Page 31 of Playing His Game

Mo made a face. Terrible—there he went having another good point. “Okay, but you have to admit, the car is nice.”

“It looksokay,” Adam admitted.

“Want to sit in it?” An attractive salesperson in a curve-hugging dress favored him with a dazzling smile.

Adam took a step back like he suspected the woman might shiv him. “Oh, no, I don’t think so…”

“Come on,” Mo urged. “How often do you get to sit in a six-million-dollar car?”

Adam spluttered. “It costswhat? Lord love a duck. No. No, thanks.”

“Like you can’t afford it.” Why would the Lord love a duck? Or not? The theoretical Lord would have theoretically made it.

“That’s not the point. I’d never want to drive it. I’d be too terrified.” He wrinkled his nose. “Besides, it’s a bit… much.”

Mo heaved a sigh. “What about a Lamborghini? Or a Porsche?”

“Are they also six million dollars?”

The salesperson—“Call me Cynthia”—laughed and led Adam to a Lambo Revuelto. Adam was definitely judging the orange paint job, but he said nothing as Cynthia detailed the specs, suggestively running her hand along the car’s curves. Mo had to give a girl props for knowing her game, even if it went right over Adam’s head.

“I don’t think I’m a sports-car guy,” Adam protested, but Mo had weaponized stubbornness at a young age and waited him out until he said, “Fine.”

Cynthia opened the door and waved him in. Adam sat, then turned belligerent eyes on Mo. “See?Thisis why I don’t drive sports cars.”

In going from standing to sitting, Adam had turned into human origami. The steering wheel was between his knees, which were pressed up against the dash. His shorts pulled taut across his thighs.

Mo cleared his throat. “Ah.”

Cynthia laughed and shepherded them to the SUVs. Whether it was Mo’s reaction to the Adam-and-car porn or something else, she’d caught on well enough to change her approach. She stopped feeling up the cars and instead asked direct questions about Adam’s needs.

Still, he looked just as daunted by the shiny Bentleys and Maybachs. Mo couldn’t blame her when she politely left them to consider the G63 on their own to go chat with another customer.

“Can we go now?” Adam pleaded the second she was out of earshot.

Okay, so Mo had known Adam probably wouldn’t want any of these cars, but a girl could dream.

They returned to the car and Mo tapped his fingers on the wheel again. “Having choices isn’t helping, is it?”

Adam pulled a face. “No.”

Mo considered everything Cynthia had pulled out of him. Adam wanted comfortable, reliable, safe. “Let’s simplify. Lexus, Audi, or”—he made his own face—“Cadillac.” Boring but respectable. More styling than Land Rovers. And at least this one wouldn’t be a safety hazard.

Adam started googling. Mo left him to it and considered the idea of parameters. Deciding expectations, including an end date, wasn’t a bad idea. Could they wait it out until Mo’s next birthday? Mo planned to leave Arizona anyway. He could move and Adam could blame him and the distance for the breakup. Sports media would vilify him, but what did Mo care? He’d have his money and be hundreds of miles away from his parents.

“I want this.” Adam waved his phone. A black Cadillac Vistiq filled the screen. Damn it. Maybe he could talk him out of it.

“Why that one?”

“It’s electric and made in the US.”

So much for that. At least he didn’t want a Tesla.

“All right, let’s go buy your—shudder—Cadillac.”

“You were the one to suggest it.” Adam pouted.

“Just because they were an option doesn’t mean they’re the one I wanted you to pick.”