I stared at him then looked down his wide chest to his trim waist then to his hands. One hand was holding his beer, the other one had the thumb hooked in his cool-as-heck, beaten up, black leather belt.

I looked back to his face. “Do you have something to write it down?”

He gave a slight shake of his head and an even slighter (but definitely hot) lip twitch before he stated, “Millie, you give me your number, do you think I’m gonna forget a single digit?”

Okay, wow. That was really nice.

I gave him my number.

He repeated it instantly and accurately.

“That’s it,” I confirmed.

He didn’t reply.

I started to feel uncomfortable.

And nervous.

I’d just made a date with a guy I didn’t know at all except I knew my parents wouldn’t approve of him and then I gave him my number.

Now what did we do?

“You come with someone?” he asked.

It was weird that he asked that now, after he’d asked me out.

After I thought it was weird, I thought that maybe he thought I was on a date and then made a date with him while I was on a date and then he’d think I was a bitch!

“No, just some girlfriends,” I told him quickly.

He gave me another smile. “That’s comin’ with someone, darlin’.”

Oh.

Right.

I bit my lip.

“Who?” he asked.

“Justine,” I answered, tipping my head toward the kitchen table where there were four guys and two girls sitting. When he turned his head to look, I expanded my answer, “The brunette.”

And right then, Justine, my friend the pretty brunette, drunkenly bounced a quarter on the table toward a shot glass, missed, and grinned. Two of the guys and one of the girls immediately shouted, “Shot!” Thus, she unsteadily grabbed the glass and threw it back, some of the vodka in it dribbling down her chin.

She finished this still grinning.

“You ain’t ridin’ back with her,” Logan growled and my gaze shot back to him. “Fact, she ain’t drivin’ anywhere.”

Oh man, I could love this guy.

Oh man!

That was crazy!

How could I possibly think I could love this guy just from him saying that?

“She isn’t, and I’m not,” I shared. “We’re staying the night here.”

“Good,” he muttered right before he got bumped by someone precariously making his way to the keg.

“You wanna get out of here?” I found myself asking and got his swift attention. “I don’t know. Sit out on the back deck or something?” I finished quickly so he didn’t get any ideas.

“Fuck yeah,” he whispered, his brown eyes locked to mine, and the way he said that, the way he was looking at me, I felt a shiver trail down my spine.

“Okay,” I whispered back.

He leaned in and grabbed my hand. His was big and rough and felt warm and strong wrapped around mine.

Okay.

Oh God.

Seriously.

Seriously.