“Give me those,” I said. I wanted to sound strong and unafraid, like Princess Leia as she confronted Governor Tarkin, but the words came out as barely a whisper. I wanted to grab my keys from him, but his muscled and decorated arm was too intimidating.
“No can do.” He shook his head slowly. “I can’t let you go like this. Seriously, babe—you can’t drive. Let me call you a cab or something.”
I knew he was right. I just didn’t want to be having this discussion with this guy. He didn’t belong here. He belonged at the biker bar over by the Harley store or maybe in one of those gang-banger clubs downtown.
Did our downtown even have gang-banger clubs?
What the hell is a gang-banger, anyway?
Whatever it was, I was becoming increasingly sure he was one. I glanced around the parking lot, wondering if I should scream for help, but knew that would just cause a scene. He hadn’t actually done anything wrong, and hadn’t I embarrassed myself enough for one night? There wasn’t anyone else in the parking lot anyway. Most of the cars were already gone, and I wondered just how long it had been since Mare and Nate left.
Why didn’t I get a ride with them?
His body pressed closer to mine, and I looked up into his face again. His rough cheeks shadowed the rest of his features, and I wondered what they would feel like on my thighs.
Good lord, Chole! What are you thinking?
Part of me was definitely thinking that he was really, really attractive, despite being nowhere near my type. My type was the same kind of guy Mare was attracted to—guys with glasses and degrees in engineering, like Zach had been. I didn’t go for bad boys because they were…well, they were bad.
“I don’t want a cab,” I said. I needed to get my head back on straight and wondered if a screwdriver was going to be necessary. Then I remembered that screwdrivers were what got me here in the first place. “I just want to go home.”
“Let me drive you, then?”
Images of me climbing onto the back of a souped-up Harley ran through my head. I’d never been on a motorcycle before, and the idea of holding on to someone and relying on my own grip to keep me from falling off the back was enough to make me shudder.
“I’m not riding on the back of a Harley!”
His brow furrowed.
“Harley?” He tilted his head to one side. “I’m in a Honda.”
A Honda? No, that didn’t fit at all.
“You are not,” I said.
“I’m not?” His grin returned, and his eyes sparkled in the light from the streetlamp.
“No way.”
“That’s what it says on the trunk,” he replied. “It’s got that little stylized ‘H’ and the word ‘Civic.’”
“You? In a Civic?” It was my turn to laugh. There was just no way a guy that size could possibly fit through the door of such a small car.
“Yeah, me in a Civic. What’s wrong with that?”
“You wouldn’t fit in a Civic.”
He tilted his head down and to the side as he chuckled.
“Well, it’s not easy, I’ll admit.” He looked back to my face again. “It beats sleeping in the parking lot, though.”
I didn’t know if I should believe him or not. I still couldn’t imagine him with any vehicle other than a Harley, and the image was so stuck in my head, anything else seemed ridiculous. I took a deep breath and straightened my shoulders.
“Give me my keys. I need to get home.”
“You know I can’t do that.” Brick Wall moved his hand behind his back, and my keys disappeared into his pocket. He placed his now empty hand on the other side of my head. “Now what’s it going to be—call a cab or drive you home?”
He was very close to me now, and the heat from his body warmed the night air between us. If he moved any closer, his body would be pressed against mine. The thought made my ears—and other parts of me—tingle with anticipation.