Felicity

“C’mon, Felicity. You always say you’re going to come with us, but you never actually do it.”

Of course I didn’t sneak out with Carrie to meet her friends. I only had a few months to go until I aged out of the foster system, and I didn’t want to do anything to rock the boat. Carrie wasn’t able to understand my fear since she didn’t have to worry about getting kicked out. My foster parents were her real parents—something I hadn’t had since I was ten and mine had died in a car crash. They’d both been only children of older parents, and they’d left home when their families had wanted them to get an abortion instead of having me way too young. With my parents gone, there had been nobody to take me in.

After being bounced around to a few different foster homes—a couple of which were decent, but one that wasn’t—I’d come to live with Carrie’s family when I was thirteen. Ever since then, I’d been on my best behavior, knowing that the safety I’d found there could be ripped from me at any moment.

“Felicity!” Carrie snapped, stomping her foot. “Are you even listening to me?”

“Yes,” I lied.

“Then get up, get dressed, and put some make-up on.”

“Carrie,” I groaned, burying my head in my pillow.

“I don’t want to hear it,” she snapped. “My parents are going to be out super late tonight. They just left for dinner in downtown Seattle, and they’re going to a late show with friends afterwards. You don’t have any excuse not to come with me. They’ll never even know we were gone.”

I rolled over and looked up at her. She was probably right. Ever since she’d turned eighteen a month ago, they’d been a lot more lenient. Plus, the last time they’d done dinner and a show with friends, they hadn’t made it home until after two o’clock in the morning. I’d been feeling a bit restless lately, so I decided to take the risk since it seemed minimal. “Fine. I’ll go.”

“And you’ll let me pick out an outfit for you?” She blinked down at me with puppy-dog eyes.

If I was going to break the rules, I’d might as well do it looking my best. “Sure. Why not?”

It was a decision I came to regret an hour and a half later as I tugged the bottom of my dress while also trying to prevent my boobs from popping out of the top. “I cannot believe you talked me into wearing this dress.”

She shrugged her shoulders. “It worked, didn’t it? We look hot enough that they let us walk right in without asking for I.D.”

“Yeah,” I sighed, already wishing I’d just stayed home instead. I felt horribly out of place, even surrounded by Carrie and her friends. There were a lot more men than women in the bar, and everyone else looked like they belonged there. Even if we’d been twenty-one, we still would have been the youngest people there. Not that it stopped guys from sending us drinks. They were starting to pile up in on the table in front of me as I sipped at a diet soft drink.

“Then stop complaining and enjoy yourself,” she told me before she focused her attention back on her friends.

Their conversation drifted around me while I let my gaze sweep across the room. I wasn’t paying much attention to what I was seeing until I noticed a guy staring at me. An insanely hot guy with hair so dark it looked almost black and eyes to match. Eyes that were heated and locked on my face.

“Holy shit,” I breathed out. He was too far away to hear me, but his lips tilted up in humor as if he had. The dark scruff on his face didn’t hide the smile.

I quickly looked away, unsure of how to react. Boys hit on me at school, but I’d never been tempted to do anything beyond innocent flirting. But this was no boy—he was all man. And just knowing he was watching me had me hot and bothered. I took a sip of my drink before I peeked up again and found him still staring at me. He was dressed in a three-piece suit that looked like it had been designed for his body. It probably cost twenty times more than the dress I was wearing. One that I’d had to borrow from Carrie.

I might have been young, but I wasn’t dumb. I knew he was way out of my league. So, I gave him a little shake of my head, dragged my gaze away from him, and leaned over to whisper in Carrie’s ear. “I’m not feeling very well. I’m heading to the bathroom, and then I’m going to grab an Uber home.”

Her lack of empathy—and barely-there response—reminded me that although we’d lived under the same roof for more than four years, we weren’t sisters. We were hardly even friends. If we had been, she would have insisted on coming with me, and I wouldn’t have been alone when I walked out of the bathroom and right into a hard chest. Strong arms wrapped around me, and they didn’t let go once I was steady on my feet again. I knew who they belonged to before I looked up.

“You can let go of me now,” I whispered.

“I could,” he agreed, his deep voice sending shivers down my spine. “But I’m not going to.”

“That’s going to be awkward since I’m ready to leave.”

“Not awkward at all,” he corrected. “It sounds like impeccable timing to me since I don’t have anything keeping me here.”

He didn’t give me the opportunity to argue as he turned to lead me towards the front door. His arm slid down until his hand rested on my lower back.

“Alrighty then.”

He chuckled and pulled me closer, completely unimpressed with my grumbling. When we stepped outside, he handed a ticket to the valet. The hundred dollar bill I saw tucked under it had me gasping. If I’d been the least bit unsure about how far outside my league this guy was, that would have convinced me. It would take me several babysitting gigs to make that much money.

“Do you need them to pull your car around, too?” he asked.

I lifted my cell out of my purse and wiggled it. “No, I was going to Uber home.”

“Who brought you?” Those dark eyes of his flashed as he studied me.

My connection with Carrie was complicated, so I stuck with the simplest explanation. “One of the girls I was sitting with.”

The valet pulled up in a black, two-door car. I didn’t recognize the make or model, but it looked like something out of a movie. He left it running at the curb and opened the passenger side door.

“Oh, I’m not—” I started to explain.

A strong hand urged me forward as a deep voice whispered in my ear, “I’m more than happy to save you the hassle of waiting for an Uber.”

“But—”

“You never know who’s going to be behind the wheel of the car they send.”

I swiveled on my heel, one hand on the frame of his car and the other on his chest. “I don’t know you, either.”

“Fuck. You’re right,” he groaned, digging into his suit jacket for his wallet. He flipped it open and pulled out his driver’s license. “Here. Snap a picture of this and send it to your friend.”

I did as he suggested, but I stopped short of actually sending the message. He’d calmed some of my fears by making the offer, and I didn’t want to answer all the questions Carrie would have for me if she knew I’d left with a guy. Peering more closely at his ID, I noticed the date of birth. He wasn’t just a guy; he was a thirty-seven-year-old man.

“Harrison Brooks, huh?” I asked once we were both settled in the car, and he was pulling away from the curb. “The name fits the car.”

“You think so? I guess I’ll take that as a compliment since I’m more than fond of my Vanquish.” He quirked a dark eyebrow at me. “What about your name? Does it fit all the beauty that’s you?”

“Pardon me?”

His husky laughter filled the car, but it felt nice. Not like he was making fun of me. “Your name, honey.”

“Felicity.”

“Felicity,” he repeated, and my name had never sounded so good. “Perfect.”

“Thanks,” I whispered softly, my cheeks filling with heat.

“Which way am I headed?”

“Umm, hold on,” I stammered. I didn’t have my driver’s license and wasn’t familiar with the route Carrie had taken. As I was pulling my phone back out to pull up directions, my stomach growled. Loudly.

“Hitting the bar when you haven’t eaten is never a good idea.” He slowed the car and shot me another look. “Neither is leaving by yourself. You need to be more careful.”

“I don’t usually go to bars.” The last thing I wanted to admit to him was how old I really was, so I didn’t bother mentioning the reason. “And I did eat dinner, just not a lot of it.”

His gaze swept downwards, lingering on my bare thighs below the short hemline of my dress. “It better not be because you’re on a diet. You don’t need it.”

“Not a diet. Just not my favorite dinner.” My foster mom made something I pretty much hated, so I’d barely eaten.

“Let me feed you before I drop you off.”

“No, really. That’s not necessary.” My stomach growled again, contradicting my words so I tried a different tactic. “You won’t be able to find a restaurant open this late at night, and I can’t picture you driving this car through a fast food drive-through.”

He changed directions, doing a quick U-turn. “Challenge accepted, honey. I can have a hot meal in front of you in less than fifteen minutes.”