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I peek my head up to see if Dillon has left yet, only to find him and Xavier looking in my direction.

"Crap," I whisper, ducking back down so quickly that I end up falling on my butt. Great. I hope my little turtle friend lives a long, happy life with his little turtle family because saving his little turtle life has seriously thrown a wrench in mine.

I would back into the grouchiest, hottest man alive. Either he woke up on the wrong side of the bed, or he really doesn't like me much because he is cranky. But good grief, he is gorgeous with his brooding green eyes, messy chestnut brown hair, and sexy tattoos. I think he won the gene pool lottery.

I did not. I'm short and curvy with crazy hair and freckles. If I got it from one of my parents, I don't remember which. My sisters and I were adopted as little girls. Gemma, my younger sister, doesn't even remember life before we were adopted. My older sister, Heidi, Leia, and Adalynn, don't talk much about life before we were adopted. They don't want to remember it. I can't say I blame them for that. What I remember isn't pleasant. Our parents were neglectful and in and out of prison. We spent a lot of time in foster care, often separated from one another. When we weren't in foster care, we were left alone, sometimes for days on end. It's why I hate being alone now. I know that much.

"You can come out now, kitten," Xavier drawls from the other side of the tree, amusement in his voice. "He's gone."

"Are you sure?" I ask, not entirely convinced I trust Xavier Grimes. Mostly because he has no reason to trust or help me. As far as he knows, I'm a crazy person with no license or insurance who just hit his rental and is hiding from the cops. Why would he help me?

"Positive. I told him that we were going to handle it privately since the damage is minimal and no one is hurt." He pauses. "I can call him back if you want to check for yourself."

"Don't you dare, Xavier Grimes." I shoot to my feet like a rocket, hands planted on my hips.

Xavier smirks down at me, amusement glinting in his seafoam eyes. And then his gaze drops lower. Something dark and hungry sweeps through his expression, sweeping me away with it.

"Stop looking at me like that," I whisper as an answering hunger swirls through me.

"Like what?" He doesn't even hide the fact that he's staring at my boobs. He's shameless, really.

"Like you want to eat me."

"Oh, but I do, kitten." His hot gaze flicks to mine. His tongue swipes across his bottom lip. "I want to gobble you up exactly like the big bad wolf. And the longer we stand here, the more I want it."

I gulp, my knees trembling. He means it. The truth glitters like diamonds in his eyes. Despite the fact that I wrecked his truck and his morning, he wants me. Judging by the samba my womb is dancing at the moment, my body is one hundred percent on board.

Unfortunately, my conscience isn't. He doesn't even know who I am. Starting something with him would be wrong. I may be a liar, but I'm not…well, whatever kind of person starts a relationship under a fake name. At least, I don't want to be that kind of person. I've caused enough trouble for one month.

And Xavier I'm So Sexy Grimes has trouble written all over him.

"Thanks, but no thanks," I mutter, crossing my arms over my chest to hide my boobs from his gaze. "I don't sleep with strange men I met on the side of the road."

"You didn't meet me on the side of the road. You hit me on the road," he reminds me.

"Tomato, to-mah-to."

"Fine, but you still owe me."

"I do not owe you sex," I growl, glaring at him. "I did not agree to that, Xavier Grimes!"

"Whoa, whoa." His expression turns thunderous. "What the fuck, kitten? Who said anything about you owing me sex? When you sleep with me, it'll be because you can't imagine not having me inside you, not because you think you owe it to me." He takes a step toward me, his face set in a hard line. "No woman owes any man her body. Ever. Are we clear?"

"At least we agree on something," I mumble, refusing to acknowledge the way my heart flutters. He's wiggling his way into it awfully fast for a grouch. "What do I owe you if not…that?"

"Dinner."

"You want me to cook for you?" Okay, so maybe he's not wiggling that fast.

"Fuck no. I want to take you out."

And he's wiggling again.

"I don't think you're very good at this people owing you favors thing," I say after a moment. "They're supposed to do things for you, not the other way around. I hope you don't have plans to go into business."

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