“I’m not looking for anything. What man would want to sign up for a woman like me?”
I regretted it the second I said it. Because the way his head snapped toward me, the way his jaw clenched and his eyes darkened—
“A woman like you?” I started when he moved closer.
“Yeah. The too much type. I’ve got too many responsibilities. And you’ve got eyes in your head. I’m curvy.”
“You’re too damn young. Twelve years, Keely. I’ve got years on you and every one of them left a mark. That’s what’s wrong.”
But his eyes weren’t on my face when he said it. They were doing a slow, controlled drag down my body and back up that said the age gap wasn’t the only thing he was fighting.
My body softened. This wasn’t just attraction. This was something deeper. Something I didn’t understand.
I had not only never had sex with a man before and I’d never done this. This type of dance with one either. And he was so much older. So much more certain of everything. He didn’t fidget or second-guess or fill silence with noise the way guys my age did. He stood there, steady and immovable, and waited for the world to come to him. I found that unbearably attractive and deeply unfair. I didn’t know if we were flirting or exchanging demographics.
“What does that mean?” I finally had the courage to ask. I was aware of every inch of him. The way his chest rose and fell. The way his fingers flexed at his sides. The way his jaw ticked, like he was holding something back.
“Everything. It means everything.” For a moment, I thought he might kiss me. I thought I might let him. I thought—
He reached around me and opened my door. My breath caught. His arm brushed mine, and I felt his touch all over.
“Get inside.” He looked like he was ready to pull the car door from its hinges, so I did what he said. He stood there for a second before heading to his big black truck parked a few spaces down.
I put the key in the ignition and cranked the engine. I was still so caught up in my reaction to Griffin that it took me a minute to realize something wasn’t right.
I pumped the gas pedal twice and turned the key again.
Nothing. Just a click-click sound that I knew meant trouble. And in my life, trouble equated to money. I leaned my head against the steering wheel and gave a small groan that came out more of a whimper. “No. No. Not tonight.”
Since I wasn’t the type of woman to give up, I turned it again. The engine didn’t even try to turn over this time. Just a hollow, mocking silence.
A heavy knock on my window made me jump even though I should have been expecting it. Griffin was standing there, staring down at me. Since I couldn’t roll the window down, I opened the door and got out. “It’s temperamental,” I told him fiercely. “Give it a second.”
“Your battery is dead, Keely.”
“It’s resting.”
I honestly didn’t think his face could be any darker, but he proved me wrong, starting down at me.
“I am perfectly capable of handling this.” I hated the defensive edge in my voice. I was a confident, curvy woman who handled everyone else’s problems. I didn’t want to be the problem.
Griffin rested one hand on the open door and the other on the hood of the car. He was so close I could see the faint lines around his eyes and almost feel the dark stubble on his sharp jawline. “I know you’re capable. I know you don’t need me to fix it. But I’m here, I have a truck, and you need a ride home. Get your stuff.”
I glared at him. He stared back, entirely unfazed by my attitude.
“Fine,” I snapped, grabbing my purse and book bag. “But I’m paying you for the gas.”
“Try it and I’ll leave you on the side of the road,” he replied flatly.
I barely resisted the urge to stick out my tongue at his high-handed manner. Instead, I locked my door, wondering why I even bothered. But it was a good little car, and the only one I had.
Griffin led me to his truck. He opened the passenger door, and I looked at the height of that seat and sighed. There was no graceful way to do this, but I did it anyway—hoisted myself up and felt my jeans pull tight—and told myself it didn’t matter. I was in. I was seated. I was fine.
I tugged my shirt down and stared straight ahead.
He shut the door, walked around to the driver’s side and got in. “Where to?” he asked, throwing it into gear.
“Oak Street.”
