Page 19 of Over the Limit

Not gonna happen. I push money across the bar top to pay my tab.

She’s taken.

I stand up.

I’m an all or nothing type of guy and if I attempt to get to know her better, I know myself. I won’t be able to stop. Or be able to let go.

And that’s not a fucking option.

So I’m going to nip this shit in the bud.

It’s when I turn to leave that my plans fly out the fucking window. She’s standing in my way, her smile wide, and her eyes as welcoming as the luscious curves of her body.

Jesus fucking Christ.

“Hi. You’re here?” She asks it like a question.

“I am.” My gaze darts down to her lips and then back up.

“A driver out in the wild without his entourage. That’s twice now. You sure you’re really an F1 driver?” Her brow furrows but her lips twist as she fights back a smile.

I glance down and pat my chest in a mock check. “Pretty sure I am. Guess we’ll see in quali on Saturday how I do.”

“I’ll reserve judgment until I can see your moves.” She winks.

God, she’s adorable.

“Noted. I’ll make sure I pull out all the stops.” I take a sip of my beer that I forgot I drained and earn a laugh from her when I realize it’s empty.

“I’m hoping you have better moves than that,” she teases.

“Definitely better than that,” I say.

“May I?” she asks as she points to the empty chair beside me.

No.

Yes.

Why are you torturing me?

“Of course,” I say and pull the chair out for her before taking a seat back in the one I swore I was vacating to save myself from this very situation.

She sits herself but turns to face me so that her knees bump innocently against mine. Our positioning leaves me no other option but to pay full attention to her.

“So, Mr. Evans,” she says, her head angling to the side, and sets her book down beside her. “What exactly are you doing here at this late hour?”

“I could ask the same of you.”

“You could. But I asked first. And schoolyard etiquette says you have to go first.”

“Schoolyard etiquette also says whoever smelled it dealt it so I wouldn’t exactly die on a hill when it comes to those rules.”

She chuckles and her cheeks flush pink.

Did I just invoke the fart rule? Jesus, Lach. Really?

“Noted. But . . . I did ask first.”