“Hannah Walsh, get out of the back of my truck and into the front seat before you freeze to death. Now.”
I stand up and walk by her without looking back.
Chapter Eight
Hannah
My getaway driver sure is bossy.
He’s also hot AF.
I knew he was handsome when I first laid eyes on him. But up close like this, he’s even more attractive. From those soulful, dark brown eyes to the confident way he carries himself, I have to drag my gaze away to keep from staring.
And from the back? Holy Jesus—his ass is so bitable butterflies turn over in my belly as he exits the truck bed. He’s all pissed off and authoritative, and I’m turned on.
I don’t get turned on. Not this Hannah Walsh, who’s been dating the same guy for years. Craig and I were lukewarm sexually. Okay, maybe less than lukewarm.
So I’m pleasantly surprised to feel my body wake up after the interaction I just had with Maverick Court.
I scramble out of the truck bed and walk around the truck until I reach the passenger door. I find the door unlocked, and I climb inside, shutting the door behind me. I pull Maverick’s flannel tighter around my shoulders, trying not to openly shiver from the cold. Iamfreezing.
I glance around the cab of the truck. My eyes light on the bobblehead doll sitting on the dashboard.
I lean in to look more closely.Brady.
I’m not a big sports fan, but even I know who Tom Brady is. And the funny thing is that my ex is a Pittsburgh fan, so he automatically hated Tom Brady for his success.
This bobblehead doll must be a good omen.
A few minutes later, Maverick opens the driver’s side door and pokes his head in.
“I saw your doll.” I smile at him. “Is he your favorite player?”
He grimaces. “My friend gave that to me. It’s what’s called an unwelcome gift.”
I hide my smile. My driver definitely doesn’t like to be told what to do, and apparently that includes his truck decor.
“Well, I think your friend has good taste,” I say.
Maverick glances over at the Brady doll and then back to me. “You like football?” he says in a tone that nearly sounds curious.
“Not particularly. But I…” I realize how ridiculous my bobblehead theory will sound to a stranger, so I bite my lip. “Never mind.”
A beat of silence while Maverick assesses me. His eyes soften a touch, and he jerks his head toward the convenience store. “You want a coffee?”
I reach into my purse. “Yes, please.”
He puts out a hand to stop me from riffling through my bag.
“I’ve got this. Be right back.”
“But…”
He’s already gone.
Like I said…Bossy.
AF.
