Maybe I should drive my car. It’s no dragon mobile, but it will do.
But oh wait… I had five drinks. If Dad hears that I drank that much and drove, he’ll be very disappointed.
Resigned, I give Emmett directions. He starts maneuvering his car.
I suck down half my water and try not to think about the fact that I’m in a car with my boss/the dude I had a quickie with last night, who’s now driving me home. A vague voice in my head says we need to talk about this, but…it’s awkward.
Besides, Emmett wanted to talk about something else. What were we talking about before? Oh yeah. Rick using me to build his social media platform. And my suing him for that.
“I don’t think I want to,” I blurt out. “It’s going to cost too much to sue, and—”
“Not that much.”
“—I don’t have money to burn.” I bristle at Emmett for his dismissive tone. “I’m not rich like you.”
“Being rich isn’t a crime.”
Probably not. But being a hot asshole is. Or at least, it should be.
“Did you just call me hot?” A corner of his mouth quirks up a little.
How is he able to keep reading my mind? We aren’t in the bar anymore. “You missed the ‘asshole’ part.”
“Hate it when that happens. But my mind only picks up the details worth remembering.”
“That’s why you have me. To remind you of details you’re too arrogant to remember.”
He laughs. Wonder what’s so funny. Because my life isn’t funny at all. No. Not even alcohol can save it.
Wow. That sounds depressing. “Emmett, do you know what’s really unfair?”
“No, but I’m sure you’ll tell me.”
I will indeed. Anything for a man who drives me in a dragon of a car. “Ever since I started working in finance, I haven’t been able to find an investment-grade date.” That explains why the sex I had with Emmett was so good. If nothing else, his dick is triple-A.
“What are you talking about? You’ve been dating awful lot.”
Is he judging me? He sounds mildly annoyed, but how dare he. He dates a lot, too! “Not really. Those were, you know, test drives. And they were all lemons. Not the kind you can put in a nice lemon bar dessert, but junk lemons. Sasha’s right. She says most men are junk bonds.”
A beat of silence. “What does that even mean?”
“It’s a rating system. You should know. You’re in finance!”
He gives me a look. “I know the system. I just have no idea how she would apply it to men. Not that I really care.”
“Well, you should.”
“Why? Sasha’s opinions don’t mean anything to me.”
“Noo, the rating system,” I say, quite annoyed that Emmett’s being obtuse. If he keeps this up, he might get downgraded to junk. “Anyway, do you know lemons have inferior engines?”
“Lemons have engines?”
“Of course! Just because they’re crappy, defective cars, that doesn’t mean manufacturers can sell engineless cars!”
“Ah. Those lemons.”
“Try to keep up. Anyway, I take them out for a test drive, and their engines die.”