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ChapterOne
TESS
The last thing I expected to discover at the car wash is that Spencer Crane is hot. Yes, I’m talking aboutthatSpencer Crane. The rule-following neat-freak who lives to call me Mess. The two of us couldn’t be any less compatible if we tried.
Peanut butter and pickles.
Steak and syrup.
Beach sand and glue.
These things all go together better than Spencer and I do. I mean, most of my clothes could double as pajamas, but this guy? He wears pressed khakis, Clark Kent glasses, and a full-on tie to work. Today, though, Spencer’s at his second job, washing cars for his brother on the weekends. The glasses are gone, and he just peeled off his shirt.
Oh. My. Abs.
This is a side of him I never imagined.
Not that I’ve spent a bunch of timeimaginingSpencer Crane. But I’ve gotten to know him pretty well this past year. Mostly at the library. Always fully-clothed. He works the reference desk on weeknights, and I was in charge of some new construction there. But in all that time, I obviously didn’t see what he’s got going on under his starched button-downs. His entire torso is rippling with lean muscles.
Like I said. Spencer Crane is hot.
Scratch that. He isn’t just hot. He’s a full-on, five-alarm scorcher. And I’m not talking about the temperature, although I’ve been sweating bullets all morning. (For the record, Spencer taking his shirt off hasn’t helped my perspiration situation.)
My best friend, Jill, hasn’t seemed to notice.How could she not notice?She’s one spot next to me, bent over her own car, soaping up the hood. We’re on the self-serve side of the Apple Valley Car Wash. Spencer’s twenty yards away, working on the other. This car wash, an add-on to Apple Valley Auto next door, looks a whole lot like a gas station, except instead of a row of pumps, they’ve got pressure hoses, buckets, soap, and tons of towels and rags. For three dollars, Frank Crane—Spencer’s brother, who also owns the auto shop—lets people use all the car wash’s supplies for a little DIY cleaning.
Across the way, Spencer is hosing down a navy blue station wagon. With his free hand, he rakes his black hair into spikes, and water droplets land on his pecs. Now they’re glistening, and his biceps flex as he glances my way. Oh nooooo. I think he caught me gawking.
So I cover my tracks fast.
“Hey! Can you toss me a couple towels?” I call out. “My station’s totally empty!” I square my shoulders and act likethat’sthe reason I was staring at him. A desperate towel need.
Hey. It could happen.
“I’ve got some over here,” Jill says. When she turns toward me, her long, dark ponytail swings. Then she freezes, studying me for a moment. “Are you all right? Your cheeks look awfully… red. They’re like two over-ripe tomatoes.”
“Blech.” I pretend to gag. “Please don’t use the wordripeto describe me. Ever again.”
“Technically, I saidoverripe.”
I wrinkle my nose. “And that’s supposed to be better?”
“You’ve got a point.” Jill stifles a laugh. “Let’s just say you’re delightfully flushed then.” As she grabs a stack of towels and rags from the table beside her car, I hazard another peek at shirtless Spencer. My retinas start to burn.
Delightfully flushed.
If Jill only knew.
She hands over the stack of towels, and I chirp, “Thank you!” a little too brightly. “For the record, I’m only flushy because there’s no air conditioning at my house. Well, technically, it’s Nash’s house. But I can’t exactly complain to him about the lack of air now, can I? Not without seeming ungrateful for the deal he gave me.” Setting the towels on the console, I take a small one off the top. “That’s the downside to being such good friends with your landlord and his wife.”
Jill shrugs. “So I guess it’s a good thing he and Emi decided to sell?”
“Sure.” My heart sinks at the same time my mouth curves into an upside-down U. “If you consider getting kicked out of the place you’re living a good thing. Not to mention the fact that I really miss them.” I blink, then start wiping down my windshield, hoping to dry the glass before the heat causes any water spots. “At least the fact that they’re staying in DC permanently means things are going well.” I stop wiping to glance up at Jill. “And I’ll always have you, right? Promise me you’re not going anywhere.”
“Never ever.”
“Perfect.” My giant sigh blows a sticky strand of hair out of my face. “I just wish I hadn’t let myself fall in love with their house. It was really starting to feel like home.”
Jill nods, and her lip quirks. “Did you finally get enough empty pizza boxes piled up in the kitchen?”
