6

Cleo

Not What I'm Used To

"You drive like somebody escaping prison." I laughed.

"I don't want to use what little time we have on the road."

I took a long look at the man in the driver's seat. He was the most relaxed I'd ever seen him, and that was saying something. His hand languished over the steering wheel like we were taking a Sunday drive, not flying down the highway, engine roaring to let everybody else know about our recent prison break.

Miles finally eased the car to the speed limit and I shook my head. "How has nobody taken your license yet?"

"That's why I can't go to Marrs." He chuckled. "Houston's a sprawling city. I'd get caught for sure."

The few street lamps overhead illuminated our drive, but no matter how many questions I pestered Miles with, he wouldn't budge and tell me where we were going.

Finally, we sat outside of our destination. I cocked my head to the side.

"Hear me out," he murmured.

I shook my head, trying not to let the surprise show. "Wow. It's just…not what I was expecting."

We left KYU's campus and drove thirty wild minutes to the most colorful building in the distance. I never would've guessed it. I'd seen the arcade and go-kart centers back in Houston - I'd just never been to one. Miles strode over to the side of the car and opened my door before I could beat him to it.

"You're a legacy girl," he explained. "I'm sure you've been to great restaurants on any other date. I didn't want this to be every other date. So I'm trying something new. Let me know if it works."

An easy smile crossed my lips. "That's very…sweet."

"Thank you."

Miles grinned the kind of grin that lit up his face like nothing else. Wow, that man was a looker. I only stopped gawking at him when I looked closer at the arcade.

"Miles, I think we have a problem."

"What's the problem?"

"Um, look at the windows." I gestured around the parking lot, completely devoid of life. "I think this place is closed. We can find somewhere else to go. Trust me, this is basically what I do for a living."

"Nope." Miles offered his arm to me. "I bought it out for tonight."

My eyebrows shot up. "You bought this whole place for…tonight?"

"Yep."

Once again, he answered a question and didn't. Obviously, I wanted to know more than that. He understood that and purposely didn't give me an inch of details.

I hurried after him, but my mind whirled. I worked with the other interns at Marrs and juggled donors, community leaders, and people who made fifty times more than I did, to piece together what they wanted and how they wanted it. Everybody has hidden meanings; everybody has hidden intentions.

But Miles was so open about everything, it threw me off.

A huge welcome greeted us inside. Nine of the arcade's employees sat on one of the half-walls with slushies in hand.

"Welcome in!" a guy at the end with a bag of popcorn bellowed. "Miles Locke! "

I stared, but Miles quickly explained to me. "No cameras, no pictures. I used the blanket contract they made for Sullender."

"Oh." I blinked, astounded at the lengths he'd gone through to prepare for just a date. " Oh ." I smoothed out my skirt and offered a hand to the first person down the line. "We absolutely appreciate privacy for this, and we thank you for—for—"

At the end of the line, Miles knuckle-punched a few of them and clapped a few more on the back, heading in. Right. We weren't there for a university-sponsored event. It was a date. Just the two of us.

"You're welcome to grab whatever," he told the employees, offering his arm to me again. "Just put it on my tab."

This is not what I'm used to.

Gingerly, I took his arm and some of the employees wolf-whistled. Absolutely not what I was used to. I ducked closer to him to hide the blush, and we walked between the games together to a bucket of coins on top of a table.

It was planned perfectly. And I didn't have to lift a finger for it.

How crazy is that?

With him so close, the taut muscles in his arm, the warmth that radiated off his body, that mouthwatering cologne, my nerves lit up. I was all too aware of Miles Locke and his effect on me.

He reached into the bucket of coins and fished out a bronze one, holding it up for my inspection. "So…what's legacy Cleo Bennight like?"

We talked about everything. Everything and anything. I gave a rundown of the basics, Riverside home, Travis Lake vacation home in Austin, top of my grade. My grandfather took me to every Marrs game he could. The fact that I'd worn dark blue my whole life. All the important details.

And Miles told me about the mechanic shop his family owned in Nevada, how he grew up close to roads where you can speed down as fast as you wanted to, and all his favorite haunts to visit between football games. How proud his family was, how proud they were still. How often his coach declined his visits out of KYU.

I frowned. "What do you mean decline?"

"I'm not allowed off campus for more than a couple of hours."

" What? " I demanded. "That's ridiculous. We have a player—King—and he's constantly at his mom's place. Who are they to decide what you get to do with your free time?"

"The way they see it, if they gave me free days, I might get picked up again." Miles offered a humorless smile. But he must've seen something on my face because he leaned over to bump shoulders with mine while we worked the joysticks of a fishing game. "You're losing, vixen. Better pick up the pace."