Page 66 of Playing with the Heartbreaker

Islide my debit card into the machine and follow the on-screen prompts. It’s closing time, but I hope I’m not too late. Working my mom’s events—and being grounded—is cramping my social life. I’m actually only here because I offered to wash her car, and she was on a post-event high.

Sure, I’m a bit of a suck-up, but she doesn’t know I have ulterior motives.

The side-door opens and out walks the attendant. My stomach sinks. It’s Farrah. Her dark brown curls are piled on top of her head. I roll down my window.

“Any chance Rhoads is still here?” I ask.

Farrah scrunches her face, indecision written all over her.

“Look, I know he’s mad at me. I’m trying to make amends.” I hold up the Sugar & Spice takeout bag. “Please?”

Farrah opens her mouth, but Rhoads comes out the door and speaks first.

“We’re closing up,” he says. Then he notices me leaning out my window. “Baker?”

“I come bearing sweet treats. Pretty please let me go through?”

He runs his hands through his hair. “Alright. Fine.” He turns to Farrah. “Can you run the board?”

“Yeah, okay. But you owe me one.” She heads back in and stands at the entrance to the car wash, directing me forward.

Rhoads opens my passenger door and slides in, clicking on the seatbelt.

Once I’ve got the car in neutral, I turn to him. “I’m really sorry about what I said.” I shake my head. “I had no business telling you that people think any certain way about you. And I certainly shouldn’t have sounded so judgy about it. It’s none of my, or anyone else’s, business.”

The car lurches forward, pulled by the machine. Pink and blue and yellow soap drizzles onto the windshield. The tentacles smear them like watercolors on a canvas.

“I brought apology muffins.” I hand him the bag. He stares at me for a long moment before taking it and unrolling the top.

By now, we’re far enough into the car wash that it’s too loud to talk. Rhoads breathes in over the bag. His facial muscles relax, and his eyes sparkle. My stomach does a weird flip.

He removes an apple cinnamon muffin and takes a giant bite. His eyes spring wide open. His sharp jaw works faster, like he can’t quite chew quickly enough.

We’re to the rinse stage now. Sheets of water rain down.

I start to say something, but Rhoads presses his forefinger to my lips. “Shhh.”

My lips tingle. I resist the urge to purse them. He doesn’t pull his hand away for many seconds, his eyes locked on mine. My lungs are overfilled, stretched to capacity with my held breath.

A loud grinding sound breaks the moment. The car stalls in the middle of the track.

I glance at him. “Is it supposed to do that?”

Rhoads’s smile falters. “Umm. No, actually. It’s not supposed to do that. Umm. Hang on.” He puts the half-eaten muffin back in the paper sack and reaches for the door handle.

“Wait. If you go out there, you’re going to get drenched.”

Rhoads shrugs. “Good thing I’m not afraid of water, then.” He pops open his door and steps out, bending down to inspect the tires. “Wheel’s stuck,” he yells to me. Water streams down his face, so he has to squint. But that somehow makes him even more attractive. He kicks the tire a few times, but the car doesn’t budge.

“Farrah?” he calls.

Traces of panic cut through his relaxed demeanor. I unlock my door.

He gestures for me to stay put. “No, stay there, it’s fine. I just have to⁠—”

Ignoring him, I get out of the car and shut the door behind me. Icy water rains down the back of my neck. “Holy whoa that’s freezing cold.”

“—hit the emergency shut-off,” Rhoads finishes. He slams his hand against the red button on the wall by the office. The machines grind to a halt. The water ceases. Colored bubbles float up and around us, reminiscent of another car wash we shared.