“Just so you know,” she said casually as he followed her to the parking lot, “there’s no smoking in my car.”
He laughed then, shaking his head as he reached in his back pocket and pulled out a pack of nicotine gum, holding it out for her approval. “May I chew gum? Or is that also against the rules?”
She glanced at the gum and then up at him, giving him no reaction as she turned to open the trunk of her car. He waited for her to put her bags in before he followed suit, and by the time he closed the trunk, she was already in the driver’s seat, waiting.
He knew he shouldn’t be provoking her, but there was something about her feistiness that he enjoyed. It was raw and authentic and refreshing. Most of the girls he knew were so affected, so specious. He liked seeing a woman who pulled no punches, who was confident enough to express what she was feeling, and who made no apologies for it.
And if he were being honest, he liked that he was able to ignite that spark in her.
But he shouldn’t be doing it. He knew that. For one, he was getting under her skin, and as much as it amused him to play around, he didn’t want to actually upset her. But more importantly, he shouldn’t be looking to get a rise out of interacting with her.
It was harmless, his playful taunting. He had no intention of making a move on Andie; but still, in the back of his mind, he knew he shouldn’t be needling her.
Yet as he slid into the passenger seat next to her, he also knew it was going to be difficult to stop.
She started the car and pulled out of the lot, and he glanced over at her. “So,” he said. “Have you ever made this drive before?”
She shook her head slightly, and then asked softly, “You?”
“No,” he said with a laugh. “I don’t know why anyone would drive this when it’s so much easier to fly.”
“Well you should have, then,” she said casually. He turned to look at her; her eyes were on the road, her expression indifferent, and he couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped his lips.
He looked down, a smile still playing at his mouth over her quip. “How come Colin didn’t drive with you?” he asked. He already knew the answer to this question, of course, but he wanted to see how she felt about it.
“He had a lot to do down there this week. Wedding party obligations,” she said with a shrug. There wasn’t even the slightest hint of resentment in her tone.
“So then why didn’t you just drive down earlier?”
Andie glanced in her rearview before switching lanes. “Because,” she said absently, “I had work.”
“What do you do?”
“I manage a restaurant.”
“Really?” Chase asked with genuine interest. “Do you own it?”
“No, my father does.”
“Ah,” he said with a nod. “Well, you gotta love nepotism.”
Her hand came down on the steering wheel, the sound of it catching him off guard.
“See, why do you have to do that?” she asked, the irritation clear in her voice as she turned to look at him. “Why do you have to be like that?”
He shook his head slightly. “I’m kidding, Andie. It wouldn’t kill you to laugh. It wouldn’t even hurt. I promise,” he said, crossing his heart and then holding his hand up.
She turned her eyes back to the road, her tongue darting out to wet her lips as she tapped a button on the steering wheel, turning on the radio. The space between them was filled with the low murmur of some random music station and the sound of her thumb drumming the side of the steering wheel.
Chase waited until he saw the tension leave her shoulders before he spoke again. “Okay, so I have to ask, what’s the story behind Andie?”
“What’s the story behind Andie?” she echoed, the confusion evident in her voice.
“Yeah. I mean, it’s a strange name for a girl, don’t you think?” When she didn’t respond, he added, “So what’s the deal? Were your parents hoping for a boy or something?”
“It’s not my name.”
Chase turned toward her. “Andie’s not your name?”
“It’s a nickname,” she said listlessly, as if she had just reached her limit in dealing with an inquisitive child.
“So you prefer people to call you Andie? What’s your real name?”
“None of your business,” she blurted out before he had even finished his question.