Car Wash (Scorching Hot Summer #4)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Sarah

“Eyes up here, ladies!” Lacy, our sorority chapter president says, climbing onto a stack of old milk crates.

There are hollers and cheers around me as the excitement sets in.

It’s the sorority’s tenth annual charity carwash, and the sun’s already turning the parking lot into a griddle. It’s a hot August day, and we’ve got all of the buckets and hoses ready to go. The forecast says mid-nineties by lunch, and I’m already sweating.

“Listen up!” Lacy yells through a megaphone someone probably borrowed from the drama department.

“A few things we need to go over. First of all, nothing indecent. This is not a titty bar. That means no dollar bills tucked into anything, no touching, no groping, no grabbing, none of it. You don’t get onto the hood of any cars and smoosh your boobs against the windshield. ”

“So we can smoosh our boobs against the other windows?” my roommate Allison murmurs beside me.

I stifle a laugh and shake my head as Lacy rolls her eyes. “As a blanket statement, don’t do anything you wouldn’t do in front of your grandmother.”

A few groans ripple through the crowd.

“I mean it,” Lacy adds, scanning the group like a hawk. “We’re here to raise money to spruce up our house, not for bail.”

That gets a cheer. Our sorority house is cluttered, creaking, and in need of some major TLC.

It’s an aesthetic disaster zone, a Pinterest board nightmare of mismatched drapes and competing posters in the hallway.

One says, "Take a ride on the wild side," while the other says, "Keep your arms and legs inside the ride at all times.” I mean, which is it? Pick a lane.

“And with that,” Allison says, nudging me as she puts a bucket of water into my hands, “we’re one step closer to that reading nook you can’t stop talking about.”

Before I can reply, the soft rumble of an engine slices through the air behind us.

Lacy gasps and practically leaps off the milk crates, shoving the megaphone into someone’s arms.

“Looks like our first customer is here!”

I turn around to see a car turning into the parking lot.

“Whoa,” Allison says, sliding her sunglasses down her nose and peering over the top of them.

“Oh fuck,” one of the other girls whispers.

Somewhere in the background, as if the world has a sense of humor, “Back In Black” starts playing.

The car rolls into the lot in slow motion, the paint job basted in the hot morning sun, the driver hidden behind tinted windows until he kills the engine and pushes open the door.

Boot first, hitting the pavement like he has a grudge against it. Then a hand, strong and wide, fingers wrapping around the hot metal frame.

Then he stands.

And everything in me just…freezes.

John. My dad’s best friend.

I knew there was a possibility he’d show up today, but not like this.

Not stepping out of a car like this — all-black, low to the ground, with a matte finish that drinks in the light instead of reflecting it.

It’s all clean lines that are muscular and smooth, sleek in a way that feels almost secretive.

The whole thing seems primed to pounce, like a panther — dangerous, controlled.

And certainly not with broad shoulders filling out a crisp button-down, the sleeves rolled to his forearms in a way that feels unfair.

Not with eyes that send heat straight between my legs.

I feel like someone cracked an egg on my chest and let it drip all the way down.

I grip the sponge in my hand tighter, pretending not to notice the flutter in my stomach or the way my thighs suddenly press together. I can feel every single bead of sweat trickle down the side of my neck, but it’s not from the sun anymore.

As I look around, I can already see the spell he’s casting. I can already see everyone around me losing their damn minds.

The sorority sisters are practically falling all over themselves for a chance to wash this man’s car.

This is the guy who used to come over for Sunday dinner. The guy who would talk to my dad about efficiency-this and battery-storage-that, all of the techy stuff they studied in college together.

John was already knee-deep in clean energy way before the rest of the world cared about paper versus plastic straws.

He worked on early tech that helped pave the way for energy-efficient vehicles.

I didn’t understand half of what they were talking about—biofuels, patents, something about grid integration—but I didn’t care.

Eventually, John moved to California, because that’s where all the real tech stuff happens. It’s like being a fisherman in New England or a card counter in Vegas. You go where the action is.

But now…now he’s here.

And holy hell.

Allison lets out an airy breath and shoves a soapy bucket of water into my hands before slinking toward him with her hips swinging.

I suck in a sharp breath when he glances over at me. My mouth goes dry. His eyes scan me up and down, touching me everywhere with just a gentle look. But it isn’t gentle for long.

There’s a moment, a split-second, where his eyes seem to take on a hint of darkness. It’s this strange, intense, possessive look that makes my skin skitter and sends a thrill up my spine. I shiver under his gaze, my stomach flipping over and over.

He is the hottest man I’ve ever seen. I didn’t see it before — but now I do.

I’m snapped back to reality when Cassie stops and turns around, grabbing my hand and pulling me behind her.

“What’s the matter?” she says, waving a hand in front of me. “Earth to Sarah. You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Not a ghost,” I say. “More of a blast from the past.”

“Hold on.” She stops dead in her tracks and grabs my arm. “You know this guy? How do you know him? Shut up. Tell me everything.”

I swallow thickly as Cassie and I get left in the dust of the other girls. She has a look on her face that says hurry the fuck up.

“That right there is my dad’s best friend.”

She gasps, looks over her shoulder, and then turns back to me.

“No.”

“Yeah.” I swallow thickly. “That’s him.”

“Come on,” she says with a mischievous glint in her eyes, grabbing my hand. “I have a feeling we are about to make a ton of money.”

“What do you mean?” I say as my heart flips.

“Did you happen to miss the collective fever dream going on around you? This guy is hot. We’re hot. And I have no doubt that we can get this guy to empty his wallet for us.”

“I don’t know…” I say, wondering if he’s looking at me.

She winks.

“Come with me and we’ll find out.”

She tugs me along with her, the blinding heat of my dad’s best friend bearing down on me, hot and heavy.

Now I really wish we’d voted to make this thing a bake sale instead of a car wash.