Page 34 of Wish Lists and Road Trips

My phone rang in my hand as I was plugging it in behind a chair.

“Hello?”

“Is this Nick Callaway?” a voice filled with tobacco and motor oil asked.

Finally.“Yes, this is him.”

“Got your call. We have your vehicle here.”

“Great. Thanks. How can I get it back?”

I heard him swallow something, then he said, “Hundred and seventy-five bucks.”

I groaned. “Fine. Where?”

He rattled off an address and I typed it in a text to Brit as he spoke since I didn’t have a pen.

The chirp of her phone startled me, and I spun around to see her standing behind me in my red boxer shorts and dirty T-shirt, the sleeves rolled up and the bottom tied in her signature crop-top knot just above her navel.

All the blood drained from my brain. I thought she was beautiful the moment I saw her, but she had a sweetness in her eyes that had helped my mind steer clear of the gutter. This look though? This was sexy as fuck.

She still had her heels on—Christ,how does a woman so tiny have such long legs?—and I forced my eyes away from her thighs onto her face. It didn’t help. She’d pulled her hair up in a ponytail on the side of her head and her mascara had melted into a thick line of charcoal beneath her eyes. She looked like a stripper dressed as Punky Brewster for Halloween and my dick sent a whole host of images to my brain without my permission—Brit sitting open-legged on top of one of these washing machines while I pulled that T-shirt over her head. My mouth on her stomach, her pink nails digging into my shoulders.

So much for my pep-talk when we’d left the airport.

“Well? Can you be here then?” The tow-truck guy barked in my ear.

“Uh. Sorry. I didn’t hear you.”

“I said I’ll be back at the lot at eight-thirty. Be there then or I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Wait. Eight-thirty? We have to be in—” I heard the call disconnect “—Mobile . . . Fuck!”

What kind of back-woods, one-man show was this guy running where he had to hold my car hostage all evening before taking my money?

Brit fell into the chair beside me, looking up at me with her charcoal-stained eyes. “Bad news?”

“We’re not getting the car back tonight.” Eight-thirty was too late. By that time, we’d only have a few hours before we’d need to stop again, and I’d rather sleep now and be rested for the marathon we’d have to do tomorrow.

“I’m sorry, Nick.”

“It’s not your fault,” I said, forcing my voice steady. “It’s just—we should have had hours more driving time before we had to stop for the night.”

“So, we’ll just find a place to sleep here.” She crossed her legs, forcing my boxers to ride up her bare thigh. I wished I had a blanket to cover her up with. Seeing her in my underwear was too much. I was going to have to start reciting baseball statistics in my head to keep from walking around with a permanent tent in my pants.

She scooted closer to me and dropped her head on my shoulder.Not helping.

“You’re already tired,” she said. “I can see it in your eyes. We’ll rest and reset and make up for it tomorrow.”

I looked down at her and immediately felt the fatigue hit my muscles. She was right. I was exhausted but I’d just promised Tom I’d be back on time. “Anything goes wrong and we’ll miss the train.”

“We’ll make it,” she said, patting my thigh. She smiled up at me with those pretty pink lips and I stared at them, thinking dirty things. This time I didn’t fight it. If nothing else went right for me today, I was at least going to enjoy looking at her while we were stuck here.

I sprawled out over a row of chairs, resting my head on my backpack, and got to work answering emails while Brit took her clothes to the washing machine. I was in the middle of combing through a quote from a contractor for a renovation I was overseeing when one of those metal rolling carts crashed into my knee.

I looked up to see Brit sitting on one of the folding tables across the room, swinging her legs.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

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