Drew clears his throat. His expression now looks pensive. “I was having a rough day. I decided to take my new car out for a spin. I jumped on the 5 and headed north until it became the BC-99. When it was time to head back south, I did so until CHP suggested I exit. That’s when we met.” He quickly glances my way with a forced smile.
I’m not fully convinced he planned that road trip to Canada. I’m pretty sure I’m not the only one in this car who’s running from something. A surge of bravery shoots up my spine. I get this sudden urge to dig deeper into his life as he’d done to me earlier at the diner.
“What happened?” When he shifts his sight back over to me, I blink nervously and quickly ease up my expression to that of a non-threatening one. I don’t want him feeling pressured into confiding in a pushy stranger. If nothing else, I want to appear as understanding as possible in case he doesn’t feel comfortable with spilling his guts out to me.
If he refuses to confide in me, he won’t hurt my feelings, I convince myself.
“That’s if you don’t mind telling me,” I tag on.
Hey—I think it’s only fair he spills since he knows why I’m headed to where I’m going. When he doesn’t answer right away, I answer for him.
“Was it because of a girl?” I playfully speculate.
“No,” he answers too quickly.
I flinch as my spirit plummets. I guess nothing’s awry in the love department for this fella. That makes one of us.
“There’s this deal I worked very hard on.”
I’m stunned that he’s actually still talking to me, but I don’t show my hand. Instead, I’m all ears.
“It fell through,” he reveals. “Since the inception of my company over ten years ago, I’ve had success after success. It’s been smooth sailing up to this point. As you can imagine, at this stage of the game, I’d forgotten how it felt to lose.”
Man, that’s some very insightful shit, I sigh to myself.
“To ease the pain, I bought this car from a neighbor who’s in the process of moving overseas. Paid cash. I took off in it with no plans of stopping anyplace in particular. I stopped in Vancouver after literally driving all day. Stayed overnight. The next day, I took in the sights. Made some calls. Had lunch with some associates. On the way back home, I detoured off the 5 and saw the sign entering Weed, California.”
I grin wide at the fact that his brain is just as warped as mine.
“I had to stop and take a picture of that sign for my idiot little brother.”
I crack up laughing. “I was taken by the name of the town, too. I’m so bummed I couldn’t get a picture.”
“I’ll email it to you.”
“Thank you.”
“So—after that, I was starving. That’s when I stopped by Stay-Hi Café. By the way, I took a picture of their sign, too. For the little bro, of course,” he winks playfully. “I’ll email that to you as well.”
I giggle. Not only is this guy sexy and apparently wealthy, but he has a great sense of humor. Drew O’Brien is the full package. If a girl had a chance to sculpt the perfect boyfriend, he would be the end result.
I’m damn jealous of this supermodel girlfriend of his—the one I have pictured in my head. Drew’s about six-foot-four or five. The man is tall. Therefore, I imagine his girlfriend is about five-ten or six-one in heels. I’m picking up major Gisele Bündchen vibes from his hypothetical mate. Tall, blonde, and drop-dead gorgeous would be a nice complement to his tall, dark, and stupendously handsome. She probably has a sexy A-name like Ava, Amelia, or Aksana.
“Ten minutes after sitting down, I meet Miss Quen,” he says with a flirty twitch of the lips.
My breath catches in my throat, but then reality rudely sets in. He’s just being overly nice to the hitchhiker, I tell myself. If nothing else, this guy is stuck with me for God knows how long, so he wants me to feel comfortable. He’s only keeping things light and friendly. No way is this man actually attracted to me.
I’m five-six-and-a-half; five-seven when I stand with the correct posture. Yeah, I’m a slouch. I’m no supermodel. In fact, I could stand to lose about five pounds. Also, I’m not a blonde, and my name is too damned far away from the A’s. The name I have, my parents had to be drunk in order to come up with it. Look, if you’re going to name your child ‘Quinn’, which instantly screams ‘not hot’, at least fucking spell it right. Q-U-E-N?! To this day, I still give my dad shit about it.
“What’s your last name?” he asks out of nowhere. “Since you already know mine, I think it’s fair. You know…even the score.”
“Waverly,” I answer breathlessly. My subconscious is kicking me hard for revealing so much to a man I just met hours ago. Although, he’s right about me being armed with so many details about him. I know his name, job title, phone number, and business location—all of which were sent to Blair. I also had the foresight to memorize his license plate number, which I plan on giving to Blair as well once she calls me back.
“Quen Waverly?”
“Yep. Q-U-E-N.”
His eyes twinkle in response. “That’s quite unique. Is Quen short for something else?”
Here we go, I roll my eyes to myself. I’m not even going to try and explain my parents’ stupidity.
“Nope. Just Quen. Hey, you mind if I try my friend Blair again?”
It’s as if this man can smell my fear like a hound. I had to veer away from the subject. Blair seemed the best distraction.
“Not at all. In the glovebox,” he says, grazing my bare thigh as he gestures towards it.
I close my eyes and thank God and His angels that I decided to wear short shorts. Every nerve ending inside of me stands at attention. I take a deep breath to calm the chaotic explosion inside my belly. I clear my throat to regroup.
“Oh, that’s right,” I blink in a ‘stupid me’ fashion. You saw when he put the damn thing in there. I pop open the glovebox and retrieve his iPhone. I then glance at the screen and notice Blair’s number in his notifications. “Shit—she called three times.”
“Oops,” he cringes on my behalf.
I click on the notification and the phone immediately dials her back. I place the device to my ear.
“Oh my God, Quen?!” Blair blares into my ear. She was obviously freaking out.
“Yeah, it’s me. Sorry I missed your call.”
“What the hell, girl?! You had me spazzing over here!” she scolds.
“Sorry—didn’t mean to…”
“Are you still with tech mogul McHottie?”
Startled, I stare straight ahead; not looking to my left at him nor to my right. McHottie? How in the world does she know what he looks like?
“H…how do you…” I stutter and stop speaking midway. Thankfully, Blair puts me out of my misery.
“I looked him up as soon as I heard your message. Holy shit, girl—when you rebound, you certainly don’t play around,” she snorts. “A billionaire?!”
My eyes expand. “Excuse me?”
“Quen Waverly, an insanely hot billionaire tech mogul randomly picked you up while you were hitchhiking. The one and only Drew O’Brien is West Coast’s Most Eligible Bachelor, girlfriend—according to People Magazine!” she squeals.