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“Are you sure? The guy would be in his mid-twenties, the girl in her late teens. Brown hair, dark eyes?”
“Sorry. Never heard of anyone by those names and I know everyone.”
Damn it. A sense of dejection washed through her. She’d have to try the next town over. “Thanks,” she replied, trying not to let the sound of disappointment slip into her tone, and walked out of the shop.
The disappointment quickly morphed into frustration as everything around her faded into nothing. She only had a few days left to find them. If she didn’t … well, she didn’t want to think about saying to Sam that she’d failed. Especially after he’d saved her.
But something in her gut told her this was the right place.
“Watch out!”
Spinning at the sound of the male voice, instantly followed by the squeal of tires, Lacey’s eyes widened as hot air rushed past her cheeks, sucking the breath out of her lungs. Strong fingers grasped her arms, digits digging into her skin, almost down to the bone. The world slowed down and at the same time sped up, leaving her mind confused and dazed as everything became nothing more than sensation and a blur of muted colours.
Then the world righted itself and she found herself laying on top of something hard. Blinking rapidly, brown eyes the colour of cinnamon laced brandy stared up at her. “What the …” she breathed.
“While I normally don’t mind hot girls laying on top of me, I’m not keen on it in the middle of the road.”
It took Lacey a moment to realise the eyes were part of a face, a particularly handsome face. A second later, she glanced down only to find herself sprawled on top of someone. “Sorry,” she whispered, hurrying to her feet, guilt stabbing her chest as her elbows dug into a soft part of his abdomen.
The rev of a motorbike whipped her attention east. The vehicle stood in the street, its helmeted rider gazing over his shoulder. A second later, it sped off down the road, a cloud of smoke billowing into the air.
Great. I’ve been here five minutes and some guy almost kills me. I always said small towns would be the death of me.
“Fucking idiot,” the guy beside her spat, standing beside her. A look of disgust lined his features.
“You know them?” Lacey asked, frowning.
“The Jacob’s boy. Got his license two days ago and thinks he’s a stunt driver,” he spat. “You OK?”
Lacey nodded, turning her attention back to her saviour. Then tried not to gasp. Short dark hair framed a square face, his smooth skin the colour of honey. Equally as dark eyes threatened to pull her in and to never release her. He wore tight black jeans that moulded to perfectly sculptured legs, and the short sleeved black t-shirt stretched over a broad chest and perfectly toned arms.
Holy fuck.
Gorgeous. This man was sin on legs. “Err, thanks for saving me,” she stammered.
Mr Sin just nodded. “Look where you’re going next time.”
Gorgeous, but rude. His words grinded like sand into her flesh. “It’s not my fault the prat was going eighty miles an hour.”
“It is your fault. You weren’t looking where you were going.”
Indignation burned in Lacey’s belly. Or was that nausea? “Hey, don’t -”
His mouth turned into a dangerous slash. “Take some damn responsibility, lady. Not everyone will drag your sorry ass out of harm’s way.”
Spluttering, Lacey watched him as he turned and strode down the street, shaking his head before jumping into an old pickup truck a hundred yards away.
Gorgeous, but definitely a fucking jerk.
As he drove past her a few seconds later, the nausea welled up further. Lacey snorted. “Another man who makes me sick to my stomach.”
