Make Me (Broke and Beautiful #3)(29)

“Right here,” Ben said from behind Russell, opening his arms just in time for Honey to fling herself into them. He kissed his girlfriend’s forehead and tucked her against his side with a smile that had contentment written all over it. “Louis is en route. Roxy? Try not to freak out.”

“Why?” the actress tilted her head, but Ben stayed quiet. “Shit. What did he—”

A series of three loud beeps interrupted Roxy, her face not even bothering to register shock as a white, stretch limousine glided to a stop at the curb. Louis popped out through the sunroof and spread his arms wide. “Did someone call for a ride?”

“Louis McNally II.” Roxy stomped her foot. “You did not.”

“I did.” When Roxy crossed her arms and made no move to enter the limo, Louis sighed. “I’d rather hold my girl than a steering wheel for three hours. Don’t be mad at me, Rox. I got overexcited at the prospect of seeing you in a bathing suit.”

When Roxy’s lips twitched, Russell knew the fight would end the way all fights ended between his ex-playboy best friend and Roxy. A shit ton of PDA. So he tuned out and let his gaze roam over the limousine, wondering how much Louis had dropped on the damn thing. More than he could afford to chip in on, probably, which left a bad taste in his mouth. He didn’t fault his friend—the guy was generous to a fault—but Russell preferred to pay his way.

Abby rolled her suitcase to the back of the limo, as if she’d done the same hundreds of times. Well versed in this world of limousines and weekend trips to the Hamptons. The driver appeared, presumably to help Abby lift her luggage into the trunk, but before Russell registered his own movement, he’d lunged forward to perform the task himself.

Well, at least she’s looking at you now, dumb-ass.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

Russell swallowed a baseball-sized lump. “I bet you packed a bunch of high heels just to drive me crazy.”

Her expression warmed. “Someone has to do it.”

“Excuse me,” the driver said from behind them, forcing Russell to step away from Abby so the guy could load the other suitcases. Frankly, he wasn’t thrilled over the fact that some stranger was going to be responsible for Abby’s safety for the next three hours, but he figured everyone would give him shit if he asked to see a license.

Abby seemed to remember something at the last second, reaching into the trunk to pull an item out of her suitcase before climbing into the running vehicle. Russell finished helping the driver load the luggage and followed. As he ducked through the entrance, he kept his face neutral, so no one would realize it was his first time in a limo. Jesus, the inside was huge. They could have fit another eight people comfortably. Ben and Honey were cozied up just inside the door, Roxy and Louis making out, as expected, a few feet down the middle row.

Abby sat closest to the driver, trying not to look uncomfortable over being alone. Of course, everyone assumed he would sit beside her. And why wouldn’t they? That’s where he always sat. At her apartment. In the bar. Everywhere. This time should be no different.

It was, though. After what they’d done together, sitting in the darkness on smooth, expensive leather was a temptation he didn’t need. Nor did he need Ben, Louis, or their sharper-than-hell girlfriends questioning him.

Who the hell was he kidding? There was no choice. A mere ten seconds of seeing her all alone was turning him into a certified mental patient. Russell walked in a crouch toward Abby and dropped into the seat beside her, just as the limo started to move. “I’ll give it ten minutes before you fall asleep.”

She looked affronted, but he caught a note of relief, too. “I’m wide-awake. I even brought an activity.”

“An activity.”

“Flash cards.” She dangled a Ziploc baggie in front of her. “You said I could help with your business-loan meeting at the bank. Did you think I’d forget a chance to discuss numbers?”

Was it possible for a heart to burst through a man’s chest cavity? “You, uh. You still want to help me with that?”

“Of course,” she said, too quickly. “Why wouldn’t I?”

I’ve been an *, and she’s too sweet to punish me for it. What he wouldn’t have given at that moment to have the same freedom as his friends. To pull Abby onto his lap and kiss her however long he wanted. To turn off the blinding awareness that he felt like a poseur in this giant car on steroids, while everyone else appeared completely comfortable. Too bad the fancy ride and apparently free liquor that came with it only made the divide between him and Abby feel more pronounced. He hated it. Hated it. But there it was, like one of those neon lasers in a spy movie that would set off an alarm. “What’s on these cards?”

Her shoulders relaxed. “There are eight questions a loan officer typically—”

Music began pumping from speakers all around them—slow and bass-heavy—drowning out Abby’s voice. Russell threw an irritated look toward the opposite end of the car, but Ben merely gave him a thumbs-up and went back to staring at Honey. It took Russell a second to grasp why the loud music presented more of a problem than simply not being able to hear Abby speak. When her breath feathered his ear and lust spread to his groin, however, the clouds cleared and revealed the mind f*ck.

“Um.” Jesus, she was talking an inch from his neck, having scooted closer on the seat. “The first thing any bank officer will want to know is how you’ll use the loan proceeds, where exactly the funds will be allocated to help them make their money back the fastest.” She paused to lick her lips, and he almost died. “Some officers suggest a ten-year business model, but most would rather see a strong five-year plan than a thin, long-term one.”