I shake off my thoughts and clear my throat.“Did I screw it up?”
Her head tilts, making her hair fall over her shoulders.“What do you mean?”
“You look like you’re waiting for a ride.”
She swallows tightly.“Iwas.”
My eyes take in more of her, noticing the light makeup on her face… her pretty dress and wedge heels… the disappointment lining her brow.“He stood you up,” I guess.
She presses a hand to her hip.“What makes you think I’m waiting for a guy?”
“It’s not Todd, is it?”God, I hope not.I’ve never met a Todd who wasn’t duller than dishwater.
“Who the heck is Todd?”
“The five-year-old you had over today to stare at your car while I fixed it.”
Chloe smiles.“You mean Young Tom.And no, he’s not the one who stood me up.”
She adds nothing further, and I give her a clipped smile.Not my problem.“Okay.Have a good one.”Not my problem.I climb into my truck and start the ignition.After reversing out of the driveway, I catch a glimpse of Chloe in the rearview mirror, peering down the street.She frowns at her phone again, her lips turned down.
Not my problem.
Not my problem.
Not my…Dammit.
Before I know it, I’m reversing back toward her.Clearly, someone’s being an asshole to this woman tonight, and I don’t want that someone to be me.Seeing her alone in that nice dress, like she’s been ditched, makes me want to smack some sense into the dickhead who did it.
I pull up in front of her with the passenger window open. “I’m off to grab a bite.You hungry?”
The makeup on her eyelids makes them sparkle.“Always.”
Looks like we have something in common after all.“Well?Want to come?”
Her brows slide up, her mouth opens, and she laughs.
Not really the reaction I was expecting.“What’s so funny?”
She crosses her arms.“Man, I must look pretty pathetic if even you are feeling sorry for me.”
“That’s not what… I didn’t mean it like that.”This is why I mind my own damn business.
She taps her lips, hiding her smile.“Decisions, decisions.Stay here looking pathetic, or get into a truck with a complete stranger.”Her hand falls to her side.“How do I know you’re not a serial killer?”
“If I were a serial killer, I’d be way more charming and charismatic than I am.That’s Psychopath 101.”
“True.”She twists her heel into the sandy asphalt, still hesitating.
“As fun as this is, I’m starving, so you have about three seconds before I drive away.”My patience has an expiration date.
She swipes her phone’s screen, snaps a picture of my license plate, then climbs into the passenger seat.Instead of fastening her seatbelt, she leans into me, and I catch a glimpse of a tattoo peeking through a cutout in the side of her sundress.A mermaid.My lungs seize as her soft cheek smashes against mine, her arm held out to take a selfie of us with her phone.
When she draws back, she leaves behind a waft of coconut.“What was that for?”I ask.
“Proof in case you decide to murder me.”She snort-laughs.
Maybe I should be offended, but to be honest, I like that she’s being careful.
