“Who?”
I smile up at him. Surly or not, the way he towers over me is kinda hot.
“You wouldn’t have reacted like that if you knew how talented Beatrice Nightingale Brandt is. Have a look.”
I take his hand. After the way he picked me up off the floor, the motion feels natural. Smooth and soothing, unlike the clammy hand locked around mine earlier.
Then I step forward and almost stumble before I pick my foot up and shake it out with a wince.
“This isn’t necessary. I’m...quite familiar with Mrs. Brandt’s work,” he tells me. “It’s probably best we get you home.”
“Oh, I’m fine.” I take another step. Dang.
I’ll admit it, my ankle hurts, but I’m not going to let anything ruin tonight. I limp along to the 3-D model he has to see to get how big of a deal this is.
I realize I’m being a little weird and imposing after what just went down. But God, is it a crime to try to get someone to appreciate a sliver of my life?
Soon, we’re standing in front of a scale model, a towering glass office building. I take it in slowly and point to the iconic Arboretum Office she made her home base.
“See how the lights are chandeliers? Every fixture, inside and out, is high-end handcrafted glass. I think the most beautiful part is probably the white flowering ivy hanging from the ceiling. It’s an office and a greenhouse. That’s what makes her work so special. It’s art people use in their daily lives, a place that’s functional and organic and just...so beautiful.” Trying not to squeal, I point to the roof. “It’s solar-powered and grows oxygen-rich plants. Beatrice is so brilliant. It’s environmentally sustainable on top of high-end, classy, and unique. And she gets to work there every day.”
When I turn my head, he looks a smidge less freaked out. Maybe my little spiel is working.
“I see.” He gives me a slow, almost knowing smile.
“I didn’t know grumpy gods smiled.”
“Grumpy gods?”
Frick. Did I say that out loud?
“You’re passionate, I’ll give you that.” He chuckles and quirks a thick eyebrow. “Let’s get out of here.”
He’s said it a couple times now.
I thought he was just being a buzzkill at first, but I’m not so sure anymore. Having a drink with this guy or some takeout might be a great way to salvage the night.
“You’re right. We should grab a bite and head to my place.”
“No food, and you don’t need another drink. But we should get out of here.”
“Oh, straight to my place then?” I wink. “Even better, you devil.”
I lean into the back of the leather seat.
I haven’t been in a Tesla since Brina’s fancy wedding. It’s a smooth ride. Of course, I might be enjoying it so much because, rather than let me hobble along, he picked me up, carried me to the car, and plunked me down on the heated leather seat.
“You know, I think maybe that glass of wine somehow made the twisted ankle worse,” I say, stretching my foot and wincing.
He smirks. “You can drop the act. I’ll never believe you only had one glass of wine. Damn glad I showed up when I did, or else that worm you were with might’ve—”
“Do you call everyone you meet a liar?” I cut in with a laugh.
Apparently, everything is still funny when I’m this keyed up and the mood is set to awkward.
“Only when I’m questioning the truth from girls I don’t trust with an Uber,” he says matter-of-factly.
“Whatever. This is a nice ride,” I say, realizing how cushy the seat feels.
He grins.
“Watch this.” He takes his hand off the wheel and we stay in a straight line.
“It’s self-driving?”
He places his hands on the wheel again. “Close enough. Give it a few more years before you can take a nap at the wheel.”
“Ohhh, sounds like a dream.” I close my eyes, my brain flicking to a terrible vision of me napping in his arms.
When I open them again, I’m actually clutched in his embrace. We’re standing outside my front door and he’s carried me up a full flight of stairs.
I hold my arms out to my sides, my head reeling.
What is wrong with me?
There’s no way it’s the wine. I think I’m just overwhelmed, slightly beat up, and trying to process how the night went from hell to heaven faster than the 2.4 seconds it takes his car to go from zero to sixty.
“See how balanced I am? Not drunk!” I insist, pushing playfully at his shoulders.
“Calm down, woman.” He turns my key in the door and pushes it open. “Where’s your room?”
Uh-oh.
Straight and to the point. I think I like this guy.
Ever since Brina moved out and got married, I don’t even have a roommate to work around anymore. Win.
“Down the hall, first door on the right,” I tell him.