If I was going to a damn country bar, I was going looking like the son of Dean Finlay. Country bars weren’t my thing, although Blaire’s boots were definitely on my list of favorite things. Any reason to see her in those boots was a plus.
I grabbed a Slacker Demon shirt and threw it on with my jeans. Then I added my thumb ring. I brushed my teeth and added deodorant before stopping and looking at myself in the mirror. I was missing something.
I grabbed a few of the small hoops I wore on occasion and slid them into my ear. Sticking out my tongue, I grinned, thinking about Blaire’s interest in my tongue piercing. She was almost in my lap last night trying to look at it. If she attempted that tonight, I might just let her crawl all over me. Shaking my head at my thoughts, which would lead to nothing but trouble, I ran for the stairs. I hadn’t taken ten minutes, but I was pushing it.
On my way back down the stairs, my eyes found Blaire, who was watching me closely. It made my heart speed up when she looked at me like I was some kind of treat. God knows I had thought about tasting her in many, many ways. The idea of her having any naughty thoughts about me got me more excited than I needed to be in these tight jeans.
When her eyes made it to my face, I stuck out my tongue so she could see the piercing. Her eyes flared, and I wanted to groan. Damn, the things I wanted to show her with this little piece of silver.
“I figure if I’m going to a honky-tonk with guys in boots and cowboy hats, I need to stay true to my roots. Rock and roll is in my blood. I can’t pretend to fit in anywhere else,” I explained.
She laughed. “You’re going to look as out of place tonight as I do at your parties. This should be fun. Come on, rock-star spawn,” she said, looking pleased before heading toward the door.
I hurried around her and opened the door for her. Something else I should have been doing all along. “Since your friend is riding with us, why don’t we take one of my cars? We ’d all be more comfortable than in your truck,” I suggested. I wanted her sitting up front with me. Close to me. So I could look at those legs . . . and boots. I didn’t want to be crammed into a truck with Bethy.
She glanced over her shoulder at me. “But we’d fit in better if we took my truck.”
I pulled out the small remote from my pocket to open the door to the garage where my Range Rover was parked. Blaire swung her gaze over and watched as the door opened.
“That’s certainly impressive,” she said.
“Does that mean we can take mine? I’m not crazy about sharing a seat with Bethy. The girl likes to touch things without permission,” I said. She’d never touched me, but I had heard about her.
“Yes, she does. She’s a bit of a flirt, isn’t she?” Blaire said, grinning.
“ ‘Flirt’ is a kind word for her,” I replied.
“OK. Sure. We can take the badass Rush Finlay’s killer wheels, if he insists,” Blaire said with a shrug.
Score. Now I needed to get her into the passenger seat before she tried to climb into the back. I headed toward the Range Rover, nodding for her to follow.
I opened the door for her, and she stopped and looked up at me. “Do you open all your friends’ car doors?”
I never opened doors for girls. It made them expect more. But with Blaire, I wanted to. I wanted her to feel cherished. Damn, this was dangerous. “No,” I told her honestly, and moved away to get in on my side. I shouldn’t flirt. I shouldn’t treat her like there could be more.
I climbed in. I wasn’t sure what to say to her now.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound rude,” she said, breaking the silence.
I was making this weird for her. I had to work on that if this was going to work. “No. You’re right. I just don’t have any female friends, so I’m not good at balancing what I should do and what I shouldn’t.”
“So you open doors for your dates? That’s a very chivalrous thing to do. Your mother raised you right.” She almost sounded jealous. But . . . no. That made no sense.
“Actually, no, I don’t. I . . . you just seem like the kind of girl who deserves to have her door opened. It just made sense in my head at the moment. But I get what you’re saying. If we’re going to be friends, I need to draw a line and stay behind it.”
A small smile touched her lips. “Thank you for opening it for me. It was sweet.”
I just shrugged. I wasn’t sure I could say more without sounding like an idiot.
“We need to pick Bethy up at the country club. She’ll be at the office back behind the clubhouse at the golf course. She had to work today. She’s showering and dressing there,” Blaire explained.
I pulled out of the driveway and turned toward the club. Blaire and Bethy seemed like two completely different people. The idea of them being friends didn’t fit. “How did you and Bethy become friends?”
“We worked together one day. I think we were both in need of a friend. She’s fun and free-spirited. Everything I’m not.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “You say that like it’s a bad thing. You don’t want to be like Bethy. Trust me.”
She didn’t argue with me. At least she knew that Bethy was not someone to imitate. When she didn’t say anything else, I focused on getting us to the club and not staring at her legs, which she’d just crossed, making her skirt even shorter. Blaire had great legs. The little bit of sun she’d gotten on the beach made her skin glow.