One Night of Trouble(7)
“Turn left at the next light,” she told AJ, who sat behind the wheel of his black Jeep.
The slight crease in his forehead revealed that he was sensing her nervousness, and he was right to sense it. At the moment, her palms were clammy and her heart was pounding so hard it was all she could hear.
It wasn’t a matter of not being attracted to him. Because she was. So badly her panties were soaked. But…this was AJ Walsh. All the girls in high school had fantasized about the guy, doodling his name in their binders, praying he’d say hi to them in the hall. Brett might have been an outcast, but she hadn’t been immune to AJ’s charms. She’d fantasized about him just as hard as everyone else, and a part of her couldn’t believe those old girlhood fantasies were about to become reality.
“You okay?”
His deep voice penetrated her thoughts. Blushing, she glanced over and nodded. “I’m good. You?”
“I’m just fine, angel.”
Angel.
God, now that he’d given her the nickname, he didn’t seem inclined to stop using it, and each time the husky word rumbled out, a shiver rolled through her.
She rested both hands on her thighs, discreetly wiping her damp palms on the front of her jeans. Music poured out of the car speakers, the volume so low it was barely audible, but her brow wrinkled when she recognized the song.
“Is this the radio?” she asked.
“No, it’s my iPod shuffle. Why?”
“You listen to Concrete Blonde?”
“I listen to a lot of things.” He raised his eyebrows when he saw her face. “Why do you look so surprised?”
“I don’t know…I guess it just doesn’t seem like something you’d listen to.”
“There you go again, making assumptions. So, tell me, what did you expect me to listen to?”
She thought it over for a moment. “John Mayer?”
A laugh popped out of his mouth. “Nope, can’t say I’m a fan.”
“Taylor Swift?” she suggested.
That got her a sheepish grin. “I’m not gonna lie. I think I have one or two of her songs on the shuffle.”
Brett sighed. “Don’t be too hard on yourself. We all have our guilty pleasures. Mine is Miley Cyrus. I blast ‘Party in the USA’ when I’m cleaning the house.”
The song in the car faded out, then switched to the faint sounds of hip-hop, which told her that AJ hadn’t been kidding. Apparently he did have an eclectic taste in music.
They went quiet again, and as they got closer to her apartment, her nerves returned. AJ might have said he was okay with one-night stands, but she didn’t quite believe him. No matter how dirty he’d acted back at the club, he still had good guy written all over him. His short, perfectly styled blond hair, crisp trousers and formfitting T-shirt gave him a preppy vibe—and in her experience, preppy men were usually all about relationships.
Well, Brett wasn’t looking for a relationship. Her last one had been about as healthy as deep-fried pizza covered in chocolate, and now that Troy was no longer part of her life, she was beginning to question her habit of throwing herself headfirst into relationships. She invested so much of her heart and soul into them, to the point where she lost sight of the rest of the world.
But she didn’t have time to give 100 percent to a man right now, not when too many things were up in the air at work. And if she finally convinced her father to let her run the shop, her free time would become even more limited.
“Brett?” They’d reached a stop sign, and AJ was looking at her expectantly. “Where to now?”
“Oh. Turn right. There’s a shortcut on this one-way street that will take us right to my apartment.”
A few minutes later, after he’d found a free parking space in front of the Korean general store she’d directed him to, he turned to her with a skeptical expression.
“You live here?”
“Yes, AJ, I live in a grocery store,” she cracked. “I sleep near the deli section. Bathroom’s by the frozen foods.”
He flashed a sheepish smile. “I guess that was a stupid question.”
“Duh.” She gestured to the curtained windows above the store. “My apartment is up there.”
Her pulse sped up as they got out of the car and headed for the narrow entryway next to the dark storefront. The street was quiet and deserted, as it always was past ten o’clock. The silence was one of her favorite things about the neighborhood. Rent in Allston Village was usually pretty steep, but Brett had gotten a great deal because her landlords adored her. The Kims owned the family-run general store below her, and since she’d tattooed all six of their sons on the cheap, Mr. and Mrs. Kim had been happy to let her sublet their apartment during their extended visit to Korea. She had a one-year lease for now, but she was keeping her fingers crossed that they’d let her stay longer. The couple’s eldest son, Daniel, had told her the other day that his folks were considering buying a house when they returned, which meant the apartment would be hers to keep renting.