I had her on my arm.
It was a direct hit. One I wanted to make. One I needed to make. This was my business, and my land, and my life.
His time was over. It was done.
The proof was in the beautiful woman sitting beside me. I snuck a glance at her as I drove down the street.
“Promise the next time I take you to a fancy dinner I skip the fancy. And the dinner.” I winked at her.
She was cute as hell when she was angry. And she was downright flustered at the the suggestion. She huffed and hemmed before she said, “there won’t be a next time.”
Oh yeah? Wanna bet? I knew her. I just had to find a way to appeal to her.
“This was just a momentary lapse in judgement,” she said as her eyes lingered over my body. If that was the case, she was still having it.