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I can’t help but smile at her, and our eyes stay locked until we’re snapped out of the moment by the sound of a horn honking a few spaces over. I walk around the front of the cab to open her door, and before she can climb out on her own, I take hold of her waist and pull her out, gently setting her on her feet.
“I can do that, you know? Get out of the truck by myself without falling…probably.” I still have my hands on her small waist, and we’re standing so close she has to tip her head all the way back to look me in the eye.
“Wouldn’t want to risk it, would we, babygirl?”
“Ah, so we’re back to ‘babygirl’ again, huh?” she asks in a faux haughty tone, though there’s a twitch to one side of her mouth like she’s trying to fight a smile. Telling me her story and then dozing must have done her some good because something’s changed. She’s being playful right now and hasn’t tried to pull away, and I’m here for it. Fingers crossed, this means she’s decided to forgive me within the last few hours.
I lean down until our noses almost touch. “That’s right, babygirl. Get used to it,” I say with a wink, smirking when she blushes.
Fuck. Yes.
“Well, if you get to call me ‘babygirl’, what do I get to call you?” Her blue eyes twinkle with mischief.
A word flashes behind my eyes, and in an instant, I know exactly what I want her to call me.
Don’t say it, Wyatt. Do. Not. Say what you’re thinking.
Instead, I tell her, “I’m sure you’ll come up with something, babygirl.” There I go, winking at her again. I place a quick surprise kiss on the tip of her nose and squeeze her waist once before dropping my hands to take hold of one of her own. “Come on, let’s get something to eat, then we’ll hit the showers to wash the day off.”
“Hold on, boo boo. I need to fix my hair first.” She tugs her hand out of mine to pull out her hair tie, her long, gorgeous hair falling around her shoulders like a golden veil.
“‘Boo boo’? Really? That’s what you came up with?”
She laughs loudly as she ties her hair back up in a thick bun. “Oh, you don’t like it? That’s ok, tater tot. We’ll figure it out.” She can barely get that pet name out, and now we’re both laughing. Goddamn, it feels good.
Her stomach rumbles louder, and with her hands free now that she’s done messing with her hair, I twine my fingers through hers and tug her along with me.
“Alright, babygirl. Time to let tater tot buy you dinner.”
I want to bottle up the laugh she lets loose at that so I can carry it in my pocket for the rest of my days.
Chapter 12
Dolly
When we get to the bustling bar, my first order of business is a pit stop to the restroom. I’m absolutely bursting after chugging as much water as I could after my pitiful hike and subsequent nap earlier.
Thankful that the restroom is empty so I can catch a few seconds alone, I check myself out in the mirror and grimace at how rough I look. My yoga pants are worn thin at the knees, covered in dirt from when I fell on the side of the highway. I’m dusty and sweaty, and it was a mistake to take a whiff of my armpits to check how stinky I am after the longest day ever.
My messy bun looks more like a rat’s nest, but there’s no help for it without my brush. I try to finger-comb it as best I can and manage to make it look halfway decent. I desperately need a shower but settle for washing my face with hand soap and wetting a paper towel to swipe under my armpits.
To add insult to injury, the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen walks in just as I’m drying off. Next to her, I look exactly like what I am—a dirty, homeless teen. She has bright, platinum-blonde hair, whereas mine is more of a lackluster blonde. Her shiny hair falls in carefully styled barrel waves halfway down her back to her perky peach of an ass, while mine is limp and in desperate need of a cut. She’s a lot taller than me, too, with legs that go on for days, and her makeup looks expertly applied.
In short, she’s stunning.
I want to be her when I grow up.
I immediately take that thought back when she eyes me up and down in the mirror, giving me a nasty, pinched look like she’s annoyed she has to share her space with me.
Wyatt seems to like the way I look, at least a little, judging by what we did in bed. Unless he really didn’t care that it was me he was touching so intimately. Maybe he was just happy to have a woman, any woman. The thought that he might not be attracted to me, that he would see this gorgeous woman and lose his mind over her—like any man would—is strangely upsetting.
I shouldn’t care what he thinks about me after how he’s treated me. I should have run the other way when he pulled over on the highway, not giving him even a second of my time to apologize, no matter how tired I was.
But there’s just something about him…a pull I feel toward him with the way he touches me and watches me…when he’s not being a world-class jackass, that is.
I certainly like the way he looks. His thick thighs, an ass that bounces with each step he takes, his strong, beefy arms, bushy beard, and husky torso. The way he towers over me and makes me feel precious when he’s holding me, supporting me, comforting me. The way he’s been so caring and sweet ever since he came back for me.
He is pure masculinity, and I find him incredibly sexy, though I know he thinks I was lying about wanting to be with him.
