Myrla and I were settled in Aiden's SUV several minutes later. To my chagrin, we weren't the only ones traveling with him today. The object of my obsession, as well as a few of his friends, were also making the journey with us.
"So . . ." Dillon said, shifting in his seat to face us. "You girls are goin' to the concert, too?"
"Yup," Myrla replied, her tone enthusiastic. "Looking forward to seeing The Pumpkin Chemists again."
He smirked at her. "You've been to one of their concerts before?"
She nodded and grinned. "Loads of times."
"You British our somethin'?" Drake Pierce, a good friend of Dillon's, asked.
Myrla stared at him with surprise. "Ummm . . . no. Why?"
"The way you say stuff," Randy Johnson replied from his perch on the back seat. "Makes you sound British."
"Oh. Well, no, I'm not. I guess this way of talking rubbed off on me after spending so much time with my boy."
"Well, that sucks," Aiden said, glancing at Myrla through the rearview mirror.
I bit down on my lower lip to keep myself from laughing out loud. We weren't that far into our trip and already things were getting interesting.
"Why's that?"
"It just does."
Dillon rolled his eyes and shook his head. He ignored Aiden's words and focused on me.
"My darling Chance, we meet at last."
I raised an eyebrow at him and shook my head. "I'm not your darling."
"Not yet."
I snorted with derision. "How about never?"
He chuckled and grinned, his hazel eyes shining with delight. "Feisty as ever, I see."
Myrla stared at me with confusion. "The two of you met before?"
"Not officially," Dillon said. "We've crossed paths online is all."
My best friend pursed her lips. Her eyes narrowed.
"Interesting."
Refusing to meet her intense scrutiny, I cleared my throat and glanced out the window. "Uh-uh."
Myrla feigned being angry with me. "When were you going to tell me?"
"Never," I mumbled.
"Chance!"
Shifting in my seat, I faced her once more. "What?"
She growled and reached out to smack her hand across the back of my head. "Never mind," she said, turning around to face the front of the car.
"How's the writing going?" Dillon asked.
"I'm not a writer," Myrla replied.
He gave her a pointed look and tilted his eyes. "I wasn't talking to you."
Her eyes opened wide before her mouth formed the perfect O.
Unable to help myself, I burst into laughter. "It's going."
Myrla glanced in my direction and glared.
This is so not happening right now.
"Anything new?" he asked.
I shrugged. "Maybe."
A smirk of amusement flashed across Dillon's lips. "You don't like talking about your writing, do you?"
"I do."
"But—?"
"We don't know each other well enough for me to divulge the juicy tidbits with you."
Dillon burst into laughter. "You know that's not true."
"Yes, well, I'm still not going to tell you what you think you want to hear."
"Leave the girl alone," Aiden scolded.
"But I—"
"Don't make me turn the car around."
A muscle twitched along Dillon's lower jaw. His eyes bored deep into mine. He released a pent-up breath and turned around, settling into his seat once more.
I stared at the back of his head, while eyeing his taut shoulders, knowing I was the source of his agitation. Part of me regretted angering him, but I wasn't in the mood to discuss my writing . We were on the way to Vegas. This was time for all of us to have fun, not to discuss business.
Perhaps someday soon we'd be able to talk about anything and everything. For now, though, I wanted to have fun and enjoy each moment as they came. That wasn't asking for much, was it?
