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“Don’t laugh at me.”
He shook his head. “I’m not laughing at you.”
“But you’re laughing.”
“I’m laughing because it wasn’t something I expected out of you.”
“Expected out of me? Like you know me at all to be able to expect anything from me,” I said, disgruntled. I slumped down in my seat like a sullen teenager and crossed my arms.
“Oh, come on. I’m not trying to get under your skin. I’m just saying I judged a book by its cover, and I couldn’t be more wrong about it.”
I bit my lip. “I’m afraid to ask what you thought of me when you came to bail us out of jail, but I kind of want to know.”
“Well, for one, I was surprised to find that Logan wasn’t a six-foot three dude, but instead an attractive blonde.”
I sailed past the attractive part, not wanting to dwell too much on it. “Okay, what else?”
“I thought you were a rich bitch,” he admitted. “I saw your get-up. Designer dress. Designer heels. Flawless makeup. Reminded me immediately of the country club set my parents call friends.”
“Okay, but how did you know my dress was designer?” I asked in surprise.
“Because of how it fit you.”
“Fit me how?” I demanded.
“You can tell when someone is wearing cheap shit. It’s not cut right. Bad stitching, low quality fabric. What you were wearing looked like it had been made for you, like specifically for you. And those heels… Fuckin’ A.”
“What about my heels?”
“They made your legs miles long.”
Sparks of excitement danced in my belly. “It sounds like you were checking me out,” I said lightly.
“Yeah. I was definitely checking you out. And then I saw the ring on your finger.”
“And that made you stop looking?”
“Nah. I didn’t stop looking.” He flashed a teasing grin. “You can check out the merchandise without buying.”
My stomach twirled in exhilaration. Smoke was being honest and the fact that he found me attractive soothed my bruised ego.
“Well, for the sake of honesty, you didn’t match the picture I had of you in my head,” I said.
“No?”
“Definitely not.”
“What was your picture?”
“Handlebar mustache. Gray hair and a ponytail. Potbelly.”
“Ouch.”
“And a bandanna. One of those doo rags the old, fat bikers wear.”
“Double ouch.”
“I didn’t expect you to be so...so…”
