Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 24156 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 121(@200wpm)___ 97(@250wpm)___ 81(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24156 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 121(@200wpm)___ 97(@250wpm)___ 81(@300wpm)
The kid and I exchange a few more words, and I point toward the lot in question. It’s busy. Other people have managed to escape the parade route on foot and are rushing to their vehicles. There’s no way Dustin can maneuver the cart between all the drivers peeling out and skidding away.
He pulls onto an adjacent sidewalk instead and turns to face us. “Here you go.”
“You did great, Dustin. Can’t thank you enough.” I hand him a hundred bucks.
He pushes it back in my direction. “I don’t want any money, just…” Dustin looks at Sophie like he’s lovestruck. “Could I have your autograph?”
She smiles. “I owe you more than that. How about something better? Something for now…”
Sophie smiles and leans in, pressing a butterfly-soft kiss to his cheek. “Thank you for everything. Really.”
“Oh, my god.” He presses his fingers to his face.
“And I want to give you something for later. If you’ll write down your phone number, I’ll make sure you have the best backstage tickets to my concert the next time I’m in town. Bring a few friends. I’ll send a limo for you, ensure you have one of the best meals of your life, and we’ll sit down to talk when I’m less of a mess so I can tell you how truly grateful I am.”
“No shit?” Dustin’s eyes bug out.
“Absolutely.”
The kid scrambles to find a piece of paper and a pen, then jots his digits and thrusts them her way. “That would be amazing.”
She palms it. “My pleasure. You’ll hear from me soon, Dustin.”
“Wow. Amazing.” A loopy grin covers his face. “No one will believe me.”
I have an idea how to solve that problem. “Sophie, are you attached to your shoes?”
She scowls. “They’re actually worse than the dress.”
“Why don’t you let Dustin keep them?” I look his way. “Social media can verify she was wearing these shoes when the performance started. Just…wait a few days, huh? So the danger dies down.”
Sophie slips off her shoes and hands them to Dustin. He’s barely paying attention to me as he takes them from her. “Yeah. Sure. Oh, my sister is going to flip shit when she sees these.”
I jump to the sidewalk with a chuckle. Still in the buggy, Sophie frowns. “Um, Rand. The pavement is still too hot for my feet.”
Does she think I haven’t realized that? “I got you. Come here.”
When I hold out my hand, she only hesitates a second before she takes it.
Sophie trusts me—mostly. I’ve gotten her this far. If I had more time with her, if she was mine, it would be so heady to slowly win her trust. I’d love to nudge her comfort zone, push her boundaries slowly, one seductive inch at a time.
But she’s not yours and she’s probably not that sort of woman. Get your brains out of your dick.
While she’s perched at the edge of the buggy, I settle an arm around her waist, then wedge the other under her knees and haul her against my chest.
She loops her arm around my neck as she squeaks in protest. “You can’t carry me.”
“News flash: I’m doing it,” I point out. “Thanks again, Dustin.”
“Thank you!”
Satisfied we made the cleanest getaway possible, I carry her to my truck, ignoring the curious stares of other drivers passing by.
When I reach my black Chevy, I slide Sophie down my body. “Stand on my feet.”
She does. It’s awkward, and I know she’s aware that every inch of her body is pressed against every inch of mine. I sure as hell can’t ignore our closeness. But I don’t linger even though I’d like to. I merely fish for my keys in my pocket and press the fob to unlock the door before sweeping her back into my arms.
“What are you doing now?” she asks.
“Open the door.”
She does, and a blast of unbearable heat rolls from the cab of the truck. I love the sleekness of black vehicles…but they make summer in Texas a real bitch.
“I promise I’ll get the air going in a minute.” I slide her into the driver’s seat. “Just scoot to the passenger’s side and we’ll be out of here.”
“Going where?” she asks as she shimmies over, doing her best to pull my big shirt down so she doesn’t expose her thighs and everything in between. Too late. I’ve seen it all—and it’s indelibly burned into my brain. Not because she’s a celebrity. I’m past that BS, and I’ve protected famous folks before. But because Sophie Larsen is beautiful, and all I can think about is kissing her again, getting her underneath me, and letting every bit of her feel every inch of me.
I clear my throat and start the truck. “I’m figuring that out.”
We can’t go to my place. Too many people know she was with me before the shit hit the fan, and if the killer is connected to her, that’s the first place they’ll look.