Kay shook off her disappointment. “Sorry,” she said. “I’m just a mixture of bummed about the book and shook up from being trapped in a bathroom stall for . . .” She paused. “How long exactly?”
“Close to an hour.”
“Shit.”
He snorted. “Literally.”
“Garret!” But then she was laughing, too, and by the time they both stopped, she felt better. “Thanks,” she said. Her hand still rested on his forearm, and she gave the hard muscle a squeeze.
“You’re welcome.”
“Did you bring a coat?”
“Yes,” she said. “I just need to get the ticket out of my—” She smacked her forehead. “My purse! I’m an idiot. I forgot I left it with—”
Garret held it up.
“She got pulled away from the table. I promised to keep it safe.” He pretended to model it for a few seconds and had her in hysterics. “I think it goes with my outfit, don’t you?”
She patted his arm. “Only a truly secure man would say that.”
“You know it.” He handed her the purse then steered them toward coat check. “Let’s grab your jacket, and I’ll drive you home.”
“That sounds great.”
Her coat felt a little heavy when she put it on, but she attributed it to exhaustion from her crazy evening. First Garret, then the bathroom, and now the multitude of sparks flying as he drove her home.
He held her hand, stroking little circles on the back of her wrist as they drove. Bolts of pleasure shot up her arm and then down. Straight down between her thighs.
Yup, she was getting hot from a simple caress.
Thus was the power of Garret Williams.
He regaled her with a few more tales but didn’t take over the conversation. For as much as he spoke, he seemed to make sure she talked twice as much, and his questions were interesting and fun, ranging from thoughtful to simple small talk.
She’d answered everything from “Where do you come up with your character names?” to “What’s your favorite thing to binge right now?” to “What did your parents do growing up?”
Her answers had been: she had a master list of character names she added to every time she heard a good name, Killing Eve, and school teachers, respectively.
“Star Wars or Star Trek?”
She slanted her eyes at him, felt her lips twitch and then they both said, “Star Wars” at the same time.
He laughed, brushed his fingers along her wrist again, and her breath caught.
Garret was . . . well, he was being the perfect date.
Of course, he was also spinning a web around her, drawing her in, tugging her close—
Or maybe that just what her body wanted.
Or her brain.
Shh, her mind said. Don’t ruin this for us.
Apparently, all of her wanted Garret and she couldn’t just chalk it up to hormones. Nope. He was smart and funny and kind, and the hug after he’d rescued her from the bathroom hadn’t been nearly enough contact.
Damn Heather for her matchmaking skills. If she liked Garret and went out with him then she’d never hear the end of it—