“Nothing is going on,” I said. He shot me a don’t give me that shit look.
“Tell that to someone who doesn’t know you. Actually, forget it. Even a goddamn blind man can see that something is definitely going on. You better be fucking careful.”
I groaned, but didn’t respond. I knew he was right.
“Like I said, be careful.”
I was being careful. I was about to take the girl to Newport Beach so that we could be together without worrying about getting caught. How was that for careful? Though the more I thought about it the less I knew if I was being careful or just needy for wanting her this badly. But I wasn’t a needy guy. Just careful. I wasn’t an idiot. I knew I couldn’t have both. I knew that if those pictures got out, I would have to let her go until she was no longer my client. We would be fine. We’d done it once before. But she moved on that time.
Thinking that made me feel sick.
She’d moved on and got married.
I’d told her she was mine—pounded that into her—as if that alone could keep her around.
From every which angle I thought about it, I was fucked.
“YOUR PARENTS ARE the sweetest people ever,” I said, smiling as I waved to his mom while getting into the passenger seat of his car. “I don’t know how they ended up with a grouch like you.”
I inhaled, like I usually did when I was in his car. It had a new-car smell. How? I didn’t know. Mine lost that smell after two weeks. Probably because I ate so many In-N-Out burgers in it. Victor didn’t say anything, instead he reached for my hand and threaded his fingers through mine. My heart skipped a beat every time he did that. Every time he touched me. Every time he freaking looked at me. I felt like a ridiculous junior in high school who had a crush on the star quarterback. I just couldn’t get enough of him.
Victor chuckled. “They really like you.”
“I really like them.”
“I really like you.”
My heart summersaulted into my stomach and back up. Oh my God. I was going to die via sweet nothings from Victor Reuben. I really was, and damn what a beautiful death it would be.
“I like you too,” I whispered. I felt my cheeks burn as I smiled and looked over at him. We were stopped at a red light that changed to green and he was just looking at me without a care in the world. He leaned in as if to kiss me and I said, “The light is green. People are honk—”
“Fuck them. Let them honk,” he said, his lips grazing mine.
I forgot how to breathe, let alone how to complain. I grabbed his face and kissed him back amidst the honking behind us. He pulled back slightly, gaze tender on mine, as if he were seeing me for the first time. As if he were just now realizing his words about liking me were actually true. I smiled softly, and he mimicked it as he pulled back. Somebody else honked and Victor stuck his middle finger up.
“Idiot.”
I slapped my palm on my forehead and lowered myself into the seat. “Victor.”
“What? People act like they can’t wait three seconds. Like they have somewhere important to be on a Saturday afternoon.”
I laughed. “Maybe it’s a doctor.”
“Well, they should’ve left their house ten minutes early so they wouldn’t have to deal with assholes like me.”
“Oh my God. You are so fucking crazy.”
Without looking away from the road he lifted my hand and brought it up to his mouth. “And you love it,” he said, kissing my palm lightly before nipping it with his teeth.
I yanked it away. I really did love it, but I would never in a million years tell him that. “So, where are we going to stop to buy clothes? Target?”
“I was going to take you to Nordstrom, but if Target is good with you, let’s go there.”
I laughed. “Well, I’m not going to pass up Nordstrom.”
“Nah, Target was your first choice.”
I poked him in the ribs and he laughed, taking his hand off the gear to catch my hand and bite the tips my fingers until I yelped. He let go and shot me a look, raising a brow in challenge. I smiled and looked out the window. He turned the radio up a little and started bobbing his head to the Bryson Tiller song playing.
“I like you like this,” I said after a while. He lowered the music a little.
“How?”
I shrugged. “Not cautious.”
He looked over at me quickly, tilting his head a bit before looking back at the road ahead. He didn’t acknowledge my statement, instead turning up the radio again and singing along. We talked and sang and scrolled through different songs on the playlist he had set up in the memory of his car. I made fun of him for having Justin Beiber on there, and he assured me that it was Estelle’s doing.
“Liar,” I scoffed.
He shrugged. “Maybe I like some of his new songs.”
“I knew it,” I said and paused as I continued scrolling. “You know, for a half Puerto Rican guy who doesn’t speak Spanish, you listen to a lot of Hispanic artists.”
He chuckled. “I never said I didn’t speak Spanish.”
“Do you?”
“Un poquito.”
I smiled wide. “My mom will be pleased to hear that.”
“How often do you visit her?”
“Not as often as I would like,” I said, sighing. I put my hand over his on the gearshift. “I’ll probably go over there in a month when we’re done filming this movie.”
He gave me a sharp nod, opening his fingers to hold on to mine. “I would offer to go with you, but your Spanish is completely different than mine, and I probably wouldn’t understand anything you guys are saying.”
I laughed. “I’ll teach you.”
“I’ll hold you to that.”
I felt my heart expand. Was he serious? Gabe never cared about any of that, though he did go with me to see my mom a couple times when we first got married. I smiled at the memory of him eating a ridiculous amount of steak and getting a stomach ache for the rest of the trip. He was so funny then. So willing to please me. I sighed, looking out the window again. There was construction in the canyon we were near and I was grateful we were driving along it during the day. I always had a fear of driving so close to the edges of the canyons, despite the barricades that were supposed to keep the car from actually falling into it.
Victor pulled into the parking lot of Target a few minutes later. I couldn’t even imagine this Armani-suit-wearing man’s man at Target, and I couldn’t wait to experience it with him.
“Let’s get what we need first, like body wash,” he suggested, steering the cart to the right.
“Okay. Should we get snacks?” I asked, eyeing the chips on the way over.
“Are you planning on kidnapping me for more than a day?” he asked, looking over at me. I shook my head, smiling. I totally should, though.
“Then no snacks needed. We’ll go to dinner at the hotel.”
The hotel. Oh my God. I was going to stay at a hotel with this man. I had to bite down on the inside of my cheek to contain my giddiness. Much to Victor’s amusement, I sent Talon a text message and asked her if she could watch Bonnie. That’s why I don’t have pets, he’d said. I don’t have time for more stress. Shopping with Victor was worse than shopping with Talon or Chrissy. The guy took forever to decide what shorts he should buy: cargo or not. Then, button-up or polo. Then, socks for the shoes he had on or flip-flops? And all the while, he was acting weird, looking around, keeping his distance from where I was standing, not looking me in the eye. Somewhere between the men’s underwear and the pajamas, I got sick of it.
“Why are you acting so weird?” I asked, pivoting to face him with my hands on my hips.
“What do you mean?” he asked, picking up the bottom of the oversized Batman footie pajamas in front of him. Still avoiding my eyes. “Who the hell buys this?”
“Victor.”
“Really, though, who over the age of twelve months wear this?” he said, ignoring me.
“Victor,” I said, raising my voice. I felt my f
ace burning with anger. “Stop looking at the ridiculous pajamas and look at me right now.”
He whipped his head to look at me, letting his hands drop to his sides. Now that I had his full attention, his eyes on mine like that, I lost my train of thought.
“What?”
“Why are you acting distant?” I asked, lowering my voice and stepping closer to him.
He let out a heavy sigh and stepped even closer, until we were toe to toe and reached his hand out to take mine.
“My mind is just . . . occupied.”
“Occupied,” I repeated, taking his hand and wrapping it around my body so he was holding me against his chest. He dropped his face into my hair and inhaled deeply.
“Occupied,” he murmured against my ear.
“We’re far enough from home that we can act like we know each other, Vic.”
“I know, baby. I know,” he said, dropping a kiss on my temple, and another on my cheek. “For the rest of the weekend, you’re the only thing occupying my mind, okay?”
I pulled back to look at him. “Only this weekend?”
He looked at me for a beat. “Oh, Nicole. What am I going to do with you?”
He pressed his lips against my forehead as he dropped his hands and started to walk toward the T-shirts, shaking his head as he did. I smiled when I heard him rambling about how much time I occupy in his mind. He went back to looking at every piece of clothing in the men’s section. What shorts should he get? Cargo or not? Khakis or denim?
“Are you kidding me, Victor?” I demanded, finally. I took the cargo shorts, the non-cargo shorts, the polo, the button-up, the socks, and the flip-flops and threw it in the cart. “You act like you can’t afford all of it.”
He pointed at me. “That’s the kind of mentality that makes people Target’s bitch.”
“Yeah, well, I was put in that category a long time ago. I don’t plan on getting out of there any time soon. Besides, Red Card.”
He shook his head, but kept walking toward the women’s section. I took two seconds while he was on the phone to get what I needed before moving to the underwear. Suddenly Victor told his caller that he “needed to go because he had something important to do.” I rolled my eyes as I sorted through the bras.
“This one’s nice,” he said, holding up a bra a row over. I frowned.
“That’s like . . . a D.”
He examined it better. “Yeah, you’re right. How’d you know?”
I raised my eyebrows and shook my head, going back to my section.
“What about this one?”
“Thank God we’re not in Victoria’s Secret,” I muttered, looking over again. He was holding up a sheer bra. I laughed. “That one’s good.”
“34 C, baby,” he said loudly. I felt my face turn a shade of red as a woman walked by us. She shot me an amused look.
“Excuse him, he doesn’t Target much,” I said with a smile.
The woman laughed and walked away.
I gasped when Victor came up behind me and wrapped his arms around me. “You’re having way too much fun with this,” he said into my ear.
“Just a little,” I said, smiling. “Did you get my bra, honey?”
“I sure did, baby.”
“Let’s go,” I said, starting to walk. He held me tight in his hold so I couldn’t move and kissed my cheek.
“You make me this way,” he said. The tone of his voice made my insides rattle. I tilted my head to look up at him.
“Like what?” I whispered.
“Not cautious,” he said, snuggling into my neck. “I feel free when I’m with you.”
I closed my eyes and leaned into him. It felt so good to be in his arms like that, away from it all, without fear we’d get caught. He pressed his lips against the side of my temple and dropped his hands.
“Let’s go. I’m only getting you underwear because you’ll need them for work tomorrow. Don’t even think about wearing them to bed tonight,” he said, slapping my ass as he walked away. I laughed as I followed behind him.
When we got to the front of the line, the cashier tried to talk Victor into signing up for a credit card, and he started rambling about credit lines and stores that want to lock you in and keep you in debt. The woman laughed.
“All right then,” she said, shaking her head as she looked at me. “Good luck with this one, hon.”
“Oh, no. We’re not together,” I said, wrinkling my nose. “Too straight-laced for me.”
Victor narrowed his eyes at me. I smiled at him and shrugged. The woman laughed again. We left and on our way to the car Victor held the bags in one hand and wrapped his free arm around me body, lifting me off the ground.
“Straight-laced, huh?” he growled. “I’ll show you straight-laced.”
I laughed the entire way to the car. When he set me down I reached up and kissed him. “I was just kidding.”
“Too late.”
I smiled. “You should let me drive.”
He balked at me, pausing as he put our things in the trunk. “You’ve completely lost your mind.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s my car and nobody drives my car.”
I jutted my bottom lip out. “Please?”
His gaze dropped to my lips. “No.”
“You really wouldn’t let me drive your car?” I asked, putting my hands on my hips.
Victor looked at me for a long, quiet moment. He sighed. “Do you know how to drive stick?”
“I’m very good with a stick,” I said with a wink. He wasn’t having it.
“I’m serious.”
“Yes, Victor,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Give me the damn keys. I’ll take care of your baby.”
He wasn’t happy about it, but he handed over the keys. I was sure he regretted it instantly when I jumped up and cheered, doing a little dance as I made my way over to the driver’s seat.
“God help me,” he said, making the sign of the cross as he sat down in the passenger seat. I laughed.
“He gives a girl his car keys and suddenly he becomes a born-again Christian.”
He huffed, looking out the window. “I’m Catholic.”
I laughed harder. I started the car and pushed down on the petal, clapping at the sound of the purr before I took off.
“You need to tell me where to go.”
“You need to stop talking and focus on driving.”
“I can drive and talk at the same time.”
“I don’t care.”
“Why don’t you go back to praying? You were much less annoying,” I said, but I couldn’t help my smile. He was kind of adorable when he was like this.
“Nicole,” he groaned, “just . . . please stop talking. You’re making me nervous.”
I laughed. When I reached a stoplight, I turned the music up. “Is Selena Gomez also on your playlist?”
He sighed. “No, Nicole.”
“Straight-laced.”
“Wait ’til we get our room,” he said. “I’m going to fuck you until you can’t talk anymore.”
I sighed. “Goals.”
He stayed quiet for a beat. “What’s up with that?”
“What?”
“Goals. You say that all the time. Why?”
I smiled. Of course Victor didn’t know what that was about. “You mean you can’t deduce what it may mean?”
“I can deduce it, yes. I just don’t know if my deduction is correct.”
“Tell me what you think it is.”
“I don’t know. When you like something or you want to do something, you say goals? Is it like a bucket list of sorts?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“Hmm.”
I looked at him from the corner of my eyes. “Do you have any goals?”
He was quiet for a moment. I thought maybe he hadn’t heard me over the music, but then he said quietly, “I do have goals.” He didn’t elaborate, so I didn’t push him.
We got to the hotel, checked in, went to dinner, la
ughed our asses off as Victor came up with a story for every old man in the restaurant. I’d missed this. Fun. Laughter. Feeling carefree. I realized in the last eighteen months, I’d become a reclusive, introverted side of myself, one I couldn’t entirely get used to. With Victor, I slowly felt I was getting myself back. Finding me.
“So basically all of their wives married them for money,” I said, taking a sip of my Riesling.
He shrugged. “Basically.”
“Do you ever want to get married?” I asked.
His eyes snapped to mine, and for a moment I got lost in their intensity, the greens mixing with the browns, and the blue undertones swirling around.
“Maybe . . . probably.”
My eyebrows rose. “Really?”
“Yes, really. Why is that so hard to believe?”
“I don’t know. I just didn’t take you for the married type.”
His lips twitched. “You only took me for the random hookups in his office type?”
“I guess so?” I smiled. “At least I didn’t assume you’d hooked up with any previous clients.”
His eyes dropped to the table, and my stomach went with them.
“Have you?” I asked. I wasn’t sure why it bothered me. Suddenly, I felt disgusted. The way I felt when I found out Gabe had potentially cheated on me. My stomach turned at the thought of Victor with another woman, driving her away like this to not get caught. He was quiet for so long, that my mind threatened to run off into the realm of visualization. Victor with some prissy redhead, or skinny blonde, everything I wasn’t. His deep chuckle cut through my thoughts.
“No, Nicole. You’re my first. And last.”
My heart pounded loudly at his admission, at those words and the way he said them. I narrowed my eyes at him despite the way I was feeling.
“Asshole,” I said. He laughed harder, and even though I was laughing along and felt a sense of ease at his words, I wondered if he felt the same. I cleared my throat. “Would it bother you if somebody asked me out on a date?”
His laughter stopped instantly. “Why? Who asked you out? That asshole realtor?”
That made me laugh. “No. You know there are more men in the world, right?”
“Who asked you out?”
“Some guy. A neighbor of mine.”
Elastic Hearts (Hearts #3) Page 19