“What are you waiting for?” he asks with a laugh.
I tilt my head. “I’ve been thinking, how do I know you’re not going to kidnap me? You could be a murderer for all I know.”
“Do I look like a murderer to you?” he scoffs, mildly offended.
I shrug. “Most murderers are good looking. It’s how they kill so easily, women go with them willingly.”
He grins. I don’t find this a grinning matter. “You think I’m good looking?”
I roll my eyes. “Oh, my God, after what I said that’s all you got from it?”
“Well, I mean, it’s a backwards compliment, but a compliment is a compliment.”
I shake my head. “I’ve decided you’re too dumb to be a killer,” I say, and open the door.
He makes a sound. “Now I feel like I shouldn’t be offended, but I definitely am.”
“Hey, if the shoe fits …,” I joke.
He shakes his head. “You’re something else.”
He pulls away from the curb—it’s my last chance to jump out, but I don’t.
“Where are we going?” I ask.nbsp;
“I can’t tell you that, it sucks the fun out of it,” he protests. “All I’ll say is, it’s one of my favorite places in the world. I … uh … haven’t shared it with anyone before, but after talking to you yesterday, you … you get things, and I think you’ll appreciate this.”
“Wow,” I say, slightly shocked.nbsp;
“We have a fairly long drive ahead of us,” he warns. “I’m going to swing by McDonalds’s for some breakfast. Is that cool with you?”
“Yeah, that’s fine.”
After a quick detour where I order an Egg McMuffin and he orders a bagel egg sandwich, we’re back on the road.
“Tell me something about yourself,” Jasper says around a mouthful.
“Um … I mean, I’m boring. I read a lot. I used to dance before my kidneys failed. I want to get back into it; I miss it.”
“What do you like to read?” he asks.
“Romances, mostly,” I admit and blush. I don’t know why I’m embarrassed by it. There’s nothing wrong with a little smut. Smut makes the world go around. “Contemporary, paranormal, and some fantasy now and then.”
“That’s cool. I like fantasy and thrillers. The occasional biography now and then depending on who it’s about.”
“Really?” I ask, shocked.
He chuckles. “What? Since I’m a guy I can’t read?”
“No, no, it just … surprised me, that’s all.”nbsp;
“Don’t get me wrong, surfing is my passion. If I could’ve gone professional, I would have.”
“Why didn’t you?” I question, curiosity getting the better of me.
He shrugs and shifts in his seat. “There are a lot of guys out there way better. Liam Wade for example. That guy kills it every time. He’s a legend and he’s just up and coming. I can’t compete with that, and frankly, I don’t want to. I want it to remain fun. To try to make a career out of it would suck the fun out of it. I want to love it for the rest of my life.”
“I can understand that,” I admit. “I used to dance before … before the kidney failure. It was my passion. I didn’t care that it was hard work because I loved it. But I never wanted to try to pursue it professionally. I didn’t want to lose my love for it because I had to do it.”