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"Ava? Is that you?" Ben called out.
"Yeah, just give me a second. My hair's stuck!"
"What the heck are you doing up there?"
Rolling my eyes, I freed my hair. "Oh, I'm just enjoying the summer night up here on your fancy castle gate. You should try it sometime," I shot back at him.
When I had finally freed myself, a handful of hair missing, I didn’t bother climbing down all the way and jumped the final half.
I turned to find Benjamin standing right in front of me, away from his expensive supercar. I startled.
“Jesus, Benjamin... you scared me.”
Stumbling a few steps back, I took a good look at the man in front of me. Benjamin was in his late twenties. He was wearing an immaculate, sleek suit without a tie. Player boy was probably on his way to a date—as always. His short brown hair was made to look natural, but Ava knew from their childhood years that he had spent a lot of time styling it. She hated to admit it, but Benjamin Radcliff’s looks were far above a solid ten. Yes, he was that good-looking and in shape—movie-star level. He was not buff like her coworker, but he had a lean, muscular body. And worst of all, he was well aware of it.
“I... scared...you?” he said with a smirk. “You’re the one swinging down from the trees like a wild monkey.”
I cursed under my breath.
“I wouldn’t have to play primate if your mother would have been so kind as to open the gate for me so I can get my dad.”
“Sounds about right,” he said, nodding his head. “Well... anyway...” He got back into his car. “It was nice catching up and watching you swing around in the branches, but could you move your car now? I’m already late.”
Chin held up high, I strode back to my car and leaned against it, arms crossed tightly.
“Then I suggest you get your butt out of your billionaire ride and help me push my car!” I retorted. “It’s called manual labor.”
For a moment, Ben just sat there looking at me with narrowed eyes. I raised both of my hands.
“You use these for it.” I grinned.
“Nice... Had another one, huh? You should consider writing late-night show jokes. Maybe then you’d not have to drive that widow maker. It’s called ambition. You should give it a try.”
I was ready to fire back at him, but much to my surprise, his car door opened, and he stepped out.
“All right. Let’s see what’s wrong with it,” he said, walking over.
“It won’t start. Can you not see that?”
He sighed. “Fine. Step aside.”
“For what? We should push it together so we—”
“Won’t be necessary,” he interrupted me and moved over to the front of my car. Folding up the lower sleeves of his elegant white shirt, he revealed his muscular arms. For a brief moment, I pictured them holding a model’s naked body, but I quickly snapped out of it thanks to the unstoppable amusement that formed inside me.
Benjamin trust-fund-baby Radcliff. There was no way he could fix my car.
He popped the hood and winced when he felt just how hot it was. My smirk grew wider.
Rich boy doesn’t know what he’s doing.
“Hmm,” he mumbled and leaned over the engine, examining it. “Car’s overheating. Is your AC working?” His voice came out low over the hood.
“No.”
“Just as I thought. Let me try something really quick.”
He walked around my car and got in on the driver’s side. I smirked and grunted again, loudly this time.
