Page 4 of Drive Her Wild

“What exactly does this friend of yours do for a living?” I question, pulling into one of the wealthiest neighborhoods in Coal’s Lake.

“This one.” She points to the building on her side with a massive moving truck parked out front. Pulling the car into a spot we both climb out.

At least it’s nice out.

A freakishly warm day for this time of the year.

Glancing into the truck crammed full of boxes and furniture, my eyes are immediately drawn to a perfectly round ass—attached to the most perfect and curvaceous pear-shaped body. Everything I love on a woman’s body—thick thighs, ample hips, and a slightly tapered waist.

All perfect places to sink my fingers into.

Note to self: Thank Charlie. Then get her to hook me up with this new friend.

“She’s the new vet in town,” Charlie answers my question just as the strawberry-blonde firecracker turns around with a box in her hands.

Seriously?

This infuriating, gorgeous woman is everywhere I go.

“You said a friend, Charlie.” I exacerbate my exhale at the mere thought of helping someone who is going to be completely ungrateful for the help. “That’s your boss.”

“Like you aren’t friends with Kris?” she huffs.

“Let’s just get this over with.” I begin walking toward the truck. The moment Amaya sees me, I’m met with the same sparkling glimmer of disdain in her eyes I’m quickly growing used to.

“I thought you said your brother’s name was Jackson.” She walks past me as she addresses Charlie.

“It’s called a nickname,” I mumble to myself, feigning an eye-roll.

“How are you everywhere I go in this town?” she questions, with obvious annoyance in her tone.

“Just lucky I guess, ma’am.” I cock an eye-brow as I accentuate the word because I secretly love how much she hates it.

“I see the two of you have met,” Charlie snickers.

“The accident the other day. He’s the guy. The inconsiderate jer—”

“You backed into me,” I cut Amaya off.

The thought of leaving crosses my mind, but I can’t. Because I’m not the inconsiderate jerk she seems to think I am.

Grabbing the box closest to me, I grunt at the surprising weight of it.

Jesus. Did she pack boxes of cinder blocks?

I carry the box inside and place it a little roughly onto the floor in the great room. Standing up, I find Amaya quickly crossing the room to me with a hand on her hip and the cutest fucking scowl on her face.

“Please be careful with those!” she exclaims as she tears open the box and starts pulling out the contents.

“They’re just books.

“They’re not just books.” She eyes me up and down like I’m a fucking monster. “This box is full of autographed copies and special editions.”

“Hmm.” I can’t help but take this moment to my advantage and snark, “Maybe now you understand that I don’t drive a ratty, old truck.”

I’m intrigued to see if I can bring out the firecracker I saw the other day.

“These are collector’s editions.” She stands and waves two of the books in my face. “I can’t exactly go to the store to pick up another copy of the Pelligini Crime Daddies duet or these discreet covers of the Crumbling Empire series.”

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