I call tell she’s gorgeous, but those stupid Nicole Richie sunglasses she’s got on are covering half her face, and I can’t get a good look at her. Why’s she wearing them? It’s an overcast day.
I get another whiff of her perfume, and my desire gets the best of me. Fuck it.
“Hey, can I see those for a second?” Before she even has a chance to respond, I pluck the stupid shades off her face. And when I do, my cock pulses, threatening to pop my zipper.
She is gorgeous – runway model gorgeous. Her look of shock does nothing to pale the intense beauty of her eyes, so sweet and innocent, like a girl who knows nothing of the world.
I realize she’s not wearing any makeup, thus the reason for the glasses. But I also know that this girl doesn’t need it. Not any. In fact, I wouldn’t even want to see her all dolled up like the gold-diggers back in the city. She’s perfect just like she is.
“Hey, what—what are you doing?” she asks.
“What is a girl like you doing driving Uber in the sticks?” I ask. My question catches her off guard, and for a second, she forgets she’s driving. I point to a pickup truck in front of us that she’s about to rear end. “Trying to kill us?”
Desiree whips her head to the road and her eyes go wide. “Shit!”
I brace myself as she overcorrects and slams on the brakes. The tires squeal and she pulls over onto the side of the road and puts the car in park. If Brian had done something like that, I’d be cursing him out right now. But I’m not even worried about what just happened; I’m worried about what?
??s gonna happen next.
“I—I’m so sorry,” she stammers, running her fingers through her hair. “I just—”
“Don’t apologize,” I tell her. “Because, gorgeous, you just made my day.”
2
Desiree
Gorgeous? My heart is racing, I almost just killed us, and he’s…complimenting me? I’m an anxious person as it is; it doesn’t help that I’m driving a man who could be on the cover of any men’s magazine.
I just sort of sit there awkwardly with my hand in my hair, staring at the steering wheel, waiting for him to speak and save me from the unbearable silence. But he doesn’t. Finally, it gets to be too much to bear, and I manage to spit out the dumbest thing I’ve ever said.
“Made your day by almost killing you?”
I wince as the words come out of my mouth. It could have been funny – maybe – if I’d said it like a joke instead of with all the earnestness of a child who doesn’t understand sarcasm yet.
Thankfully, Caleb doesn’t laugh too hard. He chuckles at me and his smile sends a warm wave through my stomach. He may be wearing a T-shirt and a pair of jeans, but he’s not from around here. Considering the destination he put in for the Uber, he must be from Manhattan. Maybe a model?
“That was exciting,” he says, with a confidence I could only dream of having. “But no. You made my day, gorgeous.”
Gorgeous? Is he talking about me? He must be kidding.
I haven’t washed my hair in two days, I have absolutely zero makeup on, and I’m wearing a T-shirt and a worn-out pair of Dickies.
“I—I should get driving,” I say quickly as I pull back onto the road. I can feel his eyes on me but don’t have the courage to look over at him. Normally, I’m a pretty jovial driver. I like making conversation. But I’m normally driving people from the area – ones I have things in common with. I’m pretty sure if I tried to say anything to Caleb, it would come out horribly.
“So this is your side job or something, right?” he asks. “When you’re not on the runway?”
“Runway?” I ask. “You…you think I’m a pilot?”
Caleb bursts out laughing. He even slaps his knee. I feel my cheeks getting red. “You can’t possibly mean that, can you?” I don’t respond. I don’t know what he means, but I know I just said something horrible, as I knew I would.
“You can?” Caleb chuckles again and I get up the courage to look over at him. Our eyes meet and I quickly look back at the road. He’s calling me gorgeous?
“So you’re from the city—?”
“The runway, Desiree,” he interrupts. “Fashion week? Modeling? Tyra Banks? You know?”
If I wasn’t feeling stupid already, I am now. I want to slump forward on the steering wheel and close my eyes in shame, but I also don’t want to kill us – or almost kill us again – so I do my best to keep it together.