Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 120513 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 603(@200wpm)___ 482(@250wpm)___ 402(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120513 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 603(@200wpm)___ 482(@250wpm)___ 402(@300wpm)
“Like the Partridge Family?” Dutch asked.
“They didn’t live in their bus.”
“Oh yeah. I woulda done the mom.”
“Why don’t that surprise me?”
“Total fuckin’ MILF.” Dutch pursed his lips and stroked his long, bushy beard. He didn’t hide his obvious interest as he raked his eyes over Syn from top to toe.
Dodge cleared his throat sharply and Dutch twisted his head back to him with a huge grin and a sparkle in his eye.
Fucker.
The old man moved to the bay door behind Dodge and glanced out into the lot from one of the small windows. “Certainly is a fuckin’ bus.”
“Yeah, thanks, Captain Obvious,” Dodge said dryly.
Dutch shrugged. “We ain’t diesel mechanics. That piece of shit probably got a Cummins in it. We don’t work on those things. None of us do. Gotta find yourself a bus mechanic, an RV dealer, or someone who knows those types of engines.”
“Ain’t the engine. They don’t got heat.” Or apparently air conditioning but getting them heat was the first step.
Dutch scratched the back of his neck. “Sounds like a fuckin’ problem. But one I can’t solve.” His eyes flicked back to Syn as she took a few steps closer to them.
She had pushed down her hood and now her long, dark brown hair spilled free around her shoulders.
Dodge waited for her to say something but she didn’t. However, he couldn’t miss the disappointment on her face, even though she was trying to mask it. She was failing.
Jesus fuck. “Know someone who can without havin’ to take out a fuckin’ mortgage?”
Dutch pulled thoughtfully at his beard while his eyes rolled toward the ceiling. When he finally dropped his gaze back to Dodge, he grunted, “Nope.”
Dodge shook his head. “Ain’t an engine problem, anyway. It has to do with the heating system.”
Dutch raised a salt-and-pepper bushy eyebrow. “You know somethin’ about buses?”
“Nope.”
“Then shut the fuck up.”
“Whatever, old man, just tryin’ to help.”
“Help who? You or me?”
He jerked his head toward Syn. “Them. They’re in a tight spot.”
Dutch yanked on his beard again and glanced over at Syn. “Her, you mean. Tryin’ to wedge your dick down those tight skinny jeans of hers. With your pencil dick, it just might fit.”
“You know she can hear you, right?”
“Yep. And so can you.” He bobbled his head and said, “I said what I said.”
He said what he said? “Christ, you need to stop baggin’ youngins. They’re rubbin’ off on you.”
Dutch lifted one eyebrow toward Syn. “Shouldn’t be throwin’ rocks right now.”
“You mean stones.”
“You got what I meant.”
Dodge sighed. “Can you at least go out and look at their heater? Maybe there’s somethin’ you or one of your crew can do.”
“You gonna make me go out in the cold?”
“Since when did a tough old fuck like you turn into a pussy?” Dodge asked, knowing Dutch wouldn’t like it.
The old man grumbled and pushed past Syn, slamming the door behind him.
Dodge’s gaze bounced from the door to Syn and he shot her a smile.
Her dark eyes went wide, she blinked, then he could see her mentally shake herself.
Well, fuck. Was it because he smiled at her?
No.
Was it?
“Should I go out with him?” she asked.
“Nope. You got three adult men out there who can show him the issue. Stay in here where it’s warm.” He moved closer. “Want coffee?”
She nodded. He tipped his head toward the break room behind the office. “Back there.”
As he moved past the office door, he peeked his head in. “Hey, Lee.”
Reilly lifted her head from whatever she was looking at on the computer and pulled out one of her earbuds. “Hey, Dodge! What are you doing here? I didn’t hear you out there.”
“Probably ‘cause you’re jammin’ out.”
She shook her head. “Podcast.”
“About?”
She only smiled.
Dodge shook his head. “Don’t wanna know.” He tapped the door jamb twice with his palm, then kept moving. Syn was right behind him. He didn’t even have to look to know. He felt her there.
Like they were connected somehow.
The whole thing with her was fucked. He didn’t understand it and wasn’t sure he wanted to.
He just knew whatever it was, wasn’t on his life’s agenda.
He stepped into the tiny break room and over to the coffeemaker. Thank fuck Reilly must have made a fresh pot of caffeinated fuel. He filled two disposable cups and held one out to Syn. “Black?”
“Got used to black.”
Of course she did. Coffee was expensive even without all the extras. “Lee keeps the creamer and sugar stocked. Help yourself.”
Syn stepped up next to him and began to doctor her coffee. He pressed one hand against his outer thigh and curled the fingers of his other hand tighter around his cup to keep from reaching out.
From making a physical connection.
She was so goddamn close.
A second later, his mouth gaped open a little when she dumped about a pound of sugar into the cup, took a few sips to make more room, then poured in a bunch of French vanilla creamer, filling it to the brim.