Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 27770 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 139(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27770 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 139(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
Before leaving the building, the front desk guard hands me the key to my rental car and tells me where to find it. I trek through the parking lot, tugging at my tie as I walk toward the Mustang I opted for. It’s a black convertible with black leather interior. According to the guys, taking your date to the airport to watch planes take off and land is the thing to do. So, Scotlyn and I will do that with the top down.
When I get to my hotel, I tell the valet I won’t be long, hoping he’ll keep my car close. After I shower and dress in something more comfortable, I head back downstairs and outside. Thankfully, the valet listened and kept my car there for me.
“Nice ride.”
“Thanks,” I tell the kid as he hands me my keys.
“Have fun getting laid,” he says, laughing as he walks away. I slide down into the leather seat and push the button that makes the engine roar to life. His words echo and I finally get it . . . cars like this get men laid. Maybe I should’ve bought one years ago, or plan to buy one when I get back to Texas.
“Ugh.” The thought of returning home makes my stomach twist. Before Scotlyn, I counted down the days until this business trip was over. Now, it’s the last thing I want to do. I’m not exactly enjoying Portland, but it’s much prettier because of her.
I plug her address into the GPS and follow the step-by-step directions, arguing with the AI system when she tells me to turn. Luckily, I find a spot across the street from Scotlyn’s complex, park, and shut the car off.
When I reach her apartment, the door opens, and she steps out. Her smile is bright and welcoming. “Hey,” I say as soon as I can muster a word.
“Hey. Let’s hurry before your Uber leaves.”
“My Uber?”
“Well, your text said you were picking me up. I figured you had an Uber.”
“Ah,” I say, tilting my head back, hoping she thinks I’m flirting. “I rented a car. I’m trying to be a gentleman.”
Scotlyn reaches out and touches my arm. It’s nothing more than a simple touch, but in my mind her fingers trail over my skin back and forth, her eyelashes flutter, and she bites her lower lip.
“Awesome, let’s go.”
I’m tempted to ask what the hurry is, but I don’t want to know the answer. Maybe she has other plans and I’m just a stopover.
“No way,” Scotlyn says when I direct her toward the car. “A convertible?”
I shrug. “It’s all they had.”
“Right,” she said as she trails her finger down the side. I stop the intrusive thoughts before they take over my mind. Scotlyn sees me as a friend. She stands on the other side of the car, leaning on the roof. “Are you going to put the top down?”
I glance quickly at her breasts. My mouth waters. I head toward her so I can open the door for her.
“Such a gentleman.”
What if I didn’t want to be a gentleman anymore?
What if I wanted to be some alpha who tells his girl to get on her knees to suck his dick?
The image of Scotlyn looking up at me through her thick eyelashes makes my cock twitch. I open the door, watch as she sexily slides inside, and then shut the door. I go around the back so she can’t see me adjust myself. Although, it makes me wonder what she’d think if she saw me grab myself while walking to the driver’s side.
After pushing the start button, the engine comes to life. The seats vibrate and Scotlyn grins.
“Oh yes, I like this car.”
Me too.
I drive us to a well-known grill. The valet helps Scotlyn out of the car and takes my key when I hand it to him. With my hand on the small of her back, I direct her toward the hostess stand.
“Danson for two,” I tell her. We don’t have to wait for a table and are directed to one outside, under white lights and heat lamps. I hold the seat for Scotlyn and wait for her to sit before I move to sit across from her.
“How’s work?” she asks after we order a glass of wine each. It’s all I can have if I’m driving. Besides, while liquid courage would be nice to help me tell her about my feelings, I want to take her to the airport and do it under the stars.
“It’s work,” I tell her. “How’s the day job?”
“Great,” she says. “One more promotion and I can quit the club.”
“The tips from bartending will be hard to give up.”
She nods and glances at the waitress when our drinks come.
“How’s the project?”
Work is the last thing I want to talk about. My face must relay this because she nods.