Driving Stick (Bride of the Billionaire) - Page 3
“Yeah, I was just kidding,” I lie. “Like you were.”
“Oh, I wasn’t kidding,” he replies. “You must have done some modeling work before.”
“No…”
“Come on,” he scoffs. “What? You seriously drive Uber for a living?”
“I do now,” I reply defensively. “I got fired last month from my old job.”
“Which was what?” he asks.
I take a right as instructed by the GPS. “I waited tables at the Steak Shack up the road.”
“Christ,” he replies. I see him shaking his head out of the corner of my eye. “I don’t know what I’d do if I went to dinner and you ended up waiting on me.”
My head is spinning. This must be a prank. Is he really…coming onto me? Or is this just some kind of game to him? I try to steal a quick glance at him, but he’s still looking at me. Our eyes meet again and my stomach twists again. When I first saw the Uber request come up on my phone, I was excited. It’s a long drive and a lot of money. But now, I’m not so sure…
How am I going to make it all the way to Manhattan with him looking at me like that? I already feel like his eyes are going to melt me into a little pile of jelly on the seat, and we have two more hours to go!
“You make a lot of money doing this?” he asks. Finally, something I can actually talk about without stumbling all over my words.
“It’s not bad,” I reply. “Could be better.”
“I can give you better,” he says. I frown and give him a look.
“That sounds like something a murderer says before murdering somebody,” I tell him. “Are you going to murder me?”
Caleb grins, starting the melting process. “Only if you’re into that.”
A laugh rises out of me without warning. I giggle like a dork and quickly slap a palm over my mouth to stifle it. But it’s too late. Caleb heard it and is already laughing too.
“I—I’m sorry. I laugh like a dork—”
“Don’t worry about it,” he chuckles. “It’s not dorky. It’s cute.”
Whatever you say.
“But seriously,” he continues. “I can give you better. A lot better.”
I almost don’t want to ask, but we’re going to be stuck with each other for a while, so I might as well keep the conversation flowing. “How’s that?”
“Work for me,” he tells me. “Be my private driver. I’ll put you on salary.”
Salary? Driver? Is he kidding? The only people I could imagine having a driver would be some super rich businessman or a mafia boss, and Caleb doesn’t look like either.
“You think I’m joking,” he says. My thoughts must be written all over my face. “I am not joking. How’s ten grand a month sound?”
I can’t even stop myself from glancing quickly over at him for signs that he’s messing with me. But he looks…like he’s telling the truth.
“Seriously?” I ask. “Come on. Don’t mess with me.”
“I’m not messing with you,” he says.
“So…you’re some rich guy?”
He shifts in his seat. “I do all right for myself.”
“And you need to hire me to drive you around?” I ask. “Don’t they have services for things like that?”
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