Page 30 of The Player's Club
“Mature, sure.” Her eyes sparkled now. “But boring. And it also told me that Todd wasn’t the type of guy who’d fight for me.”
“He’s an idiot,” I growled.
“Maybe.” She inhaled. “Or maybe I am.” Now, she wouldn’t look me in the eye. “I do have some questions for you. About that contract and everything.”
My dick stiffened. “Do you?”
“I’ve been thinking about your . . . proposal.” Her lashes fluttered. “And I’d like to discuss it.”
“Well, then let me take you to my place.” When she blinked in surprise, I added, “To talk. That’s it. Scout’s honor.” I held up my hand with my index and middle fingers pressed together.
“Were you a Boy Scout?”
“Would you be shocked if I told you I was an Eagle Scout?”
Elodie gaped at me. “What? Seriously?”
“Once again—Scout’s honor.” I grinned. “I grew up in Idaho. Being a Boy Scout was pretty much a requirement. Maybe someday I’ll even show you how to start a fire.”
“Come on. We’ll figure out how to get you back to your car later.” I opened the passenger door for Elodie, suddenly wishing I’d driven one of my nicer cars tonight. But she didn’t seem to mind getting into my Corolla. In fact, she seemed mostly amused that my car was so old that it had both manual windows and locks. She played with the window crank, her grin infectious.
“I think this car is older than me,” she joked as we got on the freeway.
I patted the steering wheel. “A lady never discloses her age.”
“Love the little tree air freshener, by the way. I feel like this car would be incomplete without it.”
“It even has a cigarette lighter. I’m only missing the fuzzy dice.” I chuckled.
We drove in comfortable silence. Elodie shot me a few shy glances, making a handful of pithy remarks about my driving abilities as I weaved in and out of traffic.
When we arrived at my place, she’d fallen silent. I put in the code for the gate, and then we were traveling the long driveway toward the multicar garage.
“I think you brought me here just to intimidate me,” Elodie joked as I steered her inside. Her mouth was agape as she took in the surroundings, but she started laughing when I led her farther into the house.
“What’s so funny?” Now I was just confused.
She flung her arms wide. “This is the most bachelor-y bachelor pad I’ve ever seen.”
I took in my living room: furnished with a large couch, a flat-screen TV, and one rickety side table perfect for setting your beer down.
“It’s not that bad,” I protested.
She put her hands on her hips. “You have a huge-ass house but don’t even take the time to furnish it?”
“There’s a couch . . .”
Elodie began wandering around, much to my chagrin. The kitchen was pretty bare, I had to admit. When she opened the fridge, she started laughing at what she saw.
“Red Bull, mustard, and—is that a twenty-pound bag of shredded cheese?” She gave me a confused look.
“Cheese is paramount.” I closed the fridge and went to my bar, which was at least very well-stocked. “Wine? Beer? Something harder?”
“Wine is fine.”
I decided to take her upstairs. The second floor included multiple bedrooms and was better furnished. The primary bedroom had an adjoined sitting room. I turned on the gas fireplace and had Elodie sit beside me on the couch.
“Okay, this room is better,” she admitted, smiling at me. “Did you just run out of money to finish the rest of the house?”