Page 19 of Reckless Desires
I’m getting annoyed with her, and it’s about time to get the hell out of the city for the next three days anyway. I make a move to stand from the bed, but she reaches out one arm and tugs me down back onto her mattress.
“Manny fucked your head up. I know you don’t want to admit that, but it’s clear. You loved him and he hurt you. He let you down, and you hate admitting that, even to yourself, but it’s true. It’s the fucking truth, Isla. But are you really going to let Manny get in the way of you having a chance with Bordeaux? What if sex isn’t all he wants? What if he actually likes you?” She coughs heavily before continuing, “Jesus Christ, I don’t know what he sees in you—”
I laugh and swat at her playfully. She’s right, but admitting that Manuel destroyed me would hurt too much. I don’t want to think about it.
“I love you, V. Text me if you need me to come home and take care of you, okay? I bought you more meds earlier and left them in the bathroom cabinet. You know I’d love an excuse to come home early, so I’m only a text or call away.” Spinning on my heel, I walk out of her room.
Just as I round the corner, she calls out, “If you don’t fuck him, I will!”
I might be annoyed with her all over again if she liked men. She’s always been into women, and she’s got a great thing going with her girlfriend Dani.
Her joke makes me think about all the women who really do want a chance with Bordeaux, and I immediately feel my face warm. If Veronica is right, and Bordeaux really does want to spend extra time with me, then that puts an entirely other factor into the equation. My stomach twists as I think about just how much alone time he and I will have together.
And I’m not mad about it.
* * *
Two hours later, I’m sitting in the passenger seat of Bordeaux’s black Challenger, my fingertips gripping the underside of the leather seat as he drifts around the corner leaving my subdivision.
“I expected you to drive something fancier,” I tell him, not taking my eyes off the outstretched road in front of us.
I sense a smile spread across his face. “Oh, did you now? Well, unfortunately for you, you’ve got to ride in this shitty thing for the next couple of hours. Sorry to disappoint.” He laughs. “I hardly ever drive. I don’t need to waste the money.”
It’s smart, really. And this car is gorgeous, well-kept, and nice enough in its own right. It still smells new—and I love ‘new car’ smell. This just isn’t what I expected the Bordeaux Daniels to drive.
I sneak a glance at him as he sinks backward into the seat, spreading his legs and relaxing. His left arm is stretched out, so I get a glimpse at a couple of his tattoos. His hand opens and closes around the wheel, the other hand resting on the cue ball shifter between us.
“Wanna play a game?” he asks, and I’m ready to say no and bury my face in my Kindle, but Veronica’s words haunt me.
“What do you have in mind?” I ask.
I see him smile, not taking his eyes off the road. “Well, twenty questions, of course.”
“Oh, yes, of course. How stupid of me.” I laugh, watching as he turns the rock station down on the radio.
“Holy fuck!” Bordeaux’s voice is loud, and he snaps his neck in my direction.
“What?” I look toward him, my laughter hitching in my chest.
“You just laughed? I made you laugh? I feel so honored.” He looks back to the road, but his smile isn’t easy to hide.
I roll my eyes and he says, “You first. Ask me anything.”
“Why are we playing this stupid game?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest, pretending like I don’t want to know more about him when I know I do.
“God, Isla Robles, you sure are endearing.” He shifts his car as we drift onto the highway to take us out of the city. “Alright. I’ll go first. Why do I get under your skin so much?”
“Oh relax, Bordeaux,” I tell him. “I think you’re just not used to having a woman so unimpressed by another human being.”
I feel regret before the words even leave my mouth. Regret because I am impressed; I just don’t want to admit it. I’m impressed that he is a famous rockstar and yes, he’s cocky, but he’s fucking nice. He isn’t an asshole. He doesn’t turn his nose up at me or anyone else we’ve been around. I am impressed.
“Wow...” He lets out a small chuckle and nods. “You aren’t impressed. Noted.”
I try to backtrack, but it’s no use. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just... It takes more than being a rockstar to impress me.” Shit. Nothing I’m saying sounds right. Veronica would be pissed at my less-than-satisfactory behavior.
“And what does it take to impress Ms. Isla Robles, then?” Bordeaux glances at me before returning his gaze to the open road in front of us.
“I don’t think that’s how this game works,” I say, trying to think of a question to appease him and divert us from this subject.