My rider is Beau.
My stomach squirms because this kid is unbelievably gorgeous and charismatic. He managed to charm me even after knocking me to the ground in the grocery store. The way he tripped on his words but made every attempt to iron it out before we parted is seared into my mind.
I’ve never had a man care what I thought about him as much asthis kid.
Beau. I have to call him that. No more calling him kid. I roll my window down.
“Hey, Beau,” I say, unable to mask the organic smile plastering my lips because after the chaos of my house and feeling guilty and selfish this morning, I’m genuinely glad to see him.
Partial stranger or not.
Crouching down, he peers into the backseat to catch a glimpse of Jett. The way his shoulders spread and his black leather jacket spans taut over his thick back makes everything between my legs tingle. Dark worn jeans, black boots bearing wear, a fitted white t-shirt, and a black leather jacket. He is literally my fourteen-year-old self’s fantasy.
Mine now, too, really.
His brown hair is swept to the top of his head in a cohesive wave, toppling softly over on one side, only slightly. The way his grin raises the edges of his eyes, so genuine and honest, I don’t feel a bit guilty about my palpitating heart and frantic pulse.
He’s handsome and sweet and a good guy, I’m sure. It’s normal to be… turned on. It’s normal to feel excited to see him.
After justifying everything in my mind in less than ten seconds, I enjoy the rush of spice and soap that floods the car as he slides into the backseat, right next to Jett.
“Jett, it’s great to see you again, my man.” He reaches like he’s going to touch Jett’s foot but pauses, his eyes darting to mine in the rearview mirror. I smile, but Beau rests his hand on the edge of the car seat instead. “Brought your giraffe. Good.”
His eyes come back to mine. “Hi again.” His tongue sweeps over his bottom lip, and my pussy pulses.“Rebecca.”
The way his throat clicks on the double c’s makes my skin hot.
My tongue peels off the roof of my mouth when I say, “Beck. You can call me Beck.”
The eye contact in the rearview is unraveling me in ways I didn’t know were possible. A quiet, breathy giggle leaves me in a mortifying moment ofwho the fuck am I? My son is here. I’m hisrole model,and here I am giggling and looking away from a cute twenty-something likeI’ma cute twenty-something.
I amnota cute twenty-something.
I dip my head as I put the car into reverse. “Your destination is Wrench Kings. We’ll be there in eleven minutes.” I smile, lifting my chin as I put the car in drive, navigating down the small but bustling downtown street.
“I had to pay three other drivers this morning,” Beau says, his voice a little raw and tender in the morning. It does nothing for the ache between my legs.
I swallow. “What do you mean?” My mind is literally fogging right now. I clear my throat and pretend to busy myself with my chest belt.
“To get you. I had to pay them to turn down the ride.”
My eyes flash to the rearview, falling on his waiting ones, beautiful and wide.
“Why?” I ask because after everything I’ve been through, I’m someone who needs answers.
“I want to know you, Beck.” His answer is so simple, so reactive, I have to believe it’s true. Or else he’s an Academy Award winning actor.
“Again,” I say, slowing my words to make sure I’m choosing the best ones. “Why?”
He clicks his tongue, and my eyes, which had returned to the road, flick back to him in the small rectangle. He shakes his head, his expression one of disappointment and sadness. My veins buzz and my stomach twists. I swallow.
Finally, he says, “why the fuck are you so surprised?”
“Don’t curse.”
He winces a little. “I’m sorry. That won’t happen again.” His eyes are magnetic in the rearview. “You have my word.”
I nod.