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“No.” He dropped the rag on the hood, taking a breath. “You’re gonna have to find another bachelor.”
She frowned then, and looked every bit the thwarted, spoiled girl. With a heavy sigh that moved things in a way he shouldn’t have noticed, she headed for the rolled-up garage door.
“Okay, I’ll just—I guess I’ll give ‘em the bad news. Fuck.”
“Language, Kels.”
“Sorry…”
He thought she was going to walk past him then, but she stopped, close, and laid a hand on his arm. “Will you… will you at least think about it? I don’t have to enter the names until Friday. Still a few days. Just think about it?” She batted her eyelashes at him. “For me?”
He ground his teeth, but nodded. “I will, but I’m positive the answer isn’t going to be any different by Friday.”
She beamed once more. “But you will think about it?”
“Yeah, that’s what I said.” He waved toward the door. “Now, get outta here, I need to finish up on your rig. Go… do something.”
“Awesome!” She clapped her hands together. “See you, Uncle Max!”
Then she was gone, leaving only the scent of her perfume in her wake.
Something else you need to stop fucking noticing!
There was no way in hell he was even going to consider it, but maybe in the next few days she’d be able to find someone else, and she’d forget about the entire stupid idea.
While he didn’t want to admit it, he was shocked—and a little flattered—that the girls in her sorority seemed to want him to be in the auction. Or Kelsey was just blowing smoke up his ass to get her way.
An equally likely possibility if he were honest with himself.
“Fucking college kids,” he muttered, opening the driver’s side door and reaching in to pop the hood once more.
His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he fished it out. It was a text, with a picture.
“Weird,” he murmured, opening it up.
Then he almost dropped his phone.
The picture was of a woman’s panties.
“Holy shit.”
It wasn’t just panties either. They were white cotton panties, pulled up, very tightly, against a plump sex. The panties left zero to the imagination, and the picture was zoomed in quite close. The fabric dove in between the close-seamed labia, clearly delineating every curve and crevice and shape of a very lovely pussy. He remembered seeing the vulgar term for it—‘camel toe.’
Whatever one wanted to call it, his cock was hard, instantly. And then he saw the number.
Kelsey?
“What… the fuck?”
But it got much worse—when he read the message accompanying it.
Wonder what you’ll be thinking of when you see this. God, I’d love to know.
His heart was pounding suddenly. It was—he didn’t know what it was. Did he reply back? Play dumb? Was she—?
His phone buzzed once more. A text only this time, from Kelsey again.
OMG! That was meant for someone else. Sorry!
