here?”
He smiles, blinking lazily as his gaze dances over my bare legs, my short shirt, my fitted dress. To my face. I have to consciously activate my forcefield, as my family loves to call it. The protective layer that guards my heart and keeps me free. As resolved as I’ve been my whole life to keep my distance from men who were never quite right, this guy could shatter me without even trying. And he knows it. Because he could shatter any one of us. Me, the socialite from Dallas, and any of the girls in this adoring crowd. “I’m proving that knights in shining armor do exist. Phase one. I’m taking you out in Nashville tonight.”
“Nashville?” It’s miles from here. Then again, he does have a helicopter.
Never mind that my question shouldn’t be about where he’s taking me. It should be about my refusal to go with him.
“Gigi and I have plans tonight.” Dylan is standing next to me, arms folded defiantly. I’d almost forgotten about him.
Dylan is close to my height and in Vaughn’s shadow he suddenly looks somehow unformed. Like he was an afterthought, whereas whatever creator made Vaughn Tucker took infinite care and riotous gusto in his masterpiece.
Vaughn takes in Dylan. The neatly combed hair. The boat shoes even though we live in Tennessee. The outfit that screams nerd-who-aspires-to-Abercrombie-level-sexiness-but-will-never-even-get-close.
“I gave her a ride,” Dylan says. “And we’re going out to dinner tonight.” Almost possessively.
That Dylan thinks he has any kind of ownership over me is insane. I’m about to tell him dinner is off when Vaughn says, “Not anymore,” amused and cutting. After a heated glare, Vaughn’s gaze returns to me. The shade of his irises has darkened, more sapphire now than azure, and the glimmer takes on a more furious light. “This is my competition? You make it too easy, Gi.”
This almost makes me smile. He’s so cocky. Of course he is. The simple biology of this equation couldn’t be more obvious. Vaughn is evolution’s A-list, an ideal masculine specimen. The little strands of my DNA are practically leaning in, craving him because he’s just so freaking magnificent.
Even so, I’m about to tell him that this isn’t a competition. And how did it even happen that I’m being practically fought over by a random acquaintance from my class and one of the hottest rock stars on the planet?
Before I can protest either way, Vaughn steps forward and scoops me into his arms.
“Vaughn. What is this? Put me down.”
The cluster of girls gasps rapturously at his manhandling of me, like they’ve never seen anything so dreamy.
“Hey,” Dylan mutters, but no one’s listening.
Vaughn starts carrying me across the lawn.
“Vaughn. I mean it. What are you doing? I’m not coming with you.”
“This is what knights in shining armor do, darlin’. They show a girl a good time like no one else can.”
“But not by kidnapping them,” I point out.
“It’s not kidnapping when you take someone out for some dinner and dancing then safely deliver them home again.”
God. He’s so strong and aggressive—which isn’t something I ever thought would be this crazily persuasive. He’s touching me. The feel of his warm, solid-as-steel arms and his broad chest as he carries me without any effort at all is infusing me with a strangely forceful hunger.
But I can’t just go with this. I’ll get annihilated.
I know my sisters would already be strapping in for the ride. I can practically hear what they’d be thinking. Do it, sweetie. You’ll be the envy of millions.
Maybe I’m too sensitive. Or not sensitive enough. Because I don’t want to be just another notch on his use ‘em and lose ‘em scorecard. I can’t. I won’t. “Please, Vaughn. Put me down.”
His frown is just as gorgeous as his smile. There’s something hotly adorable about his mischief. As shocked I am by what he’s doing, I’m not scared of him. He’s a big, burly, inked-up lunatic, but he’s easy to be with. His playfulness and his determination are connective. He should be on his way to Los Angeles but instead he’s here, chasing after me. And I have no idea why.
He carefully sets me down on my feet.
Then he falls to his knees in front of me. He’s so big and muscular—and hot—that, on his knees like this, all genuine and romantic, he’s sort of … irresistible.
Damn him.
He’s wearing faded jeans and clearly doesn’t care about grass stains. Or the fact that the crowd is now taking pictures of us.
“Vaughn—”
“Let me put it this way, sweetheart. I’ll