He blinks and shakes his head. “I didn’t save you from Caleb.”

“Ah, but you will.” I lean forward to whisper, grateful to see that he leans in to listen rather than away. “I gave him your phone number instead of mine.”

He turns to me, and this time there’s no hint of a smile or shadow of humor. This time he’s grinning so big that I can see all his teeth and the cute way his eyes crinkle at the sides. “No shit?”

He falls back into his seat, his chin tilted high as the deep bass of his rolling laughter bounces around the truck cab. My eyes fall shut, and I allow myself a few seconds to bathe in the beauty of the sound. When I open them again, he’s still chuckling and looking straight ahead.

“Caleb’s going to be shocked when he calls to hear your sweet voice and gets mine.” With the truck still idling, he knocks it into drive.

Did he just call my voice sweet? My stomach flips and there’s a warm swell in my chest.

“Wait a minute.” He turns toward me. “How do you know my phone number?”

Uh-oh.

I clear my throat, thinking fast. “I uh . . . got it from Mario after the whole flat-tire thing. I was going to call you to apologize for . . . you know, but decided it needed to be done in person.”

“Really?”

No, I stole it from Mario six months ago and sometimes call just to hear your voicemail. “Yeah.” I give my most convincing smile.

He shrugs and doesn’t look too concerned about the fact that I not only have his phone number but that I also have it memorized.

“About that date.” He pulls out of Jonah’s long driveway and into the neighborhood. “Do you like rollercoasters?”

And with that simple question all the tension is gone. “Hell yeah, I do.”

~*~

Rex

That was close. I almost broke down and told Mac everything. Confessed that I have issues with sex and that I only hook up with sluts that’ll take what I give and then walk away and that I never hook up with a woman without alcohol as a barrier between what my body has to accomplish and how my thoughts respond. At least, until Mac.

Thank God she didn’t push the issue. I’m not sure why she didn’t. Instead, she diffused the whole conversation by redirecting it to our date.

She says I’m the one doing all the rescuing, but she took a hit for me once, and then another by changing the subject of our conversation.

“Are we going to the strip?” She looks out her side window to the Las Vegas landmark just off the freeway.

It’s not dark out, but even under the sun, the strip stands out against the bland desert backdrop.

“Yeah, I’ve ah . . . There’s a place I go to, and I thought you might like it.” My face heats at how awkward it feels to share this part of me with another person. I have two sides, the public side that acts for a crowd of screaming fans whether that’s from a stage or a cage and the darker side that I keep to myself. Most of the guys I’m close to have seen glimpses of my fucked-up psyche, and the few hookers I’ve paid for relief have witnessed the aftermath of it, but to willingly bring a person in on it? Yeah, this is new.

“Sounds intriguing.”

“I figure if you ride a motorcycle then you’re a bit of a thrill seeker. We’ll see how brave you are on Insanity.” I’m off the freeway and headed to the Stratosphere, which advertises the three most terrifying thrill rides in the world.

“Insanity? What is it?” She’s pressing her cheek up against the passenger-side window, trying to look up to the top of the casinos that are coming into view.

“It’s a ride that hangs you 1,000-feet high facing the street and spins you ’til you puke or pass out.” I bite down on my molars, waiting for the screaming girl freak out.

She turns to me, her eyes wide. Yep, here comes the freak out.

“Fuck yeah!” She bounces in her seat like a damn kid. “Let’s do it!”

What the hell? “Really? You’re down?”

“Are you kidding me?” Leaning forward, she looks up through the windshield. “Are we close?”

I point out my side window to the Stratosphere in the distance. “Over there.”

She crosses the center console with her torso in order to look out my window. The intoxicating tropical smell of her hair is so close I hold back the urge to grab a fistful and bury my nose in it.

Before I get the chance, she sits back in her seat. Her hand flies to her belly and she smiles. “I have butterflies.”

I’ve seen the tough side of Mac, the tomboy who jumps in front of bikers, the scared shitless side at being locked in a room alone, and even the softer side after a bad dream, but this side, the cute childlike excitement, is my favorite so far. There’s an innocence to her now that I envy—a carefree joy that I’ve only seen in others but can never remember feeling.

We pull up to the lobby of the Stratosphere. By the time I’m finished dealing with the valet, Mac’s already out and waiting for me by the doors. She’s grinning and bouncing on her toes.

“Let’s go.” I smile and grab her hand to lead her through the hotel casino, bypassing the ticket counter.

She pulls back against my hold, resisting. “Tickets.” She points to the sign that clearly states we need tickets to the tower and rides. “Don’t we need to buy them here first?”

“Nope.” I tug her hand and move toward the bank of elevators. “They know me here. I come a lot, so I pay monthly and they let me do whatever I want.”

She stops us again. “Oh, well here.” Reaching into the small purse she has hung diagonally from one shoulder to her hip, she pulls out some cash.

I shake my head. “Not takin’ your money, Mac. Put that shit away.”

“No, it’s okay.” She shakes the wad of green at me. “Take it. You don’t have to pay—”

I cup her jaw, pressing my thumb against her lips. Fuck, just the feel of them on my finger makes me want to taste them again, but I need to keep this friendly, more for her sake than mine. “Shhhh. Please, no more talk of you paying.”

She nods and puts her money away.

“Atta girl.” It takes all my effort to pull my hand from her face to avoid getting lost in her wide eyes, which are begging for more. Fuck, I need to reel in my shit. A few moments of silence pass between us.

We move again toward the elevator, but a few yards away, she stops again. What now?

“Mac.” I turn toward her to see her cheeks flushed and her eyes wide and fixed on the elevator doors.

“What is that?” Her hand in mine is clammy.

“Elevators to the top. That’s where the rides are.”

“Oh, yeah. Right.” She shifts on her feet. “Can we take the stairs?” There’s a shakiness in her voice.

Stairs?

“Hey.” I tighten my hold and search her eyes. “You change your mind? We can do something else if you want.”

Her gaze darts to the elevator doors. “No, I want to go but, um . . .” She locks eyes with mine. “I hate elevators.” A weak smile pulls at her lips.

First hospitals and now elevators. What that’s all about?

“It’s a quick ride to the top. I’ll be right there with you.”

My reassurance seems to relax her a little. I lead her up the last few steps to the doors and press the arrow-up button.

She clears her throat. “How many levels to the top?”

“Over one hundred.”

Her head whips around, eyes on mine, and the pale brown sparks with panic. “One hundred?”

I turn to face her head on. “Walk through your fears. You’ll realize it’s not as bad as you think.” It’s good advice, but very seldom works for me. “You’ll be fine. Promise.”

Her expression softens. She takes in a deep breath and nods.

A ding sounds from the elevator and the doors slide open, letting out a group of giggling, flushed-faced teenagers. Her grip on my hand tightens, but only slightly.

“Tom, what’s up, man?” I give the elevator attendant a chin lift that I’m sure he misses as his eyes are glued to the strikingly gorgeous and visibly nervous girl at my side. The way he’s eyeing her would probably piss me off if the dude didn’t look like someone’s grandpa.

I tuck her to my side and move into the elevator. She tenses, dragging her feet, but manages to get inside.

“Rex.” He gives her a polite nod of his head. “I see you’re doing well.” The corners of his lips curl.

“Been good.” I’ve never brought a chick with me. I’m sure I’ll be hearing about this next time I come back alone. “Take us to the top.”

“Sure thing.” Tom hits the right buttons, and we begin our ascent to the top of the Stratosphere.

Mac curls a little deeper into my side.

“The elevator is traveling at twenty miles per hour.” Tom swings his gaze to Mac. “Don’t be surprised if you feel it in your ears.”

I almost grin when right on cue Mac yawns and pushes on her ears.

“Observation deck,” Tom says just before the elevator dings and the doors slide open. “See you on the way down.”

We step out and she whirls toward me, a grin lighting her face. “That wasn’t bad at all.”

I shrug. “Told you.”

“It was fast.” Her voice is laced with excitement.

My teeth pull at my lip ring to keep from grinning at the pride of her accomplishment.

I follow her to the observation deck with floor-to-ceiling glass, and she oohs and ahs over the view. This time she pulls me toward the elevator that will take us the last few levels to the rides on top.

Within minutes, we’re sitting side by side on Insanity, waiting for the rest of the ride to get loaded with people.

This is the kind of shit I live for—the rush that reminds me I’m alive. And having this experience with Mac is as nerve-wracking as it is thrilling. I’ve never shared this part of myself with anyone, and doing it feels better than I thought it would.