Chapter 2
Chapter Two
What a freaking day. The shock is wearing off and I’m not happy. Stomping mad, I steam my way down Main Street. Of all things…a damned bank robbery right when I was supposed to be finding out about my loan. I’m so pissed, there’s probably a thunder cloud over my head.
When I see my truck, I remember my other problem… “You better not let me down right now, Gingersnap.”
When I halt next to my driver’s side door, a wall of muscle slams into my back, knocking me forward, scaring a scream out of me. Eeep!
I don’t even have to look to know who it is. He smells good. And I happen to be wearing his mark all over me.
After catching my breath from screaming, I tear into him. “Can you not see?”
His voice stirs the hair next to my ear. “I can see fine. You didn’t give any cues that you were stopping.”
Grrr. “Am I supposed to throw hand signals or something?’
His lips twitch but his eyes are hidden by the shadow from his black baseball cap. “That could work.”
I shake my head, frowning at his reflection in the side window. He’s lucky I don’t throw an elbow. Or hit him with my purse again.
When he steps to the side he’s wearing an expression that makes me think I’ve offended him.
“Don’t even look at me like that. I didn’t know you were a good guy. I still don’t.”
One corner of his mouth tucks in and I get hit by a lightning bolt. That grin, oh my god, he’s hot. Commanding slate-colored eyes, scruff on his jaw, strongly built and a devil-may-care grin.
Kill me now.
I must have really been in a fit earlier not to realize the volume of his sexiness. Now, I know. And alarm bells start blaring in my head as I reach for the door handle.
His voice is even hot. “Who’s Gingersnap?”
Great. He heard me talking to myself. Well technically not just myself. My car too.
“No one.”
When my hand slips off the handle because I’m a mess, he reaches around me and tugs on it, swinging the creaky door open for me.
As he looks at me expectantly, his grin deepens. “You gave your car a name, didn't you?”
I snap my neck back affronted. “You say that like it’s weird.”
“Not weird. I don’t do it. If I did, I guess I’d pick something like Thor, but I think it’s cute you named your truck Gingersnap.”
I throw my purse on the passenger seat where it makes a loud clang. Without looking at his hotness—because my retinas are already screaming— I climb into the truck, making sure not to rip the torn upholstery even more than it is.
I’m muttering to myself about needing to remember to buy a seat cover when he says something and reminds me he’s still standing there.
“This is a great ride by the way. I love these old Toyotas.”
“Are you making small talk right now?”
His head tilts, his eyes fill with humor. “I don’t know. I’ve never been a small talker.”
I blink slowly and make an unhappy sound in my throat. He is gigantic. If his height is what he means. Not that I care about the size of that either. I’m not attracted to him.
The devil on my shoulder laughs. Hysterically.
With my frustration making beads of sweat tickle between my breasts, I lift my chin.
“What you are is infuriating.” I try to tug my door out of his hold. “I need to get going.”
No movement. Only penetration from his cool gray eyes.
I almost smack my forehead.
Penetration?
God. I need to get out of here. At least I didn’t say the p-word out loud. That would have been truly mortifying.
But he’s in no hurry to move on. Nope, he’s looking at me with something between curiosity and frustration behind his gaze.
“Excuse me. I want to close my door, since I’ve already hit you in the head today?—”
“And punched me in the gut.”
I grimace. Um. He’s right.
My hand twitches at the memory of touching his defined abs through his shirt. Gulp.
“Well, what can I say? I’m a woman of action. So, if you want your jewels to remain in place since those are the only things I can reach from here, you might want to get out of the way.”
He glances away, pressing his lips tight, but there’s a short rumble of laughter in his chest.
“Looks like I might have pissed the wrong woman off.”
Yep. And I’m quickly losing patience with this totally unnecessary conversation. I try to give him a withering glare. “Look, Mister, I’ve got a business and a lot of work to do.”
He ducks his chin slightly, the humor disappearing from his expression. “Right. Sorry. I’ve got…some sightseeing to do. It’s been a pleasure.”
Maybe I make a tiny eye roll. His proximity is warping my brain. “A pleasure? Ha. Hardly. I’ve had a crap day and it’s not even ten. Now I’ve got to go, some of us are not on vacation.”
As he moves back, all those crazy muscles in his arms flex and twist and catch the light, momentarily dazing me.
What was I doing?
Key. Right. That’s the first thing.
Firing on half my cylinders, I have to talk myself through the steps to drive.
Press the Clutch. Start the truck. Shift gears. Release clutch, apply gas.
I don’t know who the man is, but I’m just glad he’s not going to be around Karma long.
I can’t afford a distraction that looks like he does, talks in a voice that rivals dark chocolate, and smells like a lonely girl’s ruin.
When I pull away, I refuse to let myself look in the mirror.