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“That an offer of payment for a ride?” The snarky question was accompanied by a barely there sexy as hell smirk, and my bad side nearly screamed.Yes! Yes, pleeeeease!

Instead I snorted. “Yeah, right. And in answer to your question, I don’t have the money for a tow right now.” My face reddened at the admission.

“So you call a seventy-one-year-old woman?” he asked, incredulous. “Or were you hoping I’d come for you?”

Whether the innuendo was intentional or not, it had me squeezing my legs together.

“I don’t normally ask for anything from her, but I was in a bind. I honestly forgot you were here. Look, never mind, I can walk.” I grabbed my purse from the passenger seat floor where it had slid when I hit the pole.

When I turned back, he was still resting one arm on the top of my door and the other on top of my car. “Move, please. I need to get out.”

“You’re not going to walk.”

Pushing up and trying to move him out of my way, I lost it and burst into frustrated tears. Which served to make me madder, because I hated that I was crying in front of him. “Get out of my way! I don’t need you and your stupid truck. I don’t need rescuing!”

His cool hand rested on my cheek. “Hey, chill. It’s okay.”

“It isnoto-fucking-kay! My life is going to absolute shit!Again!I cannot deal with this. Every fucking time I think I’m getting my life straight, I swear to fucking Christ Karma comes along and butt-fucks me without lube. I’ve paid my goddamn debt!”

He placed his other hand along my other cheek, and though his hands were chilled from the cold, where our skin touched was like flames licking the surface. I continued to cry, and I hated it. Crying made you weak. Crying made you a target.

I never cried. “Goddamn it!” I shouted in utter frustration.

His storm-colored eyes narrowed as he slid his hands down my neck and used his thumbs to lift my chin. The light from the streetlamp illuminated the way he seemed to study me like a bug under a microscope.

“Quit looking at me! Can’t a girl have a breakdown in peace?” I shouted.

“No,” he replied, looking absolutely baffled.

“No?” I repeated with wide, disbelieving eyes. Who the hell was this guy to tell me I couldn’t lose my shit when I felt like it?

“You don’t feel calmer?” he bizarrely questioned as his brows drew down beneath the front of his beanie.

“Do I look calmer?” I damn near shrieked. Honest to fucking God, I was ready to hit the man with my purse.

“No, and that’s what worries me,” he muttered with disgruntled disbelief.


Tags: Kristine Allen Royal Bastards MC: Ankeny, IA Fantasy