She’s trying to piss me off. “If you make it home?”
She shrugs as she washes the shampoo out of her hair, and I do all I can not to concentrate on the water cascading down her body.
“There will be a lot of wine involved. I want to get really, really drunk. It’s a shame you won’t be there for me to take out my drunken fun on.”
She sighs wistfully while offering me a teasing gaze.
“I want to go. So what if it’s all girls? I survived that night when Ash and them came over and ranted about hating men all night. I can survive a few hours of women drinking.”
She turns toward the shower, facing away from me, and I slide in behind her.
“I would let you, but I don’t think Raya would like it. She just wants girls there, and I was among the few invited. Besides, I’m sure the guys will be calling you to do something with them.”
This is really pissing me off. It’s been three days since I’ve seen her. We never go longer than the three day period of silence. Usually it’s just two days, but I needed an extra-long dose of separation this time. But four days is too damn much, especially since I won’t be able to see her much tomorrow.
“Then at least let me drive you out there. I want you on my bike.”
She turns to me, and her tight, barely-there smile spreads to be bigger and more genuine. “You’ve never put me on your bike. In fact, you said no girls allowed.”
“I’ve changed my mind. So can I drive you out there?”
Why is she making this so hard?
“Yes,” she says, finally wearing that smile I love seeing her use, because she only ever uses that specific one for me. “If you promise to let me drive. Just for a little while.”
“Hell no,” I scoff, and she shrugs while stepping out of the shower and grabbing a towel.
“Then no deal.”
My mouth drops open as I follow her out of the shower, shutting off the water as I reach for a towel.
“You can’t be serious. I’ve never let a girl ride on my bike. I’m not going to let one drive it.”
She carries on with grabbing a second towel and drying her hair, ignoring me as though this conversation is over. It’s not.
“I’m driving you out there,” I say with finality.
“Not unless you let me drive your bike for at least ten minutes.”
“Not happening.”
“Then I’m driving my Camry.”
We’ll see about that.
***
BRIN
“Where are my keys, Rye?” I ask, glaring at him as he leans against my Camry. His motorcycle is parked in my yard with two helmets ready and waiting.
His smirk is almost sexy. Almost. “I’ll give them back after we get to the vineyard. Hop on.”
He motions toward his bike, and I groan while walking down the steps of my porch, even though I’m secretly hiding my grin. He’s not a morning person, but he shows up over here all the time—unless he’s taking one of his breaks. Those are pissing me off.
I know he’s trying to remind me this isn’t a relationship, and that’s really the only way to do it. But he’s the one who is calling all the shots, and I’m just letting him. One thing is for sure, he doesn’t want this turning into more.
How can this not turn into more? It has to. He’s stealing my keys and begging to drive me three hours away for a girls’ night because he can’t go more than three days without seeing me. Hell, he usually can’t go more than two.