Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 32995 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 165(@200wpm)___ 132(@250wpm)___ 110(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 32995 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 165(@200wpm)___ 132(@250wpm)___ 110(@300wpm)
And my jaw threatens to drop at the sight of the man before me.
He’s gorgeous. Well into his thirties, he’s the kind of handsome that I can imagine talk shows comparing to ‘aging like fine wine’. His eyes, little laugh lines shading the corners, teeter somewhere between the dreamy blue of endless, brilliant sky, and a cool, mysterious gray that threatens thunder.
Paired with tanned skin from hours and hours in the sun, beach-blonde hair that hangs in careless, natural waves, and a jawline sharp enough to draw blood… The man is a bombshell.
And I hit this bombshell’s billion-dollar car. Or however much those things cost.
It only works to make me more nervous. I’m not used to being around people like him. Handsome, rich, fit, and sophisticated. “I-I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insult your parking, honestly. I would probably park like that too if I looked like you and had that kind of money. I mean…not that being good looking and rich makes you a douche. I didn’t just say that. You’re not a douche. I assume. It’s just that little things like parking don’t mean much at that point, right? Like, your life is too important for taking the time to make sure you’re not parked like a lunatic. I’m sure you have better things to think about than the logistics of the parking lot around you.”
I take a long breath, but of course that’s not the end of my absolute word vomit. I barely pause for a breath before I unleash, “Whereas my hunk of junk, as worthless as it is, is a lifeline to my business, so even this I park with precision. You know? Which I know must be ridiculous to hear, since I just totaled your fifty-trillion dollar luxury sports car…” I meet his eyes, and gulp. I shouldn’t look in those eyes. I could forget who I am in there. “I’m rambling. I think I’m rambling so that you don’t get mad? Please don’t get mad? Can we work something out between us?”
He smirks at that, and my panties are ruined. That smirk. It should be illegal.
“Not like that. Not like ‘oh no, I ordered this pizza and have no way to pay for it, wink wink’. Just in the ‘I hit a parked luxury car and now it’s going to financially ruin me with the insurance premiums’ kind of way?”
I have to consciously suck in another breath, and try not to launch into another tirade. I’m shooting him my most apologetic smile, no longer even sure if I’m sorrier for hitting his car or the absolute nonsense that I’ve just spewed all over him.
Well, I’m mostly sorry for myself and how much money this is going to cost me.
He's not staring at me and judging, but his smirk has turned into a genuine smile. It’s a slight smile, but it’s there on his lips. The man then clears his throat and looks all around. “Let’s get this moved out of the way of traffic and then go inside for a drink. You are a…” He clears his throat, and I’m sure he was about to say something else, but he finishes with, “You’re a bit shaken up and really shouldn’t be driving in this condition.”
The words literally sound foreign to my ears, that’s how unexpected they are. It takes me a long moment to even process what he’s said. “I… I just hit your car and you’re asking me to have a drink with you?”
His head tilts side to side. “No. I’m not asking. I’m telling. I will not accept no for an answer.” He peers behind the truck. “Looks like you should have enough room now. Pull through and park on the curb.”
“I was told—”
“Trust me.”
Trust him.
I’ve only just met him but… I do trust him. I’d follow him into the jaws of hell right now if he told me it would be all right. There’s just something about him that demands I do as he says, that he’ll keep me safe and make sure no harm comes to me.
I nod, and see the smile widen.
“Good girl. There should be enough room for others to get by. I’ll walk along to make sure it goes smoothly.”
Good girl. I should be insulted but…all I want is to make him pleased with me.
I could just nod and take the opportunity to peel out of the parking lot, make my get away into the night and assume a new identity in a new state. However, instead I fold like a lawn chair.
I start the truck as he steps back, guiding me into finishing the act of backing up, and then paces alongside the truck as I make it to the curb of the lane that leads to the exit.
As I put the keys in my pocket and glance at him one more time through the window, I can’t help but wonder what the hell I’ve gotten myself into.