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“God damn, motherfucking bastard! Worthless piece of shit tin! You’re as useless as tits on a bull!”
More than slightly horrified by the filth spurting from her mouth, Aspen tried to rein in her temper, but it was like fireworks on the fourth of July. Once it was lit, she was gone.
Frustrated with the stupid car and her life in general, she pulled back her foot and viciously kicked the tire. Pain shot through her foot as her toes connected with the unyielding rubber. She grabbed at her foot, hopping around and cursing.
“If this is a new sort of dance, I’m glad I don’t care about keeping up with trends,” a low voice drawled.
“Fuck!” she cried out, putting her foot down. Turning sharply, she fell against the car, grateful it broke her fall. At least the heap of junk was good for something. It made an awesome leaning post.
“Shit! You scared me!” Her heart raced as she spotted the man who’d spoken.
Handsome and enigmatic with dark hair, a firm jaw, and a five o’clock shadow, Joel Saxon could have appeared on any Sexiest Man Alive list. He was dressed in a pair of neatly pressed slacks and a dark-blue shirt with the top button loose. How did he always look so perfectly put together? Did nothing ever ruffle him? Did he ever walk out of the toilet and realize his pants weren’t zipped? Or put on his underwear on backwards? Or spill ketchup down his shirt while eating a hot dog?
Of course, he probably didn’t eat hot dogs. Or water down his ketchup to make it go further. Or roll up the tube of toothpaste to get that last little bit out.
He raised his eyebrows. “I did call out to you, but you were too busy cursing up a storm. If you were mine, I’d be devising a way to punish you for that mouth.”
Punish? She kind of thought she’d been punished enough. She sighed, trying to ignore her throbbing toes.
Car, one. Aspen, zero.
“I’m going to owe the swear jar half my pay.” Trouble was that her mother stole all the money she put into it.
“Oh, sweetheart. I’d come up with something far more interesting as punishment than a swear jar. And it wouldn’t be your pocket that would be hurting.”
Holy shit. He had to be joking, right? She stared at him. Nope. Not even a hint of a smile. His gaze was intense as he stared down at her. A tendril of heat filled her. How could she possibly find that a turn on?
It wasn’t an empty threat, either. Joel Saxon was the owner of Saxon’s, a BDSM club and bar. And one of the sexiest and most eligible bachelors in Texas. That is, if you were into being bound, paddled, and dominated.
Which she was not, thank goodness. Not that that did much to calm her libido around him. He oozed sex appeal, and you’d have to be blind, dumb, or too young to see it.
She always turned into a clumsy, blathering fool around him. It was embarrassing. Although tonight might top everything else. Not often you get caught kicking a car while calling it a motherfucking bastard.
Oh, dear Lord.
“Are you going to tell me what the car did to you? Besides nearly breaking your toe.” He glanced down at her worn shoes, frowning slightly. “Let me check your foot.”
“What? No. It’s fine.” Her pride had taken more of a battering than her toes.
He stepped forward and opened the driver’s door. “Sit here and let me see your foot. I want to make sure you haven’t damaged anything.”
He just waited. Silently. That wasn’t intimidating at all. Finally, her resolve crumbled under the weight of his stare. With a sigh, she sat and started to pull off her shoe and sock.
“Don’t blame me if they’re hot and sweaty.”
“I’m certain I will cope,” he replied in a dry voice, as he knelt in front of her and pulled her foot up onto his thigh.
She searched for something to distract her from the affect his touch had on her. Who knew her foot could be such an erogenous zone?
“So, guess this is a total switch up for you. You kneeling while I . . .” She pressed her lips together. That had sounded better in her head.
His lips twitched. “Is it making you uncomfortable? Would you rather be the one kneeling before me?”
Oh, fuck. “No.”
“Hmm, that was a rather vehement no. Does the fact that I’m a Dominant offend you?”
“No.” If it did then she lived in the wrong place. Half the town seemed to belong to his club.
“Nothing appears to be broken, just a little bruised. Still, might be a good idea to lay off kicking cars for a while.” He slid her sock on before she could protest. She grabbed for her shoe.
“I can do that.”
“Didn’t say you couldn’t,” he replied easily.
Guilt filled her. She was acting like a bitch. He was just trying to help, after all. She just wished his help didn’t feel like a parent trying to calm a chi
ld. He slid her shoe on and did up her laces. Then he abruptly stood and took a step back. “Now that your foot is taken care of, let’s look at your car.”
“It won’t start.”
He glanced over the car. “Are you sure it’s not just out of gas?”
She frowned. “I’m not stupid. I checked the gas gauge.”
He gave her a cool look, and her stomach dropped. Okay, snapping at the biggest, baddest Dom in town probably wasn’t a smart idea. And that was saying something in a town filled with alpha males. Haven was an unusual place. Ménage relationships were embraced and accepted rather than being considered strange and wrong. And the men of this town took overprotectiveness to a whole other level. And they weren’t just protective of their own families but of all the females in town was unusual.
From the minute, she’d driven through the picturesque town she’d felt at home. The men had almost old-fashioned manners and the women in town were adored and cherished. But she didn’t know how long she’d stay, so letting herself get attached to this place or it’s people was a surefire way to get hurt. She’d learned that lesson.
She bit her lip, looked at her car. “I don’t suppose you know anything about cars?”
He flashed a smile and her heart almost stopped.
Get a grip, Aspen.
There was no way he’d ever be interested in her. And it wasn’t like she wanted anything to do with him or his dominant tendencies.
