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I scoff at the idea. ‘Intentions.’ As if he’s some sort of chaperone needing to protect her from me.
Well, maybe he is.
I’ve never wanted to spend time with a woman outside of the bedroom before, but with her, it’s different. She challenges me in a way no woman ever has before. She would probably slap me, or shoot me, if I ever tried to give her jewelry or fly her off to a tropical destination.
Not that I’ve ever done that for a woman before, but plenty have tried to turn me into a man that would.
I also haven’t been able to stop thinking about our kiss. While just for show in the bar’s parking lot, I want to do it again. It was intoxicating. Everything about her draws me in and makes me want things I shouldn’t.
The limo pulls to a stop in front of Dakota’s house. I suck in a deep breath, looking up at the craftsman-style home in front of me. Dakota is waiting on the porch in a form-fitting red dress that leaves nothing to the imagination. The neckline is a deep cut, showing enough cleavage to drive me crazy, but still be respectable for the gala.
I wanted someone to impress the sponsors and damn, did I find it.
“Are you going to go out and meet her or just stare at her all night?” Wyatt asks with a smirk.
“Fuck off.” I open the door, not able to take my eyes off of her.
“Did you come all the way out here just to turn around and go back to your ranch?” she asks with a smirk as she walks down the stairs. Her dress has a slit at the side, giving me a glimpse of her long, lean legs and heels that defy gravity.
“Yes.”
“Why? You could have just sent the limo to pick me up. Aren’t you needed there?”
“And not make a grand entrance?” I ask with a chuckle, slowly closing the gap between us down the stone pathway in her yard.
The truth is, I needed to get off the ranch. I felt like I was suffocating with the caterers and event planners running around preparing. I had been stopped no less than ten times with questions while getting ready. If I didn’t leave, I would have been on the verge of kicking everyone out.
“Hmm… Well, you’re late,” she says, the corner of her mouth lifting in a smirk.
I check my watch. “It’s five-oh-two.”
“Weren’t you the one that expressed how imperative it is that I be ready for five o’clock on the dot?” Her words are laced with sarcasm as she takes her final steps toward me.
“Well, I apologize.” I hold my elbow out to her. “Shall we, sweetheart? We wouldn’t want to be any more later than we already are.”
“Why, Chance Declan, do you have a sense of humour in that personality of yours?” she chuckles, placing her hand in the crook of my arm.
“It’s been known to slip through the cracks from time to time, but I wouldn’t let it get around. Wouldn’t want to ruin my reputation as the town asshole, you know.”
“Of course not,” she chuckles as she climbs into the limo.
I stand behind her, watching her climb in, admiring the way her ass looks in the dress. My brain can’t help but zero in on her lack of panty line.
Fuck me, no underwear.
I look up at the sky, sending up a prayer and a curse. Reaching for anything that’s going to get me through tonight knowing she’s not wearing anything under that high cut dress. Discreetly adjusting myself—suddenly aware of how tight my pants are—I climb in after her.
“You look beautiful, Dakota,” Wyatt remarks as I close the door.
I don’t miss the blush that graces her cheeks. I look between her and Wyatt, desperate to see if there’s more to the comment than Wyatt being nice.
Wyatt is never nice.
“Thank you, Wyatt. Did he drag you along to come pick me up?”
“Yeah, someone has to keep him from telling the driver to take him out of town,” he jokes.
Wyatt also never jokes. What the fuck is going on?
