Blitz: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romantic Comedy (Blast Brothers Book 3), стр. 23
But Chase wasn't laughing. He didn't even crack a smile. "Yeah?" he said. "And why's that?"
"Because…" She tried for another laugh. "We'll be getting the hammer."
Oh, please. She didn't want to get a hammer. She wanted to be hammered.
By his cock.
I bit my lip. But what did he want?
I held my breath and waited.
Her hand was still on his forearm. I was still on the car. The nuts were still on the pavement. And Chase? Well, he was still a sight to behold, even as he looked down and gave Emory's hand a long, cold look.
As he did, I swear, I felt the temperature drop ten degrees.
Emory's smile faded, and she released his arm, looking more awkward than I felt. And that was truly saying something.
She had barely let go when Chase looked to me and said, "Forget the hammer. What you need is a ride."
Chapter 21
Chase
Thirty minutes ago, Mina had looked ridiculous, but cute as hell, atop the roof of her old Chevy Malibu. She looked even better now, sitting in the passenger's seat of my newest vehicle, a bright orange Ferrari.
The vehicle was low and fast, thanks to its twin turbo-charged V8 and over 700 horses under the hood.
Even so, I was driving barely above the speed limit. Already, we'd left downtown and had just turned onto M-13, the four-lane country road heading out toward Hazelton.
We'd spent some of the last thirty minutes walking back to my building and retrieving my keys from my desk before heading down to the underground parking garage and getting into my car.
During the walk, Mina had been strangely quiet for someone looking to sell her ideas. Instead of using the unscheduled time to make another pitch for the sponsorship, she'd said very little, except to claim that she didn't need a ride at all.
Bullshit.
I knew desperation when I saw it. It was the reason I was driving at a sensible speed.
No need to poke the crazy, right?
And yet, I couldn’t resist saying, "So, the blue Malibu – was that your car or…" Deliberately, I left the question unfinished, leaving Mina to fill in the blanks.
She gave me a wary glance. "Or what? Somebody else's?'
I smiled. "It's just a question." At this, she looked so disgruntled that I couldn't resist another tweak. "Don't worry. I'm not gonna report you."
She tried for a laugh. "What, you think I go around trying to break into other people's cars?"
No. I didn't.
She might be crazy, but she wasn't that kind of crazy. She was the kind of crazy that popped out when you weren't expecting it, like when you happened to look out your office window, only to see a chick in a dress straddling the roof of an old Chevy.
Still, I shrugged behind the wheel. "Hey, you never know."
"Oh, please. Even if I were trying to break into someone's car – which I'd never do, by the way – I'd hardly do it with an audience."
I'd seen the audience with my own two eyes – the brunette in the yoga pants. She'd looked good, and she'd known it. Obviously, she'd had more than her share of male attention.
Not from me.
She had roaming eyes and a hard mouth. I hadn't liked her.
I'd left her standing on her own as I'd offered Mina a helping hand to climb off the car. And then, I'd picked up Mina's things.
As for the brunette, we'd left her standing on the sidewalk with her fallen nuts. For all I knew, she was still there.
Or not.
I didn't know, and I didn't care.
To Mina, I said, "So, you do that a lot?"
With a weak laugh, she replied, "What, 'hump' my car?"
At the word hump, something stirred in my pants. The word was pure vanilla with nearly no spice. It wasn't even X-rated. And yet, from Mina's lips, it was getting more attention than it deserved.
Mina had a nice voice, sweet and sexy, even more so because unlike Yoga Pants, she wasn't trying to be. And for my part, well, let's just say I hadn't been getting the action I was used to.
Sure, the change-up was my own decision – a long-overdue hiatus to clear my head.
It was a good call. But my other head – meaning the one in my pants – was having a hard time seeing it the same.
As far as the car-humping, it hadn't looked that way to me – which meant that Yoga Pants was either crazier than Mina, or had said it to make Mina's shitty situation just a little shittier.
Back in high school, my own car had been older than Mina's, and I was no stranger to being stranded.
And like Mina, I didn't stand around bitching about it either. I just did what needed doing – changing a tire, jump-starting the battery, or hell, even hitching a ride if it came that.
Mina might be crazy, but she was no slacker – and no complainer either. In my book, that earned her a lot of points, even if she was on the crazy side.
I said, "So, with the car, what happened?"
"Nothing, really. I just locked my keys inside. That's all."
"And you don't have a spare?"
"Sure, but not on me."
Obviously. "And no one to bring you one?"
If true, this was a surprise. The way Mina had talked during her presentation, I'd gotten the impression she had plenty of people she could call in a pinch. Friends, family, whoever.
Apparently not.
What was that about?
She replied, "Sure, there's people I could've called."
"But you didn't. Why?"
She hesitated. "I'd better not say."
Now that was unexpected. Normally, women jumped to answer whatever I asked – and do whatever I asked, too.
Hell, most of the time, I didn't have to ask.
I gave Mina another glance. Was she being coy? I didn't think so.
Now I was more curious. But I wasn't