He holds his keys out and the lights flash on the sleek black Porsche in front of us. Of course he drives a Porsche. It’s a classic choice for an arrogant playboy overcompensating for some deficiency in his life. Hopefully he’s not hung like a buck gerbil, or it’s going to be an extremely long night.
Once we’re in his car, I pull out my cell and text the sitter that I’ll be home in the morning, and to kiss Javier goodnight for me. She’s not my usual sitter, and I hope she’ll be okay with it. Part of me worries that Ryan is a lunatic, and I should run back inside and tell my boss I can’t go through with it. But I don’t, because the other part of me wants to fuck him and get him out of my system. Maybe then I can evict him from my thoughts.
“Who are you texting?” Ryan asks.
“My sitter.”
“Ah, for your brother.”
I glance over and shoot him a look.
“Do you really think he’s my brother?”
“Oh.” He looks surprised. “But you’re so young.”
I nod. “Twenty-two.”
“And he’s four-ish?”
“Almost six.”
Ryan’s forehead crinkles in thought. I expect some judgmental comment, but instead he says, “Well, shit happens, right?”
“Yep.” I laugh. “Fifteen and stupid happened a lot where I grew up and to most of the girls I work with.”
“Where are your parents?”
I look out the window and try not to cry. Fighting the sharp ache in my chest grows impossible, and I heave a breath. “I can’t.”
“Whoa, hey. It’s fine. You don’t have to talk about it. I want us to have fun tonight.”
I smile, tucking my hands between my knees. “Thank you. I don’t like to talk about them.”
He gives me an understanding nod. When we line up to cross the border, I ask, “Where are we going?”
“My place in San Diego.”
I’m about to ask how he plans to sneak me across the border and then remember our run-in after Papa’s doctor’s appointment. Guess he’s smart enough to realize between that and my lack of an accent, I’m not a native to Mexico.
“Why your place?”
“Because I want to.”
“Do you always do what you want?” I ask, not bothering to hide the sarcasm in my tone.
He turns his head and lifts a brow. “Always.”
“Your place, huh? How do you know I won’t case the place, come back in a few weeks with a truck, and rob you blind?”
“Seriously?”
“I wouldn’t, but you don’t know me. You should be more careful.”
He shrugs but doesn’t look over. “So Jim’s a regular?” he says as a question.
“Yes.”
“Do you have a lot of regulars?”