Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 89012 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89012 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
“Game on,” Banks says.
“Go grab those selfies you took last week,” I say as I head for the door. “I hear you got some good shots with Tasha.”
I grin as I listen to Jess ask, “Why was Tasha taking your picture?”
The door slams behind me.
NINE
Ashley
“Hey, how are ya, Charlie?” I smile at the man across the counter. “The pump on three isn’t taking my card. Can I pay in here?”
“Sure thing. Where have you been hiding?”
“Orlando. But I’m back now so no worries. I’ll be in to torment you on the regular.”
“I’m glad to hear it. The town isn’t the same without you.” He grins. “How much gas are ya putting in there, kiddo?”
“Give me seventy-five dollars’ worth. I need to fill it up so I don’t have to worry about gas on the way to the airport.”
He punches numbers into the register. “If it doesn’t take that much, it’ll just go back on your card. You don’t even have to come in here.”
I slide my card, sign the screen, and take my receipt. “Thanks, Charlie.”
“Take care, Miss Ashley.”
I push open the door and step out into the heat. Sweat dots my skin as I make my way back to my vehicle. Slowly, my pace stalls.
I see him well before he sees me.
Maddox is parked on the other side of the row of gas pumps. He’s busy filling his Jeep and unaware that I’m ogling him.
And ogle him I do.
It’s no wonder that the man doesn’t want to settle down. His phone must ring off the damn hook.
His pants, a light color that might be gray, cling to his thighs. A black short-sleeved button-up highlights his biceps. The last button is undone, giving me a peek of a white tee underneath.
Tease me, asshole.
I begin walking again. The movement must catch his eye because I’m no more than three steps when his eyes flip to mine.
A slow, sinful smile slips across his cheeks.
Despite the scorching Florida sun, my body heats even more.
By the time I reach my car, he’s headed that way too. He takes the nozzle off the pump.
“Hey,” I say.
“Hey.”
The word is low, quiet, loud enough for only me to hear. It sounds like a secret, like a promise between the two of us.
Maybe I should trade pics with him because damn.
“This pump never works. Did you have to pay inside?” he asks.
I nod.
He smiles and sticks the nozzle into my car. Oh, the puns that could be made.
“Did you do some shopping today?” he asks.
Huh? My brain is still back on the sticking the nozzle into the hole thing.
He reads my expression. “Bags. You have shopping bags in the back seat.”
Oh. “Yeah. I needed to pick up a few things. I left most of my stuff in storage like a fool.”
I unlock the door and find my purse. Replacing my wallet gives me enough time to get my bearings.
My body tingles and I’m not sure if it’s because Maddox is so close, and smelling so divine, or if it’s because I’m keyed up from the contest and the trip.
The contest? I snort. I still can’t believe I’m doing this.
“Anything specific?” he asks.
I lean against the door, confusion written on my face. “Anything specific what?”
“Did you need to pick up things for a specific reason?” he asks.
“Not really. Just some … things.” For my honeymoon hookup that we aren’t talking about. “What about you? Are you out doing anything specific today?”
He grins cheekily. “I’m filling you up.”
I roll my tongue around my mouth. “Well, thank you for doing that. It’s been a while since someone filled me up. I was starting to forget what it felt like.”
This is what spending time with Sara produces.
He laughs. “I’ll fill you up any time you need it.”
I laugh too. “Seriously, thanks for doing this. I hate pumping gas. I hate getting the oil or grease or whatever on my hands and then having to smell it all day because it doesn’t wash off.”
“Must be hard adjusting to single life again.”
“Are you kidding me? I don’t think anyone has ever pumped my gas in my life.”
He lowers his chin. “For real?”
“Yup. You’re getting my filling me up cherry.”
He lifts a brow but doesn’t say anything. Is he pissed off? Amused? I don’t know.
The pump stops. Maddox replaces the nozzle and then screws the cap back tightly.
A gentle breeze ripples through the parking lot, carrying with it pieces of sand from the empty lot next door. Maddox steps in front of me, effectively blocking me from getting pelted by a thousand small pieces of dirt.
I smile at him. “You are quite the gentleman when you want to be.”
“I have all kinds of tricks up my sleeve.”
“You should make sure that you’re wearing sleeves longer than this when you say that,” I say, tugging on the sleeve of his shirt. “It would be more impressive.”