By the time I switch to fifth gear, we are coasting at around 110 mph and the kid in the Camaro isn't even close to us. I gradually slow down and come to a complete stop at the next light. The young kid in the Camaro finally pulls up next to us, and he is just shaking his head with a slightly embarrassed look on his face. "I guess you can handle that car, huh?"
"Yeah, I guess so," I respond with a confident laugh. The light turns green and I give the kid in the Camaro a slight wave before turning left and pulling away. I look over to the passenger side and see that Trent is looking at me with intensity in his eyes.
"What? Why are you looking at me like that?" I can't hide the shy tone in my voice.
The look on his face is making me feel slightly self-conscious. I'm wondering if I've pissed him off. Doing something like that would have made John angry with me. He hated riding bitch in my Mustang, and if he was riding bitch while I was street racing some young guy, hell would have probably frozen over. And honestly, John never really let me drive him around. His ego is far too big for that. He came up with every excuse in the book to avoid sitting in the passenger seat.
"Ellie girl, you really are a little spitfire. I don't think I've ever seen a girl handle a muscle car like you just did. That was hot, Elle. Really hot."
I can't hide the smile that has taken over my face. “I like it when you call me a spitfire and give me compliments about my hotness.” I give Trent a suggestive expression as I pull into a parking spot at Murphy's and turn off the engine. "How about we go get that drink?"
"I think that's a damn fine idea, little spitfire," Trent says before opening the passenger door and getting out of the car.
I take the time to watch his fine ass exit my vehicle, and my assumptions were correct—his tight ass looks fantastic in those jeans. If I could sink my teeth into those muscular cheeks, I would.
I'm starting to think that this night isn't going to be so bad…
Chapter Twelve
“If you find yourself willingly enjoying getting sexed by a man with a fetish for dressing up in a bear costume and fucking in the woods because you dig him that much, then I'd say you have just found your soul mate.”
Trent and I stroll into Murphy's and manage to find two seats at the bar. The crowd seems to be bigger than normal for a Sunday, but I'm sure this has everything to do with all of the college kids that are enjoying their summer break.
Johnny, my favorite bartender, heads our way with a big, dimpled smile across his face. I've known Johnny since I started coming to this bar a few years ago with Amy. He is a bear of a man. He stands at well over six foot and has to weigh at least two hundred and eighty pounds. His bald head and numerous tattoos make him appear extremely intimidating, but the man has a heart of gold and is a complete sweetheart.
"My favorite girl! What can I get you to drink, Elle?" Johnny is leaning against the bar, chocolate eyes grinning at me.
"Just give me a Corona. Johnny, this is Trent. Trent, this is my favorite bartender, Johnny."
Trent shakes his hand. "Nice to meet you, man. So how long have you known this little firecracker?"
Johnny lets out a loud laugh. "I've known Elle for years now and have all kinds of stories."
"Hey now! Let's not get into those stories. I'd like to have a night where I'm not reminded of how easily I can embarrass myself." I poke Johnny's shoulder. Johnny dramatically feigns injury while Trent smiles at my remark.
The very last thing I need is for Johnny to start dishing out my crazy drunken stories. I'm obviously notorious for shenanigans, and Murphy's bar has seen a lot of them. Trent orders a beer and hands Johnny his credit card, instructing him to put all of the drinks on his tab—mine included. I try to refuse, but the man is stubborn and insists that he cover my drinks since I drove him here.
We make small talk about random things, and I'm finding that conversation with Trent comes easily. There are never any awkward silences or uncomfortable chitchat. Things just seem to flow between us, and I find myself loving this fact while simultaneously hating it. I'm scared shitless to get attached to someone, to risk my heart and fall in love again. My heart was battered just a few short months ago, and I just can't fathom experiencing that for a second time. I'm nearly one hundred percent certain that if another man breaks my heart I will start working on my muff-diving skills.
Trent and I are enjoying each other's company immensely. He is witty and adorable, and somehow he manages to maintain this sexy-as-hell demeanor that has my insides clenching with each husky laugh. He keeps brushing my hair out of my eyes and tucking it behind my ear. I find myself thinking about how much I enjoy feeling his touch.