The Billionaire's Best Friend(19)

“It’s about time. I’ve never had to wait this long before for them to come.”

Quickly the tow truck driver attached Lauren’s car to the truck. After giving her the name of the garage he was towing it to, he pulled away from the curb, once again leaving them alone.

“We should go.”

When Nate opened the car door for her and, as he headed down Route 3, they didn’t speak at all. Under different circumstances he would’ve tried to get her talking again. Their earlier conversation had been relaxed and enjoyable. For the time being, however, he decided his concentration should be on the road rather than words. The road conditions had deteriorated while they’d waited for the tow truck and visibility stunk. Once he got her home safely maybe they could talk. Or perhaps he could talk and, hopefully, she’d listen. Since his visit to her house, he’d decided to honor her request and not bother her again—and hope maybe miracles did exist. But with Lauren so close now, he found himself wondering if he should try just one more time. During his last attempt he’d only scratched the surface of what he wanted to tell her before her date arrived.

Nate’s blood started to boil at the thought of Lauren with her date. Where had they gone that night? What had they done when they returned? Nate clenched his jaw at the questions. None of it was any of his business. Acknowledging the fact didn’t undo the knots in his stomach.

“I really appreciate the ride home,” Lauren said, breaking the silence in the car for the first time. “I don’t know what I would’ve done otherwise.”

“Glad I could help.” The car skidded to the right as he turned onto her street. Almost all of the houses were ablaze with light. It seemed as if everyone had decided to hunker down for the night and wait out the storm at home. In fact, Lauren’s house was only one of two houses that didn’t have lights on.

“JoJo is going to love going outside in this. I’ve never seen a dog like the snow as much as she does.”

Speaking of dogs, he should probably call and ask his mom to let Maggie out. He’d been gone for hours, and who knew how long it would take him to get home. Before he left Lauren’s he’d call. Although, knowing his mom, she had probably already stopped in his apartment to let the dog out and feed her.

“If you need a ride to the garage, call me.” Nate stopped in front of her garage. She’d probably call Kevin or Kyle or whatever the guy’s name was, but he wanted her to know he was there for her, too.

Lauren pushed open the door but didn’t move. “You shouldn’t be driving anymore tonight.”

“I’ll be fine.”

Cocking her head to one side she looked at him then glanced out the window. “Why don’t you stay here tonight? The roads are lousy, and I have a spare bedroom.”

He’d envisioned spending the night with her many times over the years, but none of those visions ever included him using a spare bedroom. “You sure Kyle won’t mind?” he asked, taking a guess at the guy’s name.

“His name is Kevin, and no he won’t mind.” Lauren pushed the door open more. “I’ll run in and open the garage door so you can park in there.” She didn’t wait for a reply. Jumping out, she trudged across the snow-covered walkway and into the house. Seconds later, the garage door went up, and Nate drove inside.

When he’d left work hours earlier he’d cursed the slow traffic leaving the city and the weather. Now, sitting in Lauren’s garage, he didn’t mind it so much. By nature Nate didn’t buy into the whole everything-happens-for-a-reason belief. Yet, at least in this case, events out of his control were throwing the two of them together for the night. And even though he’d told himself to back off and leave her alone, he planned to make one last attempt at breaching her defenses.

Keep cool and don’t let anything she says get your temper going. She’d always known how to get him going. When they’d been a couple, he’d sworn she did it sometimes just for fun.

Nate entered the house through the door connecting the two-car garage to the kitchen. On his last visit he hadn’t made it any farther into the house than the living room, but he wasn’t surprised that the kitchen reflected Lauren’s personality. The walls were painted a sunny yellow, her favorite color. A few flowerpots overflowing with fresh herbs lined the windowsill above the sink. Bar stools sat beneath the counter, and pictures of famous locations in France hung on the walls. “Lauren,” he called out, closing the door behind him.

“Make yourself at home. I’ll be there in a minute.”