Emily was too nice for her own good. But me?Iwasn't nice. "So leave the champagne and order something else."
"But that would be wasteful," she protested with another laugh. "And besides, I'm sure their champagne is really good."
I smiled. "Not as good as vodka."
She gave me a strange look. "How'd you know?"
"How'd I know what?"
"It's my favorite alcohol…well when I'm doing shots, that is."
Interesting. "Mine, too."
"Really?" She gave the distant bar a wistful glance. "Maybe I should've ordered one – a shot, I mean." But then she winced. "But that wouldn't be very classy, would it?"
I'd been with plenty of classy girls – or more accurately, rich girls and wannabee climbers whothoughtthey were classy because they wore the right clothes or ordered the right drink.
Without exception, they all bored the shit out of me. But the funny thing was, I didn't go for trashy girls either – girls who offered blowjobs under the table and thought they were being sexy.
But Emily was different – sexyandsweet, with enough attitude to keep it interesting.
"Screwclass," I said with a laugh. "Trust me, it's overrated."
Her eyes clouded with confusion, as if my laughter had caught her off-guard. On this, I could relate more than she realized. My own laugh had caughtmeoff-guard, too. I wasn't known for being a laughing guy, but there was something about Emily that made laughter come easy.
Judging from her expression, she was more surprised thanIwas – surprised and a little uneasy. I could see it in her gaze and sense it in the sudden stiffness of her hip against mine. Provingme right, she asked in a hushed voice, "Why are you being so nice to me?"
Her blunt honesty made me smile. "What, you want me to be rude?"
"Well, thatisyour reputation, and I know you don't really like me."
She was wrong."What makes you say that?"
She looked at me like I was crazy. "Are you serious?"
I was no idiot. I'd given her plenty of reasons to think I hated her, but I was oddly curious what she would say. "Dead serious."
"Okay…this isn't a complaint, because I know I've been paid in lieu of an apology, but youdidleave me on the side of the road yesterday."
Yeah. I had.And the fucked-up thing was, I hadn't wanted to. In the case of Cassandra, it had been easy. We'd been parked at a truck stop with two open restaurants and good cell coverage. And she'd been spoiling for a fight.
She'd stormed from the car even after I'd asked her to stop. Hell, I'd even offered to drive her home. But Cassandra had wanted a scene, preferably in front of a wide audience. She'd gotten one, too, by daring me to drive away.
Like I wouldn't.
I did.
And I didn't look back.
If I were placing blame, I'd give most of it to Cassandra, who'd picked that particular moment to demand that we – in her words – take our relationship to the next level.
Could I say the same thing about Emily?
No.She hadn't wanted to argue, but she hadn't taken my crap either. Yeah, she'd called my bluff, but I had been a dick to drive off. Some might say that being a dick was one of my specialties.
I was damned good at it, too. I wasn't ashamed to admit it. And yet I heard myself say, "Sorry about that."
Emily blinked. "Wait…what'd you say?"
