Opening the passenger door, I have every intention of laying the seat back and closing my eyes. This ain’t my first rodeo with those two; this little sexcapade could last a while.
The overhead light clicks on when the door opens and my breath catches in my chest. The most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen is sleeping in the driver’s seat. Something inside of me shifts. The need to talk to this girl and make a good impression consumes me. She opens one eye and looks up. Realizing the light must have woken her, I tip my hat and slip in the passenger seat so the light can click off.
“Hey there.” Fucking, hell. What am I, sixty? Who talks like this? Why can’t I be normal and just say hi.
The girl doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t smile, but her gaze darts over to me a few times. Maybe I can save this. “You’re pretty.”
“Thanks.” She looks out the window towards my truck.
I stare at her, waiting for her to look at me again. One second. Two seconds. Four seconds. Shit.
There’s no other choice. I have to pull out my go-to line. It’s a hook, line, and sinker every time. “I’m a bull rider.”
It all starts with her eyes. They find me first, and then her head turns. A fraction of a second later, the corners of her mouth lift into a small but noticeable smirk.
There’s a sweet satisfaction knowing that I’ve broken through her façade, but all I want is to taste those lips. I’d probably be useless for anything else tonight. Gotta love Jack Daniels.
I lean closer and her scent makes my head swim. Flashing my best smile, I say again, “I’m a bull rider.”
The girl laughs and shakes her head. If I hadn’t drank a fifth of whiskey, I might be offended, but I find her resistance endearing. Most of the girls around here throw themselves at me, but not this one. The fact that she doesn’t want me makes me want her even more. One way or another, I will win her over.
She turns her head, bringing her gaze to mine. It’s too dark to tell what color her eyes are but I bet they’re beautiful. “I have a boyfriend.”
“I don’t see him here tonight.” I reach my hand out and touch her cheek. I stare at her lips, unable to think about anything else. Most of the girls I screw around with taste like beer. I’d put money on it that this one doesn’t. I’m guessing she’ll taste like cherry because of the Chapstick in the center console.
The overhead light clicks on, blinding me. My eyes are slow to adjust but when they do, I open the passenger door, stand, and watch this chick cross the parking lot.
She pounds her fist against the side of my truck, a move that would have gotten her face beaten if she were a dude. “I swear to god, Kelly, if you aren’t in your car in one minute, I’m leaving without you.”
“Get up, bitch, we’re going to the beach.”
I groan and pull the blanket over my head. My whole body aches and I didn’t have one drop of alcohol last night.
I’m an eight hours of sleep kind of girl, and judging by how shitty I feel, I’d say I got five at best. How Kelly is functioning at full speed after getting rip-roaring drunk is beyond me. My blanket is ripped from my body and I am forced to open my eyes.
“You can borrow this.” Kelly tosses a bikini at my feet then turns back to the mirror on her dresser and continues to line her eyes.
I pick the hot pink strings up and wonder, How do these scraps cover anything? I’ve worn bikinis before, I have a drawer full back home, but all of them have more fabric than this.
“I should get going. My Aunt Tricia is probably wondering where I am.”
“She’s not.” Kelly caps her eye pencil and opens a tube of mascara. “Mom said you were staying with us until tomorrow. I figure, if I’ve got to babysit you, the least we can do is get you in the sun so you don’t look like you crawled out of a coffin for tonight’s party.”
The weekend?
Please tell me this is some sort of paralleled-reality-nightmare. I shove my hand under the pillow and search for my phone. When I find it, there’s an unread message from my aunt.
AT: Status update.
“I...um...I’m gonna step outside and make a quick phone call.”
Kelly doesn’t acknowledge me as I walk out of her room. I pause in the hallway and look around. Her house is designed where a living room/dining room combo separates the master bedroom from the other two rooms in the house. I unlock her sliding glass door and the moment her three Yorkies hear that click, they’re at my feet, ready to go out.
“Sorry, little guys.” I push them back then close the slider. I don’t want to be responsible for losing her dogs or, better yet, have to run this early in the morning because they escaped.
Sitting in one of the plastic chairs, I open my recent calls and click AT. It only rings twice before she answers with, “How was last night?”
“Good, I guess. No one got arrested and I’m pretty sure Kelly isn’t pregnant.”