Never Got Over You

by Whitney G.

  Green-Eyed Sexy Guy laughed and stepped back. “You want anything from inside?”

  I shook my head and he looked me up and down again—pinning me to the spot with his heated gaze.

  “I’ll be right back.”

  As he walked away, I tried to think of all the murder mysteries I’d watched over the years. Tried to remember if, “girl jumps into guy’s truck, guy offers ride, guy slashes girl’s throat” was ever a featured episode.

  There was definitely one like that, but it was the girl offering the ride.

  He walked out of the store minutes later, armed with two brown paper bags.

  “Okay, so here’s the deal,” he said, tossing me a bag of Cheese Puffs. “You’ve got two options. Plan A: I can drive you about ten miles up the road and you can call whoever you know to come get you.”

  “I like that plan.” I didn’t need to hear the other one. “Let’s do that plan.”

  “Or,” he said, smiling, “there’s Plan B, where you can save everyone’s time by just letting me take you home.”

  “How exactly does that plan save you time?”

  “Because if you pick Plan A, I’m going to wait until this person comes to get you,” he said. “I’m not going to abandon you and let you wait alone.”

  “So, you’re a gentleman?”

  “I’m an opportunist.” He smiled, and I felt my heart racing against my chest, felt my knees going weak.

  Do not get into the car with this man, Kate. Serial killers can be sexy as hell, too.

  “I appreciate the compliment, but I’m not a serial killer.” He looked at me and I realized I’d uttered those words aloud. “Here.” He pulled out his wallet and flipped it open, showing his driver’s license.

  Above his gorgeous picture was his name. James S. Garrett. According to the numbers under it, his birthday was a month after mine, and he was five years older than me.

  He put his license away and tossed the bags into the truck. “So,” he said, gently tugging at my left bunny ear, “do I need to worry about you being a serial killer? Do you have a name?”

  “Kate Ken―” I coughed, remembering what he’d said about my family. “Kate Kennedy.”

  “Hmmm.” He moved closer, the scent of his cologne making me want to close the gap between us and demand that he press his perfect lips against mine. “So, Kate Kennedy, what’s it going to be? Are you waiting or are you riding?”

  “Riding.” The word came out of my mouth before I could think on it any longer. “Plan A.”

  IT ONLY TOOK HALF AN hour of riding in James’ truck for me to fully understand what Sarah Kay meant by “a guy who can make your panties wet.” Mine were soaked—a complete lost cause, due to James staring at me whenever we slowed, or him gently pushing the bunny ear off my forehead whenever the wind knocked it out of place.

  The only sounds between us were the rushing winds against the open windows and the faint sound of Lake Tahoe’s water lapping against the shore in the distance.

  Still, ever so often, he’d look over at me and smile in a way that sent butterflies fluttering against my stomach. Or, he’d hand me a snack and let his fingers linger against mine for a few seconds longer than necessary.

  As we approached the bend near the outskirts of Reno, he cleared his throat.

  “Who did you come to the party with?”

  “My sister and her boyfriend,” I said. “It was their idea in the first place.”

  “What about your boyfriend?” He looked over at me as we approached a stop sign.

  “My boyfriend couldn’t make it.” I shrugged. “What about your girlfriend? I’m sure she wouldn’t appreciate you taking some random girl home after you were kissing her against a tree.”

  He let out a low laugh. “She probably wouldn’t. If she was actually my girlfriend.” He paused. “She was a drunk friend and I was helping until her real boyfriend showed up.”

  “Sure you were.”

  “It’s the truth,” he said. “Besides, if I was kissing her, I can guarantee that she wouldn’t have been able to walk away that easily. She wouldn’t have been able to keep her balance at all, and I’m pretty sure she would be the one sitting in my front seat feeling turned on, not you.”

  I ignored his “feeling turned on” comment and crossed my legs. “You honestly think you’re that good of a kisser?”

  “I know that I am.”

  “Well, for what’s it’s worth,” I said, “I think you’re being a bit too cocky about your skills. My boyfriend gives me plenty of amazing kisses, and I’ve never had a problem walking away from any of them.”

  “Then it sounds like you need a new boyfriend.” His lips curved into a smile. “We need to make a stop in twenty minutes.”

  “Is it at the place where the police will eventually find my body?”

  “No, that place is seventeen miles away. We still have plenty of time before we get there.”

  I shot him a look, and he laughed.

  “You keep uncrossing and re-crossing your legs,” he said. “I’m assuming you need to go to the bathroom. That, or ...” His voice trailed off, and I didn’t bother asking him what he was trying to imply by that “or”.

  Blushing, I stared out the window as we coasted past more of Reno’s mountains.

  He pulled off on an exit and steered his truck into the parking lot of a shopping center. Turning up the heat on his dashboard, he unbuckled his seatbelt.

  “I don’t have to go to the restroom,” I said.

  “I’m aware.” He smiled before stepping out. “I’ll be right back.”

  Were there any Mystery Murder episodes about ‘girl being left in a shopping center parking lot seconds before the guy comes back and sets car on fire?’

  James returned minutes later, cup of coffee and a fuzzy blue blanket in hand.

  “Here.” He handed the cup to me first. “Two sugars. right?”

  “Yeah. How’d you guess?”

  He pointed to the back of my phone case. The Pier Autumn Coffee logo, an orangey red leaf, was printed under two sugar cubes as my “how I do coffee” choice.

  “My neighbors go there all the time.” He handed me the blanket. “I got this for you since you’re wet ...” He let out a low laugh. “From the rain.”

  For the first time in my life, I was tempted to say, “Fuck it. Take me home with you.” I couldn’t believe I was this aroused from a smile and a few simple touches.

  “Has anyone ever told you that you say a lot of your thoughts out loud?” James looked at me as he cranked the engine, that cocky smile tugging at his lips again. “If you want to go home with me, I’m more than open to that. Is that what you want?”

  I didn’t even know what to say. I sipped my coffee and avoided looking at him for the next several minutes—not trusting myself to utter any decent words.

  “How much gas money am I going to owe you for this ride?” I asked, finally.

  “None,” he said. “I’ll settle for your phone number.”

  “I don’t think my boyfriend would like that.”

  “I don’t think your boyfriend exists.” He reached down and picked up a bag. “By the way,” he said, placing it onto my lap, “That small gas station did sell phone chargers. I bought you one.”

  “What? You’ve had this the whole time?”

  “That’s an interesting way of saying, thank you.” He smirked.

  “Thank you for hiding the phone charger for one and a half hours.” I plugged it into the cigarette lighter and connected my phone. “That was very thoughtful of you.”

  “If I’d given it to you earlier, you would’ve just scrolled on social media the whole time. Figured I’d make you focus on me, instead of letting you obsess over stuff online.”

  “I wouldn’t have done that.” I paused, literally logging into Facebook the moment my phone charged to one percent. “Okay. Maybe you’re right. It’s just a habit, though. I’m not obsessed at all.”

  “I’m sure.” He laug
hed and cruised onto a ramp.

  Dimming the light on my screen, I typed his name into the ‘search for friends’ box, but no results appeared. I tried, “James Garrett, Nevada” “James Garrett, California” “James Garrett, Lake Tahoe” and the results were the same.

  “You’re not on Facebook?” I asked.

  “No, never will be.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because that’s not how true friendship works in my world,” he said. “How many friends do you have on there?”

  “Two thousand, but five thousand followers.”

  “How many of them could you have called to come get you and bring you home?”

  Zero. I didn’t answer.

  “Exactly.” He looked over at me. “Which way do I go from here?”

  SHIT.

  I hadn’t been paying attention, hadn’t realized we were only half a mile from the long, winding road that led to The Kensington Estate. “You can drop me off right up there at that bell tower. I can walk to my house from there.”

  He shot me a blank stare. “You think I drove all the way out here to drop you off at a bell tower?”

  “No, but—” I tried to come up with an excuse. “But―”

  “But it’s not happening,” he said. “If you’re worried that I’m going to stalk you, don’t be. I don’t make a habit of driving two and a half hours across the lake every night.”

  “Right. Well, how about dropping me off at that parking pad on your left?”

  “How about, no.” He put the car in park. “Are you really that embarrassed to let me drop you off at your front door? It can’t be that bad.”

  A loud tapping sound suddenly came from outside his window.

  “Roll it down now,” a deep voice said. “I don’t know where the hell you think you’re going, but you’re a little too close to this private property.”

  James rolled down the window, and a harsh light flashed onto my face.

  “Miss Kensington?” It was Bernie, our goddamn security guard. “Is that you?”

  Fuck. I nodded. “Yes.”

  “Oh.” He put his flashlight away and looked at James. “Why didn’t you pull up to the guard tower and say you were here to drop off Miss Kensington?”

  “I didn’t know I was dropping off Miss Kensington.”

  “Well, next time, just pull up there, okay?” He stepped back and pointed ahead. “Carry on and be careful on the estate road. Lots of twists and turns.”

  “Will do.” He rolled up the window and drove forward.

  I felt his gaze on me as he took his time driving along the tree-lined road.

  He cleared his throat a few times, trying to get my attention, but I kept my eyes glued to the gardens outside my window.

  When we finally made it in front of the double stone staircase that sat in front of my family’s castle-inspired mansion, he turned off the engine and stepped out of the truck.

  Walking over to my side, he opened the door. “So, Kate Kensington ...” He enunciated every syllable in my name with a smile. “Would you like me to help you get out of the car, or will your team of butlers come out and do that for you?”

  “Okay, look,” I said. “I didn’t want to mention my real last name to you for a reason.” I took his hand as he helped me out of the truck.

  “And what reason is that?”

  “Because of what you said earlier about my family being stuck-up and out of touch.”

  “They are.”

  “Either way,” I said, “you have some pretty awful preconceptions about my family already.”

  “Is any of it true?”

  “All of it is true.” I admitted, looking into his eyes. “But I’m nothing like them, and I never will be.”

  “Hmmm.” He stepped closer and gently pulled the bunny headband from my hair. “Next time, be honest about who you are. Most guys might get highly upset about a girl lying to them on the first night they meet.”

  “Are you most guys?”

  “Not at all.” His lips curved into a smile.

  “So, you’re not mad that I lied to you?”

  “No.” He wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me against his chest. “Just don’t do it again...” He pressed his mouth against mine before I could say another word—before I could promise that I wouldn’t, and the feel of his lips obliterated every single fantasy I’d had during our ride.

  His mouth was perfection, soft yet firm, and I couldn’t help but shut my eyes as he continued using it on me. He slid his tongue against the corners of my mouth, silently demanding that I let him control our kiss.

  I gave in and shut my eyes as he gripped my waist a little tighter, as he kissed me like no man had ever kissed me before.

  I wrapped my arms around his neck and threaded my fingers through his hair. As he deepened our kiss, I tried to pull back to take a breath, but he didn’t let me. He bit down hard on my bottom lip—forcing my eyes to flutter open.

  He didn’t have to say a word. His green-eyed gaze said it all. “I’m running this kiss, not you.”

  I nodded slowly, accepting his terms, and shut my eyes once more.

  He quickly returned to controlling my mouth—taming my tongue with his, teasingly biting my bottom lip until I moaned.

  With our mouths still locked, he gently pushed me back against the door of his truck.

  His cock hardened against my stomach, and I felt a sudden, needy ache between my thighs.

  Oh my god...

  Rubbing his hands up and down my sides, he whispered against my lips. “Look at me.”

  I shook my head, still entranced—the aching between my thighs growing with each second, each touch of his lips.

  “Kate,” he repeated, skimming his right hand against my bare back. “Look at me...”

  I obliged and stared into his eyes.

  Keeping his gaze locked on mine, he slowly pushed the fabric of my costume to the side, slipping his finger past my lace panties and gently rubbing his finger against my soaking wet clit.

  My breathing slowed as it swelled under his touch, as he pressed another kiss against my mouth.

  The words, “Please just fuck me now,” were on the tip of my tongue, but he moved his hand away and gave me one last kiss that nearly brought me to my knees.

  “Now,” he said, stepping back as he looked me up and down, “Show me how easy it is to walk away from that kiss ...”

  still cuts me deeply

  Kate

  I ALWAYS NOTICED THE distinct notes and sounds of every city I lived in, no matter how long I stayed. Phoenix was a soft and soothing hum, a dry parallel to the loud and choppy rains that fell in Cincinnati. Chicago was a constant cacophony of rage and traffic, while New York City bore the strained and haunting sound of broken dreams and desperation.

  I never—ever, wanted to hear an encore from any of those cities, and I couldn’t wait to bring the annoying, rat skittering sound of Philadelphia to an end.

  I was now standing in one of this city’s dirtiest alleyways, looking through the frosted glass of Matt & Will’s Pawn Shop. My cello stood silently for sale in the main window with a golden five-thousand-dollar price tag. It was less than ten percent of what it was worth, but ten times more than what I had in my bank account.

  Don’t dwell, Kate. Don’t dwell...

  Cursing under my breath, I walked past it, carrying a dripping bag of reeking trash to the dumpster. With every step forward, I winced―feeling how swollen my feet were from working a full shift the night before. I had four more hours left on my second job and I was hoping that for once, they would fly by.

  Once I hurled the bag into the bin, I took my precious time walking back toward my personal hell-on-earth: Girl Boss, Inc.

  It was one of Fortune Magazine’s ‘Top 30 Start-Up Companies to Watch,’ and number one on my personal list of ‘Soul Sapping Jobs that Make Me Want to Die on the Spot.’ Every room inside the fifteen-story building was painted in cotton candy colored paint, and every ha
llway was lined with rose-gold framed quotes like, “You Go, Girl! You’ve Got This!” “Mascara On, Coffee Hot, Hustle Activated,” and “Girl Bossing Ain’t Easy! Chin Up and Prepare for War!” To make things more ridiculous, the executive team voted to make sure that every document we worked on was sprinkled with glitter and scented with rose perfume. Whenever we explained that this made no sense, we were met with a frown and forced to re-commit to the top three rules of the company:

  1. Never Complain

  2. Never Complain

  3. Smile and See Numbers 1 & 2

  “THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR being a team player and taking out tonight’s trash!” My boss, a picture-perfect brunette who only wore white and pink suits clapped her hands. “That was hashtag, very boss-like. Hashtag, OMG-humble, and hashtag goals. With that attitude and spirit, you can maybe make the type of money that I do in fifteen to twenty years!”

  I froze my eyeballs to their sockets.

  This can’t be my life right now ...

  “Ladies!” She continued clapping her hands. “Ladies! Could everyone gather around me for a quick pep talk?”

  I stepped back and tried not to sigh. It never ceased to amaze me how she insisted on calling the staff “ladies,” when less than half of the team was female.

  She cleared her throat and stood atop a stool. “So, as you all know, the next few weeks are going to be super crucial. It’s going to be a never-ending grind, but I believe in all of you so much. To make sure that you do your best work, I’m suspending the free coffee privileges, as well as the discounted lunch privileges.” She smiled. “This will test you and show you what ‘sacrifice’ means―especially since I’ll be insisting that each of you work an additional eight hours a week.”

  A chorus of deep sighs and moans sounded from the back of the room.

  “I’m sorry, what’s that?” She pressed her hand to her ear. “Is that negativity I hear? At Girl Boss, Inc.?”

  Silence.

  I hoped like hell that she wouldn’t make us “clear the bad energy” by engaging in the company’s shitty team dance and song.

  “I thought so!” She smiled. “Anyway, now that Kate is off trash duty punishment, I’m sure she’s happy to return to her leader duties and help get you all to the finish line! I’m proud to call all of you my favorite ‘bishes’ and I hope I inspire you to be as amazing as I am someday.”