Method

“No, I’m afraid my wife and I watch a lot of old classics if we watch the telly at all.”

“Oh, well, do yourself a favor and watch Takedown, it’s my favorite.”

“Will do.”

“It’s nice to have someone to talk to, his other driver is a bit of a mute. What’s your name?”

“Sean.”

“Lovely to meet you, Sean.”

“Pleasure.”

A few minutes later, we pull up to a well-lit ranch style home nestled in the hills and confusion sets in. “Oh, Lucas, what are you up to?”

Butterflies emerge and begin to circle in my chest as Sean offers his hand to escort me out of the limo.

“I hope to see you again.”

“Me too,” I say, studying the house. Does he expect me to just knock on the door?

“Problem, Miss?” Sean asks, his hand still outstretched before I take it. “I’m just kind of unsure what I’m doing here.”

I’m still trying to figure out where I am and gain my footing outside the limo when Sean’s thumb slides across my wrist before he lets go. All the air leaves me as I turn my head and meet Sean’s eyes, his light green eyes.

“What the fuc—Oh, my God, Lucas?!”

“Hey there, Dame,” he says, his wrinkled mouth pulling up into a satisfied smile.

My jaw drops as I try to grasp what just happened.

Pleased with himself, he slides his hands in his slacks. “So, Takedown, huh? That’s your favorite? Good to know.”

I’m too stunned to say anything as I study his face. Tentatively, I reach out a hand and run it along his jaw, snatching it back when I touch the latex. “It looks so real.”

He quirks his thick, bushy gray brows and chuckles. “That’s kind of the point.”

“I can’t even be mad right now. That was…” I narrow my eyes. “You were fishing big time.”

His grin grows. “Maybe.”

Still reeling with the aftershock, I shake my head. “You got me good.”

“Seems like it,” he says, milking my gushing to ‘Sean.’

“You’re an ass. If you want to know how I feel about you, just ask.”

“This was a lot more fun.”

“You want to tell me the point of this grand scheme?”

“After.”

“After what?”

“Enough with the questions.” He tugs at my hand closing the car door behind me. “Come on.”

“You’re infuriating.”