Elite (Eagle Elite #1)(42)

“Absolutely.”

“Cool.”

“Want to know where?” Geez, he was grinning like a little kid.

“You want to tell me, don’t you?”

“So bad.” He leaned over the steering wheel and laughed. I’d never seen him so animated or excited.

“Surprise me.”

“I get too excited when it comes to surprises,” he grumbled. “Okay, I’m going to try, but you can’t talk to me, or else I’m going to blurt everything and ruin it, okay?”

“Not talk to you? Whatever will I do?”

His smile turned wicked. “I’ve got a few ideas of other things you could do with your mouth—”

“And I’m pretty sure if I searched hard enough I could find a gun and shoot off your manparts, so, say that again, I dare you.”

He gulped. “Silence it is.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“Damn.” He shook his head. “Well played.”

“I know.” I smirked and leaned against the window, trying not to be too obvious about the fact that I was watching every single move he made.

Seriously, the guy made driving sexy. In that moment, watching him lick his lips and every once in a while suck on his lip ring, I realized, if he was in Hollywood, he’d be a hit. He’d make millions and women would cry in his presence.

If he was in corporate America, he’d be the hot CEO that secretaries would stab each other to work for.

No matter what Nixon decided to do, he’d be successful, and it wasn’t just his good looks, though they helped. It was the confidence behind his good looks. I mean, I knew I wasn’t supermodel gorgeous, yet being with him didn’t make me feel as insecure as it should. Instead, it made me feel like I could do anything.

If he told me I could be a rock star, I might just believe him.

It was scary when someone’s presence had that much power to alter the way you felt about yourself, because what happens when you lose yourself in that person? Do you disappear, or do you just mold into what they view you as?

Too many deep thoughts for a first date.

“Almost there.” Nixon reached over and touched my thigh. His hand stayed there, warming my skin until his touch was almost searing.

Holy Superman, his touch even had magical powers.

“Okay.” Nixon pulled down a dirt road. “Close your eyes.”

I did as he said, totally noticing before I closed them that we were nowhere near the city. “Are you going to kill me?”

“No.” He laughed.

I relaxed, until he added. “I didn’t bring my silencer.”

Stiffening under his touch I tried to jerk away from him. His laughter made me want to give him a black eye.

“Trace, calm down. This is supposed to be fun, remember?”

“Yeah,” I said breathlessly.

The car turned off. Cold air hit me as the door opened and then shut again. Seconds later, my door was opened, my seatbelt unbuckled, and Nixon was picking me up in his arms.

I leaned against his firm chest and told myself to stop sighing like the hormonal teenager I was. I could have sworn my estrogen spiked just being around the guy, as if my feminine body was begging me to do more than touch him.

Clearing my throat, I licked my lips and waited.

Finally, he set me on my feet. “Open your eyes.”

I did.

And almost collapsed into blackness. Not, because he hit me on the head, or because what he did was so incredible, but because it was the most thoughtful thing anyone had ever done for me, and it was the devil giving me the one thing I missed more than Grandpa.

Home.

“Are those—” I told myself to swallow back the tears.

“Cows.” Nixon laughed. “Yes, real live cows. I hear they even moo from time to time.”

“And this…” He pointed behind us. “Is our picnic under the stars.”

“With the cows,” I added, still stunned.

“With the cows. Though I’ve heard a few goats live out here too. Don’t want to leave out any farm creatures and take a chance on offending them.”

“Right.” My lower lip trembled. Crap. I was going to cry.

Nixon didn’t say anything. He simply pulled me into his arms and kissed my head. “I know you miss it. I know you miss your grandpa.” He sighed and ran his hand across my chest where my cross necklace lay. “And I know you miss your grandma. But being at Elite, it’s where you belong. As much as you miss all of this.” He pointed at the pasture. “You’re home. Right here.” In my arms is what was implied, and I still couldn’t figure out why I believed him. I mean, I’d only known him for two weeks. So why did it feel like I’d known him all my life?

“Hungry?” Nixon released me and walked over to the basket.

“Starved.” I went over to help him, but he shook his head. “Nope, you sit right here.” He clicked a button on his keys that opened the trunk of the car and then picked me up and sat me on the edge of the Range Rover. “There now. Stay put while I get this all ready.”

Getting it all ready involved him laying down at least four layers of blankets — apparently it rained last night — and setting out different containers filled with lasagna and spaghetti.