“Why the hell not?”
“They’re part of the family jewels.” She waves a dismissive hand, like that one sentence should explain everything.
I chuckle, my stomach aching too much to burst into full-blown laughter again. “Family jewels? Don’t those, uh, belong to your father? Maybe your brother, if you have one?”
Her cheeks go red and she covers her giggling mouth. “You’re funny.”
I puff out my chest at her compliment. “Thanks.”
“But rude,” she adds, dropping her hand as she composes herself once more.
She’s not wrong there.
I glance around the crowded room, wishing we were anywhere but here. We should go. I want to talk to her some more.
Alone.
Grabbing hold of her arm, I tug her in close, so I can whisper in her ear. “Want to get out of here?”
A shiver moves through her and she pulls away slightly, those luminous blue eyes gazing up at me, her expression serious. “Where would we go?”
“I don’t know.” I shrug. “Find a bar and have some drinks? Or maybe grab some dinner?” Lord knows we could find better food than what they’re serving here, and I’m fucking starving. “There’s gotta be a couple of decent restaurants nearby, right?”
“Quite a few of them actually,” she says with a nod.
“Then we’ll go to whatever restaurant you recommend.” I smile at her. “Somewhere nice and quiet.”
She frowns. “But what about my father?”
Please tell me she doesn’t want to bring her dad to dinner with us. “Did you drive him here or somethin’?” I ask, fighting the frustration running through me.
“No, he actually drove me,” she answers, glancing around, like she’s looking for him.
Shit. The hairs on the back of my neck prickle as I realize something. I don’t even know how old she is. What if she’s…
“How old are you exactly?” I ask, my voice gruff. I take a deep breath, fighting the panic rising within me.
“Twenty-three.” She’s still frowning. So hard, there are little lines in her forehead, and she pulls out of my hold. “Wait, did you think I was underage?”
“Maybe.” I shrug again. She’s younger than me, but at least she’s legal, thank God. “Most twenty-three-year olds I know don’t need to ask their father’s permission to go anywhere.”
She stands a little straighter, her eyes narrowing, her lips forming into a thin line. I don’t think she liked that I said that.
Worse, I feel like shit for saying it, too.
“I don’t need to ask his permission,” she says, her tone haughty. “I just—we came together. And I certainly don’t want to abandon him. Telling him I’m leaving with someone else is the polite thing to do.”
“Sure. I get it.” I scrub a hand along my jaw, trying to come up with the right thing to say. “Maybe you could send him a text.”
Susanna scoffs. “He never checks his text messages. I’m not even sure if he brought his phone with him.”
Impossible. Everyone I know is constantly on their phone. “Well, let’s go find him then.”
“How about I go find him?” She’s smiling at me once again, and seeing it makes me feel like I’ve won the big one—not Super Bowl intensity, but close. Playoff intensity for sure. She keeps looking at me like that, and I’ll probably let her do whatever she wants. “Give me a few minutes. I’ll search him out and let him know I’m leaving with you.”
Shock hits me right between the eyes and I blink at her. “So you really want to go to dinner? With me?”
Jesus, I sound like a complete idiot. But she makes me feel like one, so it’s like I can’t help myself.