Page 38 of The Right Garza

“Then Idon’tknow them.”

Why did I think he’d be cool about this again? Maybe now is not the time to tell him she’s also staying with me. “It’s Maggie, you jerk.”

“Who?”

“Maggie,” I say with emphasis. “Magnolia Glades? My bestie growing up?Yourold flame?”

His brows crinkles in a frown, as if to remember, and then he nods. “Oh, Maggie. Yeah.”

“We re-connected when I was working with Slim,” I tell him.

“I see. Well, still need to run a background check.”

“Seriously?”

“You’re too ‘cool’ with people, Lexi. Believe only this: you don’t knowanyone. No matter how close you and a person might be.”

“I know you.”

His lips kick up in half-smirk, half-smile, and it’s so damn sexy and devilish I want to lean over and run my tongue across that full lower lip. “Trust me, Hellcat, youdon’t.”

“Well, maybe not…” I chew on my bottom lip instead my gum. “But I know you wouldn’t hurt me or let anything bad happen to me.”

He stares at me for several heartbeats, his gaze roaming languidly over my face. Then, in the softest, gentlest voice I’ve ever heard him use, he assures me, “Never.”

A wicked heat wraps around my neck like a chokehold; it ripples, spreading onto my cheeks. I thank God for the darkness of the car, because…whatthe hellis this? This sudden heat? This searing under my skin. These tiny flutters in my belly?

On the verge of freaking out, I undo the seatbelt and lean forward to open the glove compartment. “I’m starving. Do you have any snacks in here? Anything to drink?”

“I don’t bring food in here.”

Slamming the glove compartment shut, I glance down to the cup holder and see a half-empty bottle of water. Without asking, I grab it up and down it all.

I can feel his gaze hot on the side of my face. “You good?”

“Yeah, just a little…” Confused. Hot. Bothered. “Parched. Peckish. You’re right, this is really boring. I don’t know how you don’t have a duffel bag of snacks in here to cope.”

“Let’s give it about fifteen more minutes,” he says. “Then we can go get you something to eat.”

Then I can get out of this damn car with you. Away from this inexplicable heat.“Okay.”

As if he somehow knows I’m antsy on the inside, he says, “Tell me about your time on the road with Slim. Why’d you ditch him? And how’d you get to this point?”

I happily oblige, anything to get my mind off of whatever the hell I’m feeling right now.

For the next half an hour, I talk about the initial thrill of counting and traveling and making hundreds of thousands of dollars. I highlight some of my favorite moments up to making the hard decision to separate from Slim, which ultimately lead to my downfall. He listens with genuine interest, until a chime from his pocket interrupts me mid-sentence.

“Time,” he mumbles, then reaches around to the back seat for a black ball cap and puts it on, pulling it down low over his eyes. “Be right back.”

“Okay.”

As he exits the vehicle and walks casually down the street, I exhale a long breath. “What’s wrong with you, bitch?” I mumble to myself. “It’s just Trent.Trent.”

Yet, no matter how many times I remind myself that it’s “just Trent,” it does nothing to abate the new, inexplicable flutter in my gut.

Something happened earlier. Maybe it was the way he looked me. Maybe it was the inflection of his voice when he whispered, “Never.” I don’t know what it was, butsomethinghappened. And now there’s this humming heat under my skin and persistent flutter that won’t leave.

Sure, he’s hot as fuck, ridiculously so, and is probably irresistible to most women. But, I’m Lexi and he is Trent. So, to me, heshouldbe resistible. He shouldonlybe the boy who I grew up with and my ex-boyfriend’s brother. Nothing else. How do these goddamn fluttersnotunderstand that?