Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 35291 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 176(@200wpm)___ 141(@250wpm)___ 118(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35291 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 176(@200wpm)___ 141(@250wpm)___ 118(@300wpm)
She clearly knows jack shit about electric vehicles. And it’s not like it’s a full-on lie. If I needed to get parts, that could take a couple of weeks. I’m just leaving out the part where I don’t need them.
She stumbles again. I'm moving before my brain catches up, then I stop dead, my fingers clenching into fists. Not again. I touched her and didn't want to fucking stop. I can’t take that risk.
She catches herself.
Christ. I need to get it together.
The office door swings open and out comes my brother Cade with a fresh cup of coffee from my personal stash. He takes one look at Tessa, then me, and his eyebrows climb toward his hairline.
"Well, well." He grins. "What do we have here?"
"Customer," I grunt. "Fried her EV in the wash."
Cade's eyes flick between us, reading things I don't want him to see. "Customer. Right," he drawls, leaning against the back of his truck and taking a sip of the steaming coffee. "Need my help with anything?"
I fight the urge to smack the smirk off his face.
"Nope." I snap my tongue behind my teeth.
"You sure? Because you look like you need some help—"
"I said nope. And buy your own fucking coffee."
He frowns. “I like yours. You know I’m too cheap to get the good stuff. Three-hundred-dollar organic Geisha special—”
“Es-spec-ial,” I enunciate each syllable, “dumb-ass. What do you want, besides coming here to steal my coffee?”
Tessa's watching us, confusion written all over her face.
My cock throbs against my zipper. She called me "sir" a few minutes ago, and I came in my jeans like a fucking teenager. I’m pretty sure my brother senses my shame.
Cade shrugs. "Nope, just the coffee.” He lands his smug eyes on Tessa. “See you Sunday." He tips an imaginary hat her way. "Ma'am."
She gives him a polite but confused smile. "Nice to meet you."
My fists clench. She shouldn't be smiling at him. Those smiles should be for me alone.
When his truck disappears down the road, I open the door to mine and give her a nod. "In."
“Wait, I thought we were coming here to get the tow truck set up?”
“I’ll do that. You get in my truck, we’re going to get your stuff out of your car.”
"I can just walk back to my car and—"
"I said, get in, little girl."
Her pupils dilate. Lips part. I catch a savory scent on the wind that makes a growl build in my throat.
I want to mate her like a fucking dog. I swear, a knot is swelling in my dick.
I'm reconsidering having her sit next to me.
Except not having her next to me for the next few minutes would turn me into the kind of monster I'm pretty sure I already am.
She doesn't argue. She climbs into the truck, and I reach in to fasten her seat belt. Might only be a hundred yards, but I'm not taking chances. I climb behind the wheel and drive us back to her Tesla. When I've helped her out, I nod at the overpriced car. "Pop the trunk."
"Why? I’m so confused."
"You're staying up at my place. I assume you have stuff you need."
"What? I'm… No." She shakes her head. "The hotel can't be fully booked. There must be somewhere. I can't stay with you."
"You can. Pop the trunk, or I'll use my crowbar. Your choice."
"This is…" She moves to the back of the car, heels clicking, those ridiculous green boots nearly making me smile. "This is ridiculous. I don't know you."
“My name is Beau Boone. I grew up in Wildfire. You can ask anyone that passes by about me. I have three asshole brothers. You just met one of them, his name’s Cade. I’ve owned this garage for twenty years, my brothers and I chased my father off when I was twenty-one for raising a hand to my mother. We took care of her from then on until she died five years ago. I have three sisters-in-law as well that will vouch for me. You want me to call them? Trust me, they’d ball it over here to meet you and see why I’m asking for a character reference for a gorgeous girl—”
“Okay.” She squeezes her eyes shut, throwing her hands up in surrender. “No need to pull out the sister-in-law card.”
When she reaches in her back pocket and pulls out the key fob and hits the button, the trunk pops and I groan a string of curse words.
Her trunk practically vomits out brown and gold expensive-looking suitcases.
"Fuck me." I cock a brow. “Did you say you were moving here?”
That thought spins heat down into my DNA. Why is she here in fucking Wildfire, Michigan, anyway?
I assumed some content creation opportunity, but why here? And why thirty-fucking-thousand suitcases?
"I need everything," she says defensively.
She’s running.
It’s the only thing that makes sense. The new hair, the fake name. She got canceled by the very world that propped her up since she was in a training bra. She's been hurt. Judged.