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I flush and look out the window so he can’t see the smile I’m unable to suppress. I suppose my ass isn’t that bad, and the thought of Rhett checking it out is making my nipples stiffen. His hands cupping it as his mouth dominates mine…
Urgh. This was not supposed to be that kind of car ride!
“Well I’ll have you know that you’re not my usual type either,” I say, just to change the subject.
“I’m everyone’s type.”
I laugh so loudly it wipes the teasing smirk right off Rhett’s face. “Okay, you don’t have to be mean about it,” he mutters.
“Sorry,” I say, wiping a tear from the corner of my eye. “No, I really am,” I insist. “It’s just that I’ve heard that line before. Always from rich guys. And believe me, I’ve never looked twice at any of ‘em.”
“So who catches your eye then?” he asks. He still sounds a little offended.
“My Midwestern heart has always had a soft spot for blue collar boys,” I say. “Unfortunately, my luck has been pretty bad weeding out the honest, hard-working variety.”
“You mean—?”
“Yeah, I’ve dated two guys with pet pythons. Of course, they were preferable to the ones who weren’t actively breaking the law every other day.”
Rhett looks at me like he’s seeing me in an entirely new light. “You’re into bad boys?” he asks. “You? Little Ms. Rules Are What Separates Us From the Animals?”
“And how do you think I got that way?” I ask. “Too many times bailing ex-boyfriends out of jail only to come home the next day and find they’ve stolen my rainy day fund and also an urn containing my grandmother’s ashes.”
“Wait, that last part happened more than once?”
“Once was enough to never forget it. I still don’t know what happened to Nana.” I sigh. “I assume she’s sitting in some pawnshop with bars on the windows in East Brooklyn.”
Rhett whistles. “Well I guess I should be glad you deem my past girlfriends ‘boring’. I don’t know if I could handle your idea of exciting.”
“Trust me,” I say. “You’re exciting enough on your own.” I pause, and then ask, “What was your longest relationship?”
Rhett chews on the inside of his cheek and doesn’t respond.
“I mean, my longest was only ten months,” I say. “I know, for pushing thirty, it’s kinda sad, but bad taste plus my overwhelming job equals—”
“Three weeks.”
My eyes pop and my breath hitches. “What?” I gasp, turning on him. I immediately feel bad about my reaction. “Uh, I mean… That’s—”
“Don’t bother,” he says. “I know it’s unusual. It’s just…” He taps his long fingers on the steering wheel as he tries to find the right words.
“It’s always so apparent what they really want,” he says finally. “The superficial ones want my body and my money. The smart ones are more interested in getting some top position at the bank. They think I’m an idiot. And of course my mother would hate them all. So after college, I just stopped trying to make anything work beyond one night stands. Easier that way.”
Less painful that way. The words go unsaid but are completely understood.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
“It is what it is,” he says in a tone that says it’s best to end the conversation here.
We drive north in more or less comfortable silence up the side of Lake Michigan. The snow storms have abated at last, leaving behind a thick blanket of powder. It’s a clear day, not a cloud in the sky, and the sun reflects off the lake and the snow with blinding intensity.
After another twenty minutes or so, Rhett takes us off the highway.
We’ve left the city behind, trading apartment buildings for lake homes set on sprawling lawns. Instead of driving west toward the more populated areas that might house a dealership, Rhett stays near the water, at last pulling up a long, winding driveway leading toward a modest two-story cottage.
“You can head back if you’d like,” Rhett says, breaking the silence as we come to a stop.
“What if you don’t end up liking it?” I ask.
