I was in trouble.
Still laughing, his arm swept out, catching me at the waist and pulling me into his shaking, hard, warm body.
Yep, totally in trouble.
His chin dipped and his dancing, vivid, blue eyes caught mine.
Oh so totally, completely in trouble.
Still smiling a hell on wheels beautiful smile, he muttered, “My baby’s funny.”
Oh God.
Oh God.
Oh no.
Oh crap.
My baby.
I liked that.
Seriously, totally, completely, absolutely in trouble.
With effort, I pulled it together again.
“How do you know what I drive?” I asked.
“Watched you pull into your place that Friday,” he answered.
“And you saw the rosary and St. Christopher?” I pressed, knowing this was impossible unless he had Superman vision.
“Had a look before I took off. Seriously, you need another car.”
“I don’t. There’s nothing wrong with it. I get it serviced yearly. Tires rotated. Regular oil changes. Toyotas last forever.”
“It’s ordinary.”
“So?”
“Anya,” his arm gave me a squeeze, “babe, you are not ordinary.”
That tingle came back.
“You need a class ride,” he kept talking. “No flash, you need no more attention than you already get. Just class.”
I studied him.
Then I informed him, “Knight, I’m not sure the world sees what you see in me.”
He shook his head. “No, babe, you do not see what the world sees. Totally f**kin’ clueless.”
“I’m not,” I returned.
“How many men smile at you?” he asked immediately and my head jerked.
“Pardon?”