Fallen Too Far (Too Far, #1)(30)

She laughed. “You’re going to look as out of place tonight as I do at your parties. This should be fun. Come on, rock-star spawn,” she said, looking pleased before heading toward the door.

I hurried around her and opened the door for her. Something else I should have been doing all along. “Since your friend is riding with us, why don’t we take one of my cars? We ’d all be more comfortable than in your truck,” I suggested. I wanted her sitting up front with me. Close to me. So I could look at those legs . . . and boots. I didn’t want to be crammed into a truck with Bethy.

She glanced over her shoulder at me. “But we’d fit in better if we took my truck.”

I pulled out the small remote from my pocket to open the door to the garage where my Range Rover was parked. Blaire swung her gaze over and watched as the door opened.

“That’s certainly impressive,” she said.

“Does that mean we can take mine? I’m not crazy about sharing a seat with Bethy. The girl likes to touch things without permission,” I said. She’d never touched me, but I had heard about her.

“Yes, she does. She’s a bit of a flirt, isn’t she?” Blaire said, grinning.

“ ‘Flirt’ is a kind word for her,” I replied.

“OK. Sure. We can take the badass Rush Finlay’s killer wheels, if he insists,” Blaire said with a shrug.

Score. Now I needed to get her into the passenger seat before she tried to climb into the back. I headed toward the Range Rover, nodding for her to follow.

I opened the door for her, and she stopped and looked up at me. “Do you open all your friends’ car doors?”

I never opened doors for girls. It made them expect more. But with Blaire, I wanted to. I wanted her to feel cherished. Damn, this was dangerous. “No,” I told her honestly, and moved away to get in on my side. I shouldn’t flirt. I shouldn’t treat her like there could be more.

I climbed in. I wasn’t sure what to say to her now.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound rude,” she said, breaking the silence.

I was making this weird for her. I had to work on that if this was going to work. “No. You’re right. I just don’t have any female friends, so I’m not good at balancing what I should do and what I shouldn’t.”

“So you open doors for your dates? That’s a very chivalrous thing to do. Your mother raised you right.” She almost sounded jealous. But . . . no. That made no sense.

“Actually, no, I don’t. I . . . you just seem like the kind of girl who deserves to have her door opened. It just made sense in my head at the moment. But I get what you’re saying. If we’re going to be friends, I need to draw a line and stay behind it.”

A small smile touched her lips. “Thank you for opening it for me. It was sweet.”

I just shrugged. I wasn’t sure I could say more without sounding like an idiot.

“We need to pick Bethy up at the country club. She’ll be at the office back behind the clubhouse at the golf course. She had to work today. She’s showering and dressing there,” Blaire explained.

I pulled out of the driveway and turned toward the club. Blaire and Bethy seemed like two completely different people. The idea of them being friends didn’t fit. “How did you and Bethy become friends?”

“We worked together one day. I think we were both in need of a friend. She’s fun and free-spirited. Everything I’m not.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “You say that like it’s a bad thing. You don’t want to be like Bethy. Trust me.”

She didn’t argue with me. At least she knew that Bethy was not someone to imitate. When she didn’t say anything else, I focused on getting us to the club and not staring at her legs, which she’d just crossed, making her skirt even shorter. Blaire had great legs. The little bit of sun she’d gotten on the beach made her skin glow.

The idea of those legs wrapped around me made me tremble. I kept my eyes on the road, and when she shifted, I didn’t look down. She was moving her legs. Damn.

When I parked in front of the office, she opened the door immediately and jumped down. Shit. Was she moving to let Bethy into the passenger seat? I didn’t want Bethy next to me.

Blaire had started for the door when it opened, and out stepped Bethy, dressed like she charged for sex. Red leather shorts? Really?

“What the hell are you doing in one of Rush’s rides?” she asked, looking at the Range Rover and then back at Blaire.

“He’s going with us. Rush wants to check out a honkytonk, too. So . . .” Blaire glanced back at me.

“This is seriously going to cramp your chances of picking up a man. Just saying,” Bethy said, as she walked down the steps. Then she paused and took in Blaire’s outfit. “Or not. You look hot. I mean, I knew you were gorgeous, but you look really hot in that outfit. I want me some real cowgirl boots. Where’d you get those?” No shit. She looked f*cking amazing. I hadn’t spent time around Bethy, but I liked the fact she wasn’t too catty to admit that Blaire looked amazing.

“Thank you, and as for the boots, I got them for Christmas two years ago from my mom. They were hers. I had loved them since she bought them, and after she got, after . . . she got sick, she gave them to me.”

My chest constricted. I hadn’t known they were her mother’s. Fuck. I’d been thinking about doing naughty things to her in them, and they were a memory from her mother. I felt like an ass.