Page 10 of Good For Me

“Well, I need to hear more aboutthis.”

“I’ll pass.” She gives me a flirty little grin and all of a sudden it feels like there isn’t enough air in this vehicle. God, why am I driving at all? It makes it very inconvenient to stare at her the way I want to.

Luckily, we’re nearly to our destination. “Well, I’m not sure if they’ll be playing much dubstep in there, but therewillbe plenty of dancing.” I give her a smirk. “Maybe I’ll find you a rave later.”

“You think I need your help finding a rave?” she asks incredulously. “Buddy, I could find a rave in my sleep. You want me to find one right now?”

“Let’s start slow, killer,” I tell her as I pull my Jeep into a parking space. “I’m not sure I could keep up with you at a rave.”

I plan to go around and open her door—that’s the kind of thing a nice guy does, right?—but she’s hopping out before I even have my seat belt undone. “You definitely couldn’t,” she says brightly over her shoulder before she shuts the door.

“I’m so fucked,” I mutter under my breath. Twenty minutes with this woman and I’m pretty sure I’m ready to propose. There’s just something about Jasmine Weaver that gets under my skin, in the best possible way. Every fact she tells me about herself just makes me want to hear a hundred more. I want to know about her club kid days and her job and what it was that made her think she should have given the accounting douchebag even ten minutes of her time.

I want to knowher.

Trying to get my head straight, I climb out of the Jeep and join her on the pavement. She’s looking at the building warily. “What’s wrong?” I ask. “Not enough confetti and strobe lights for you?”

She rolls her eyes. “Is this a frat boy bar? Is that where you brought me?”

I throw my head back and laugh. “No. But please say that to the owner when we get inside. I love watching her head explode.” She shoots me a weird look but I ignore it. There’s not really any good way to describe The Purple Cat. It’s better just to experience it.

“Hang on,” she says, when I start to pull her toward the door. “I’m not dressed right for this.

I study her outfit, trying not to get stuck on the curve of her breasts.Keep it together, man.I probably should have suggested she change back at Davie’s—her apartment is right upstairs—but I’d been so eager to get her out of there before she changed her mind.

“You look great.” My voice comes out way huskier than I planned, but comeon. I’m looking at the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life. “Maybe not the most typical dancing outfit, but I’m sure you’ll make it work.”

“Wait a second.” I stand there, mute, while she starts to unbutton her shirt. She must see me gaping, because she rolls her eyes. “Put your tongue back in your mouth, River,” she says. “I’m not getting naked.”

“Damn shame,” I can’t help but say and she pauses unbuttoning long enough to jab an elbow into my ribs.

She pulls her blouse from her shoulders, revealing a simple black tank with skinny little straps. It must be an undershirt type of thing, but all I can think about is the way it shows off so much of her olive skin.

I’m already struggling to stay upright when she makes it a million times worse. She pulls a tube of lipstick from her purse and uses her reflection in the passenger window to carefully apply it. My eyes trace every movement as she slides deep red color across her plump lips. If that wasn’t bad enough, Jas reaches up and plucks a few pins from her hair, the carefully arranged strands falling around her shoulders. My entire focus goes to that hair, a curtain of dark chocolate silk that I want to slip my hands into. Good God, how is she even more beautiful than she was a minute ago?

Then she bends over—don’t stare at her ass, don’t stare at her ass—and tucks her slim fitting dress slacks into her combat boots. She rights herself and strikes a little pose. “Better?”

I literally can’t find words. In just a few simple tweaks she went from a woman ready to kick ass in the boardroom to a goddess dressed in black. Nearly black hair, little black tank, those fucking boots. And then the splash of red on her lips. She’s perfection.

“River?”

I wag my head back and forth like a dog trying to shake off water. God, how am I supposed to even function? “Much more casual,” I manage to choke out.

Please marry me.

She gives me a little grin and turns on her heels. “All right. Let’s see this not-frat-boy-bar then.”

I take a deep breath, wondering if this was a smart idea after all, and lead the way across the parking lot. As we get closer, the music from the patio gets louder and bright lights shine from behind the tall bamboo fencing. There’s not a bouncer or a line to get in—it isn’t that kind of place—so I bring Jas right through the gate.

She stops in her tracks as she takes in the patio. “This is where you want to hang out?”

I chuckle. “It grows on you. Come on.”

I take her hand, trying not to squeal like my fourteen-year-old sister when she wraps her fingers around mine, and go in search of a table. The Purple Cat is crowded, as it always is on weekends when the weather is nice. Luckily, I spot a familiar face.

“Hey, Riv,” Brenda says as she passes with a tray of drinks. “There’s a table in the corner.”

“Thanks, Bren,” I say, pausing to kiss her on the cheek. “Is she around?”