Page 9 of College Boy

“Iambeing serious, Em. What if you get hit by a truck on the way home and die knowing the only man you ever slept with was a two-timing, lowdown, no good loan officer at some boring ass bank?”

Emma chuckled, the sound hollow and forced above the pit of her leaden stomach. “Sasha, he’s a babe in the woods. I’d be surprised if he can even buy beer yet. I’m practically twice his age.”

“Practically twice his age is notactuallytwice his age,” Sasha reminded her, pushing her playfully, if forcefully, toward the back door. “And 34 is hardly anything these days, girl. Honestly? A young stud, ready to indulge in a little spring break horniness? Could be just the ticket to get you back on the horse and out into the real world again.”

Emma found herself thudding down the back steps onto the concrete strip of sidewalk that bordered the backs of each quietly humming food truck, equal parts fast getaway and au natural employee breakroom. “I guess that’s what I’m afraid of, Sasha.”

Sasha stood in the doorway, looking every bit the scolding mother as she even wagged a finger, however playful, in the general direction of sweet, sexy, tempting Mitch. “You were afraid when we opened up this food truck park, Emma, and look at you now. You were afraid when your husband left you, and look at you now. I fully expect, a week from now, you to never be afraid of hitting on another man again, but you’ll never know if you don’t start now. Right now. Today.”

Emma started to protest, however weakly, when the door slammed shut in her face. She smiled, secretly glad for the pep talk if not the minor theatrics. After all, she’d been acting like she had her shit together all day when, obviously, nothing could be further from the truth.

Chapter Six

Mitch

“Finally!”

Mitch stood automatically, feeling it was the only right thing to do after waiting for so long. “Mitch, I ... what are you doing here?” Emma was stammering, looking even sexier than the night before in a snug faded purple t-shirt with a dancing sandwich on front.

“You. Me. Beach. Remember?” Mitch held his breath. He’d rehearsed the line so many times that morning that, finally hearing it aloud, he realized how many ways it could actually go fully sideways.

Emma blushed delightfully, looking refreshingly distressed in a sexy littlePB & Crayball cap, casting shadows on her lean, angular face. “I thought that was just late night talk, Mitch. Something you’d forget about the next day.”

“Not to me it wasn’t,” he said, hoisting his beach bag atop one shoulder. “And besides, spring break do over for you, remember?”

Emma glanced slightly up as he stood above her, nodding quietly and mumbling even quieter, “I remember,” she insisted with an almost shy little croak. “I’m surprised you did.”

“Why?” Mitch blurted, tempted to take her hand but inching toward the entrance to Snack Street instead. “This way we both get something out of it.”

“What doyouget again?” Emma asked, still hesitant but joining him on the brief walk back onto Seagull Street just the same.

“Me? I get to show you everything you missed out on never having a spring break of your own.”

“And that’d be ... fun for you?”

“Yeah, I mean, I’m sorry a clown like me has to be your guide, but it would kind of be my first spring break, too?”

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