Page 5 of All Wrong
He narrowed his eyes. Beautiful and intelligent and feisty as she was, he didn’t like people knowing his business. “Are you stalking me or something?”
The blush deepened, but he had to give hercredit. She stood her ground even if she did shift her weight from one foot to the other. “Kind of, but not in a creepy way. I saw what happened earlier, and I thought you could use a ride.”
She’d seen him get arrested, and what? Sat, parked across the street from the police station for hours, waiting for him to emerge, just so she could offer him a ride? Nobody did that, not without a damn good reason. He had too much on his mind to try to figure out possible ulterior motives.
“Thanks, but I don’t.”
She huffed. It was cute. He added it to his list of things that irritated him.
“Don’t be obstinate,” she said. “Just get in the fucking car, okay?”
Hearing the expletive simultaneously made him smile and turned him on. He had a thing for foul words spoken from sweet lips. Made him wonder what other dirty things her mouth could do.
Nope, not going there.
“Why?” he asked, forcing his ill-advised interest into something he was more comfortable with—namely, suspicion. In his experience, people were rarely altruistic for altruism’s sake.
She rolled her eyes and exhaled. Once again, his mind went places it shouldn’t, conjuring images ofputting her over his knee, pulling down her pants, and smacking her shapely dancer’s ass. He wondered what she would do if he did. Had fantasized about it often in fact. In his private mental viewing room, she liked it a little rough and dirty.
Jesus.
“Whynot?” she countered, exasperation lacing her tone.
When he said nothing, she raised her hands. “Fine. Be that way. Walk five miles. See if I care. Forgive me for trying to do something nice.”
She stalked back to her car. Her hips swayed from side to side, looking phenomenal in those faded blue jeans, drawing his eye and pulling him along for the ride. Before he realized what he was doing, he was standing next to her vehicle. She glanced at him with a raised brow.
He shouldn’t. He really shouldn’t. He should turn around, walk away, and let her think he was an ungrateful ass. Most people did—if they bothered to think of him at all. But, damn, he was tired. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten a decent night’s sleep.
“I’m sorry,” he said, stuffing his hands into his jeans. “If the offer’s still open, a ride would be great, thanks.”
Her face softened, and she nodded. No smart-ass comeback. No taunt. No smirk as she tossed a high-end women’s sports bag and a box of tissues from the passenger seat into the back and made room for him.
He opened the door and folded his body in, glad that the seat was already pushed back so his knees weren’t up around his chest. For a moment, he wondered what long-legged fucker had sat in the seat before him. As far as he knew, she wasn’t seeing anyone. There was that guy with the Audi about a year ago, but she’d kicked him to the curb pretty quick. Good thing too. The guy was one of the suits at Dumas Industries. A real player in his white-collar, hedge-fund world.
Not that Nick had been creeping on her or anything, but garages were like bars. Guys talked, and he’d learned the value of listening a long time ago.
Maybe there was someone new he hadn’t heard about yet. Her sister was forever trying to fix her up with one tool or another.
Nick pushed back the wave of something dark and jagged that accompanied the thought. Who Corinne McCain went out with, fucked, or gave a ride to was of no concern to him.
He concentrated on the surrounding space instead. The interior was neat and clean, but not spotless. A tiny crystal angel hung from the rearview mirror. A stack of hair ties was wrapped around the gear shift. A massive stainless steel travel mug sat in the console cupholder. The space smelled like her. Fresh with a subtle hint of floral. Dryer sheets maybe.
The car made a sound of protest when she put it into gear. He winced. As a mechanic, he knew it wasn’t good. He leaned toward the center of the car, frowning when he caught sight of the Check Engine light glowing.
“Your Check Engine light is on,” he said.
She checked her mirrors and pulled away from the curb. “I’m aware.”
“Have you had it looked at?”
“Not yet.”
“You should.”
“I will.”
“Do it sooner rather than later.”
