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I peek at her from the corner of my eye. “Did you ever find out what you had?”
“Nope, not really. Just a nasty bug that wouldn’t leave. On the positive side, I lost ten pounds.”
“Didn’t need to lose an ounce,” I grumble under my breath.
“According to you, bestie. Other guys might choose to see my figure differently.” She turns toward me. Sunlight streams in the open window to brighten her dark hair. Fucking breathtaking.
“They can kick rocks if your weight is a factor for them. Your body is beautiful and built to fulfill the most sinful fantasies.”
She snorts. “Spoken like a true gentleman who avoids commitment as if it’s a flesh-eating disease.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I mutter.
Before I can argue further, my attention is stolen by a small object crawling across the pavement. A quick glance ahead confirms there’s oncoming traffic. The cars show no signs of slowing down. I tap on the brakes, easing over onto the shoulder.
“Little guy is gonna get hit. Be right back,” I reassure.
Then I hop out of the cab to rescue the stereotype attempting to cross the road. Once he’s safely plopped in the ditch, I return to my spot behind the wheel. Grace is gawking at me while I buckle up and resume our journey.
A minute passes and she hasn’t moved. It’s the longest she’s sat still since I picked her up thirty minutes ago.
I chuckle at her frozen state. “What’s on your mind, soulmate?”
Her mouth works soundlessly for several beats. “You stopped to save a turtle.”
“Yeah?”
She flails her arms. “Gosh, of course. You’re the type of guy who cares about defenseless animals, as if you aren’t perfect enough.”
I furrow my brow, keeping my gaze trained through the windshield. “Who wouldn’t?”
“Most,” she retorts.
“Savages.”
“That’s precisely the problem,” she mumbles.
My heart races faster at the hidden meaning. “Is that on your list?”
Grace blinks. “Huh?”
“Of preferred qualities in a potential husband,” I remind.
“Oh, right. I almost forgot.” She thumps her forehead. “It needs updating.”
“Must stop for turtles.” I pretend to write, earning me a giggle.
“Top priority,” she agrees.
I release a low whistle. “Mr. Monogamy is a tall order to fill.”
“Any luck finding him?” She props her elbow on the center console to bring us closer.
My gaze slides in her direction. It takes heroic effort to ignore how round her tits look in that shirt. “Somebody got sick and paused the search.”
“Couldn’t do the task without me?”
“Why would I bother sending you pics of dudes when you wouldn’t even return my regular messages?”
