Page 58 of The Right Garza

We don’t talk for most of the drive back.

Chapter SEVENTEEN

“I lie sometimes.”

Lexi

Trent tunes theradio to a lo-fi station and we don’t talk for most of the drive. I don’t think I could if I wanted to anyway. I’m still reeling from that mind-blowing kiss. Surfing a maelstrom of emotions and indescribable feelings.

It’s not as if it’s my first kiss, but it might well have been, because I’ve never experienced anything likethatbefore. A kiss that felt like it’d been waiting a lifetime to happen.

My first kiss was from Maggie. We were in our high school locker room changing into our gear for PE class when she leaned in and pressed her glossed lips to mine. She’d pulled away almost immediately and started giggling. That should have been my first clue that she was into girls but it totally went over my head and I just thought she was messing around.

My first real kiss, though, was with Torin, when he dragged me into the laundry room of the Garza house then cupped my face and kissed me silly. It’s the only kiss that comes a smidge close to what I just experienced. Yet still not by a long shot.

Between Torin and now, I’ve only ever kissed two other men. A guy I hooked up with for a week in Paris who barely spoke a lick English, and a sloppy-kissing one-night stand in Pacific City well over a year ago.

So, it’s entirely possible I’m mind-blown simply because I haven’t kissed enough frogs before Trent.

Or maybe, just maybe, this man is in a league of own.

When we reach Pasadena, he lowers the volume on the radio and asks me if I need anything.

“Uh, yeah,” I say hoarsely then clear my throat. “Can we make a stop at the convenience store? I want to grab some ice cream.”

And maybe some cake. And cookie dough. I have a lot of feelings to eat tonight.

“You still a rocky road girl?”

“I’m forever a rocky road girl,” I say with a smile. “You still a vanilla guy?”

“Only with my ice cream.”

Oh dear. I’m not touching that one with a ten-foot pole.

At the convenience store, a sleek Aston Martin pulls into the parking spot next to us just as I’m getting out of the Jeep. The driver, a handsome blond guy, ogles me as I shut the door then flashes me a come-hither grin.

Ignoring him, I trek across the parking lot to the convenience store. I’m about to open the door when a hand shoots out ahead of mine and opens it for me.

I glance over my shoulder and up to see Handsome Aston Martin Guy smiling down at me. He had to have rushed out of the car to catch up with me.

“Allow me,” he says, smooth and suave.

“Thanks.”

I walk in ahead of him and beeline straight for the ice-scream freezer. I grab a medium-sized tub of rocky road along with a tub of chocolate chip cookie dough. When I slide the freezer door shut and turn, I almost collide into Handsome Aston Martin Guy.

“Sorry if I’m being creepy,” he says. “But you’re just the most beautiful fucking woman I’ve seen all week.”

“InL.A.? While driving an Aston Martin?” I scoff, making sure he knows I think he’s full of shit. “I highly doubt that.”

I step around him and head for the cashier. He trails me. He smells crazy good, and I can tell he’s the kind of privileged rich guy who, when he sees something he wants, goes hard after it because he thinks he can have it.

It’s this damn outfit I’m wearing. It was perfect for the fight last night not, but not for an impromptu ice-cream stop in a convenience store.

“So, can I take you out to dinner sometime?”

I snatch up some tamarind balls on the way. “You should ask me if I’m single first.”