Raw Deal (Larson Brothers #1)(42)
Chapter Thirteen
When Savannah opened her door at eight o’clock sharp that evening, Mike had a flashback to the old cartoons of his youth when the animated characters saw a pretty girl: eyes bulging out of their heads, tongues wagging, bells going off. She was drop-dead gorgeous, her tall, slim figure encased in pink while her black hair spiraled over her shoulders in glorious ringlets, and the only thought that would pulse through his head for a good five seconds was Legs, legs, legs.
It took every ounce of restraint he had not to shove her back in the room, push her down on the bed, and get those legs around him again.
“Hi,” she said brightly, snapping him out of his fantasies for the moment. He was sure there would be many more fantasies to come. But he managed to force his lust-frozen features into a smile.
“You’re beautiful,” was all that would come out.
He could practically watch the pleasure bloom in her cheeks; he loved that about her. “Thank you. Not so bad yourself,” she said, and yeah, it hadn’t escaped him that she’d been checking him out too. He liked her hungry gaze all over him; it felt f*cking good. He’d opted for all black himself: slacks, shirt, shoes. “Where are we going?” She stepped out and let her door close behind her.
“Do you like seafood?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“I figured, being a New Orleans gal and all.” He winked at her and offered his arm for her to take. She took it, seeming delighted, which delighted him in turn. Anything to see that gorgeous smile. “There’s Spindletop at the Hyatt. I thought you might like it. It slowly revolves and has a fantastic view of the city. Sound good?”
“Sounds incredible.”
This time, they didn’t bump into any of his fans; it was a smooth getaway to his truck waiting outside. He held the door open for her, helping her climb inside while trying not to stare too hard at the ample smooth, silky leg she flashed on the journey. Gentleman, motherf*cker, be a gentleman. Damn, it was hard sometimes.
“Did you buy that dress today?” he asked after boosting himself in on the driver’s side.
“Yes,” she said a little shyly, smoothing her hands over the fabric covering her thighs. “I hoped you would like it.”
“I love it. Did you have fun?”
“Mm-hmm,” she said a little too brightly. “It got a little weird at the end. I told Rowan I was going out with you tonight.”
Mike raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Really? Is she okay with it?”
“Well . . . she’s okay. I wouldn’t say she’s happy about it. But it feels good to not keep it from her.” She rubbed her palms together for a second. “I didn’t say anything about going with you last night, of course.”
He gave her a grin. “Understandable.” Wow. The last thing he’d expected was for her to confess any of this to her family, but it spoke to her character that she wouldn’t keep things from them. Reaching over, he found her fingers on the seat and linked his own through them. “I’m glad you told her.”
“Me too. It was a weight off.”
“The last thing I would want is to cause problems between you and your family,” he told her, feeling the weight she had described settling on his own shoulders at the thought. They had all been through so much; he couldn’t stomach the thought of driving a wedge between them when they needed each other.
“I know that, Michael. And actually . . . I left it in her hands. I told her to say the word and I wouldn’t go tonight. It hurt, but I did it, and I meant it. She didn’t say the word, though. I was so glad.”
Giving her fingers a squeeze, he navigated through traffic and thought about how glad he was too. And what it must have cost her to make that offer, if she really wanted to see where this thing might go.
He damn sure did.
“You’re a wonderful person,” he told her.
Even in the dim light from his dashboard, he could see the troubled line between her delicate eyebrows as she looked at him. “I can’t help thinking,” she said, “if I were really so wonderful, I wouldn’t have needed to ask her.”
A stoplight caught them, and he was glad for it. Putting the truck in park, he turned to face her fully, holding her hand with both of his. “Savannah. What do you want? Not Rowan, not your family, not even me. This weekend, this night, is for you. So you tell me what you want, and I’ll do it, whatever it is, whatever it takes.”
She wet her lips, her eyes searching his face, a sparkle there that he hoped wasn’t the beginning of tears. Even if it was, he deserved them, and he would face them, and wipe them away and do his damnedest to prevent their reappearance.
“I want to be with you,” she said, voice small and trembling.
“Then be with me.”
“Okay.” She smiled and a horn blast sounded behind them, but he didn’t give a f*ck; he leaned in to brush his lips reassuringly across hers before straightening and continuing on.
Yeah, so much for not caring if he drove a wedge into their family. Sending her home tomorrow and never bothering her again would be the best for all involved—she could work on repairing whatever damage they’d done, and he could figure out what the hell his next move was in life. Yet when she was sitting beside him, so soft and lovely and perfect, her fingers through his, he couldn’t imagine doing that. What the f*ck did you do when the “right thing” felt so completely wrong?