Page 86 of Bourbon Kingdom
“I’ll let you know,” she smirked. “Okay, if you win, we come back here, but if I win, I get to drive your car.”
I knew that was coming. I’d called it the moment I stepped inside the Aston. Even though my car was my baby, nothing was more important to me than Goldie. The bet was by far worth it, especially if I had a shot at staying with Goldie for the night.
“Deal,” I agreed, while I held out my hand to shake on it.
She shook my hand with a giant smile on her face.
“Oh, you are so going down, Mr. Colby.”
“Keep dreaming, Little One. I don’t lose.”
“We’ll see about that,” she said, as she brushed past me, leaving a trail of her intoxicating perfume behind her. Fuck, I needed to start thinking of embarrassing things to do to her, because hell if I was going to lose. Nope, I would be ending my night in her small room with the average-sized bed and with my little one in my arms. There was no other choice for me.
Chapter Twenty-Six
“Shut Up and Dance”
GOLDIE
The drive from Diego’s apartment to Armstrong Park, where the festival was held, was a short one, just five minutes, but it felt like half an hour as I was trapped in the small confines of Jett’s Aston Martin, watching the muscles in his forearms flex as he shifted gears. Life was so unfair. When did a guy’s forearms become the sexiest part of their bodies? Well, one of the sexiest parts of their bodies, next to the cock, abs, and dick divots.
“Did you just say dick divots?” Jett asked, as he parallel parked into a spot on St. Phillip Street.
Did I really say dick divots out loud? Was I talking out loud that entire time?
“Um, what are you talking about?” I asked, trying to pass it off.
He cut the engine and turned toward me, swinging his arm to the back of my seat, making him that much closer. “You were mumbling to yourself and the only thing I caught was at the end, you said dick divots.”
“Huh, imagine that,” I smiled, as I tried to get out of the car, but of course the infuriating man stopped me.
“Goldie, please explain to me what dick divots are.”
“You’re annoying, you know that? Can’t you ever let something go?”
“No,” he smiled brightly.
Huffing, I crossed my arms over my chest and said, “Dick divots are those little things that point to your dick, turning every honest woman into an idiot as they direct their gaze down a path past your waistline and straight to your redwood. You know, the v-cut,” I said, while pointing to his side.
“Not sure what you’re referring to. Can you show me? Need me to lift my shirt?”
“No!” I practically yelped, not wanting to see one bit of Jett’s body. It was bad enough the man wore his sleeves rolled up and the top few buttons of his shirt undone, showing off his perfectly bare and tight chest.
Fuck, he was a walking god. All bronze-like with his designer clothes that were simple but looked so damn good on him, like he was a walking Ralph Lauren catalogue.
“Come on, little one,” he winked, as he got out of the car and came to my side to open the door for me, always the gentleman.
Helping me out of the car, he grabbed my hand and shut the door, just as a man walked up to us to take Jett’s keys, once again the guardian of the car, just like our first-ever date. Some things never changed.
The entire walk into the festival, Jett held onto my hand tightly, making my heart beat rapidly in my chest. It was just a little hand holding, but it was who the hand was attached to that had my tongue hanging out of my mouth like a cat in heat.
“Have you ever been to the festival before?” Jett asked, as he led us through the crowd with ease.
“No, surprisingly I’ve never been.”
“That is surprising, given your infatuation with the classic dish.” I gave him a sideways look, which made him laugh. “Chef told me how much gumbo you used to eat at the club; I made sure he cooked it once a week.”
“So, you’re the reason I had to work my ass off in the gym every week?”
