Darren’s place was in an affluent suburb of Atlanta. His gate was beautiful black iron with intricate designs. Rather than pushing the intercom, I used the code he gave me, and it slid open.
A new black Aston Martin DBS was parked out front, and obviously, I had to take a moment to enjoy it. I fucking loved pretty cars. A minute later I heard a sound behind me, and Darren approached, wearing a pair of board shorts and no shirt. The sun glistened off water droplets on his dark skin, making him look like he sparkled. He had a star tattoo over each pec, and a tiger on his left arm. I really wished he wasn’t so hot…and fun. Hot and fun were two of my favorite things.
“You like her?” he asked.
I ran my hand over the hood and said, “Almost enough to go straight for her,” which made him laugh. “I love cars. I have an Audi R8 back home.”
“No shit?” He stood beside me, smelling like chlorine. “Lawyering pays that good in Cali?” he teased, and I chuckled.
“I do okay, but family money too. Lost both my parents not long after law school. Inherited a lot.” I would never have to work again if I didn’t want to.
“Shit. I’m sorry. Remember I told you about my foot-in-mouth disorder.”
I nudged him. “Nah, it’s okay. I love and miss them, of course, but it’s been a while. I’m used to being alone.”
Strangely, I actually felt Darren frown beside me.
“What?” I turned to him.
The look fell off his face. “Wanna drive her?”
“Excuse me, what?”
“You heard me.”
“Are you crazy? You don’t know me like that. You’re going to let me drive this car?”
Darren shrugged. “I trust you. Let me go change real quick. I was in the pool when you called. I don’t want to get her wet, which is a first for me and a lady.”
“Oh God. You’re the worst. That was so bad.” I followed him into the house.
“Shut up. That was fucking great and you know it. I’ll be right back. Make yourself at home.”
I liked this—the new friendship we’d somehow formed.
Darren ran upstairs, and I forced myself not to watch his ass. I knew it was a great one. I’d seen him in football pants.
While he was gone, I browsed around his place. It was a bachelor pad but sophisticated. The TV damn near took up a whole wall, and there were video game systems below it. Football memorabilia covered the walls in one room—photos of Darren in college and the NFL and with the Super Bowl trophy, he and Anson holding it high.
It didn’t take him long to change. He came back down, wearing basketball shorts, a Lightning tee, and a pair of sneakers I was pretty sure he’d done a commercial for. They were like his shoes.
He tossed me the keys, and I caught them. “We can’t really open her up and let her go, but you’ll still feel the power. You’ll feel like the king of the fucking world, man.”
“So, basically just another day for me?”
Darren barked out a laugh. “And you call me cocky.”
We went out, and I climbed into the driver’s seat. I had to adjust it because Darren was taller than me. I swore my body vibrated when the engine rumbled to life.
“Better than sex, right? And you haven’t even driven yet.”
“I’m so sorry,” I replied.
He frowned. “For what?”
“The shitty sex you must be having. Nothing compares to sex with me, not even a car like this.”
“No, no, no, no. Nope. You are not claiming to have better sex than me. I have the best sex.”
I laughed. Jesus, he was ridiculous. I guessed we both were. It was all in good fun, though. “Yeah, sure. Whatever you say.”
I’d never been more careful with a car in my life as I was driving Darren’s. He was so relaxed in the passenger seat, like he wasn’t worried at all. I would be losing my shit if the Aston Martin was mine and someone else was behind the wheel. It didn’t seem like much got to him, and I liked that about him—his ability to let things roll off his back.
“You know what we should do?” Darren asked.
“What?”
“Toilet paper Anson and West’s house.”
A snicker fell from my lips. “What are we now, twelve?”
“No, we’re just fun. Come on. Let’s do it. I have his gate code. They just had three weeks of fun without us. We owe them this.”
“Oh my God. No. I’m not going to toilet paper their house. Plus, they have cameras. They’ll know it’s us.”
“So? It’ll still be funny.”
“Someone will probably call the cops on us and we’ll get arrested.”
“Wow…I didn’t realize you’re so boring. All that blond hair your halo?”
I glanced his way. “Are you calling me an angel?”
He shrugged. “Call ’em how I see ’em.”