6
1004 Words
“Oh, no reason. It’s just that a skull fracture isn’t on my itinerary.”
Glancing at me in the rearview mirror, he frowns. Then he takes another corner so fast, I have to cling to the door handle so I don’t smash through the rear window and rocket off into space.
“Dude, will you please cool it? I’m getting tossed around back here like a beach ball at the Electric Daisy Carnival!”
I can tell from the look on his face that he doesn’t get the reference. But he does slow down to under a thousand miles per hour, so I guess he understands the general idea that I’m not one for aggressive shows of speed.
“Thank you. Sheesh.”
We drive for a while without exchanging more conversation. I resist the urge to pester him with questions, mostly because I’m afraid his Irish accent will make my panties go up in smoke.
After Spider has glanced curiously at me in the rearview mirror about four hundred times, I sigh heavily and adjust my glasses. “I know. My sister and I don’t look alike.”
“Same cheek, though.”
“Cheek?”
“Sass. Confidence.”
“Ha! Nobody on earth has Sloane’s self-confidence.”
He chuckles. “Aye. Except maybe her man.”
I wasn’t going to ask questions but curiosity gets the better of me. “You mean her fiancé? The rich and elderly Mr. O’Donnell?”
He glowers. “Forty-two is hardly elderly, lass.”
Okay, two things. First: he’s right. Though it’s quite a bit older than Sloane, forty-two isn’t elderly.
More importantly, being called “lass” is my new favorite kink.
I drape myself over the back of the passenger seat and stare at Spider’s beautiful profile.
After a moment, he flashes me a quizzical look.
“Sorry, I’m just trying to imagine what it must be like to walk around looking like that.”
“Like what?”
“You know.” I wave a hand to indicate his general luminosity. “That.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
Bizarrely, he seems sincere. His expression is one of genuine confusion. But how is that possible? If I were gorgeous, I’m sure I’d know it.
Like Sloane does.
It occurs to me that maybe Spider’s elevator doesn’t go all the way to the top floor. I might need to clarify things for him.
“What I’m saying is that you’re very good-looking.”
I’m astonished when his cheeks turn bright red.
He sputters some kind of nonsensical denial, adjusts his tie, and stares straight ahead out the windshield, blinking comically.
Aw. He’s bashful! Gorgeous, well-endowed, and bashful!
I want to crawl into his lap but smile at him instead. “You must be very popular with the ladies, Spider.”
More sputtering. He finally composes himself enough to say stiffly, “I don’t have time for a relationship.”
I laugh at that. “Gotcha. If I were you, I’d be a player, too. Why keep all those cookies in one jar when you can hand ’em out all over town and make everyone happy?”
He says gruffly, “You’re off your rocker.”
“Oh, don’t be mad. I’m paying you a compliment.”
“It doesn’t feel like it.”
“Would you prefer if I said you were homely and repulsive? Because I’m happy to indulge your charming delusion that you’re not extraordinarily attractive. It’s cute.”
His entire face is now red. Bright red, from the top of his starched white collar to the tips of his ears.
This guy is ridiculously appealing.
I flop against the back passenger seat and heave a sigh. “Okay, we’ll move on. How about if you tell me where we are?”
“Bermuda.”
My eyes nearly pop out of my head. Bermuda? No wonder the air is so humid.
Noticing my expression, Spider says, “It’s temporary. We were in Martha’s Vineyard last, but there were some, ah…” He makes a strange face. “I’ll let your sister explain.”
Hmm. The plot thickens.
I say drily, “Were you run out of Martha’s Vineyard by the daily stampede of Sloane’s admirers beating down the door? I bet it must be hard for her fiancé to deal with the way every guy drops to his knees at her feet.”
He pauses for a beat before saying quietly, “Jealousy doesn’t suit you.”
It takes my breath away. I look out the window at the passing scenery, my cheeks burning with shame.
We drive for a while in silence until I admit grudgingly, “Whenever she’s around, people look right through me like I’m invisible.”
“That’s because people are bloody morons.”
He’s being nice to me because I gave him such effusive compliments.
Whatever. I’ll take it.
I smile at him. “Thank you, Spider. In addition to being very hot, you’re very sweet.”
His ears turn a darker shade of crimson.
Then we’re turning onto a long private drive, and I’m distracted by the size of the iron gate we’re going through. It’s enormous, creaking open slowly to let us pass. The gate is flanked on either side by high stone walls and a grove of trees that obscure the view beyond.
When I spot the security cameras mounted on top of the walls and all the armed guards lurking under the trees, I frown.
“Spider?”
“Aye, lass?”
“Is my sister’s fiancé famous?”
He quirks his lips. “Something like that.”
“Don’t be cryptic. I get nervous when people are cryptic.”
“Mr. O’Donnell is…a powerful man.”
The hesitation makes me even more nervous. “Like how powerful? Is he a politician or something?”
He scoffs. “Politicians wish they had his kind of power.”
“Oh, god. That sounds scary. Is he a supervillain?”
- Writer
