Page 22 of Loathe at First Sight

“Well, thanks,” she mutters so quietly that I almost miss it.

“You’re welcome,” I reply in a volume that I’m sure she hears.

My eyes occasionally glance up to look her over. This woman doesn’t look like the same one I saw yesterday. This one doesn’t have on a ton of makeup or any fancy clothes. Her hair that was straight before is now pulled up in a ponytail of crazy curls. She's ditched the long, fake eyelashes, and she just has on some athletic clothing.

I like this version of her better.

Not that I actually like either one of them. I’m sure she’s still the same spoiled brat underneath it all.

I’m not paying too much attention to what I’m grabbing until something catches my eye. Something very small.

And lacy.

And black.

Using one finger to hold it by the very thin strings, I hold up a thong.

Liz glares at me while reaching over to grab it off of my hand. “Don’t get any ideas.”

Too late.

Liz Lawson may be the last person on Earth that I want to take to bed, I bet she looks sexy as hell in this little thing.

I can’t hide the sly smile that curls up one corner of my lips.

Liz takes notice and asks, “Why are you smiling? Is this your first time seeing women’s underwear?”

“Nope. I just didn’t think you’d be the type to wear thongs.”

“Why’s that?”

“Didn’t think it would be too comfortable with that giant stick you have up your butt.”

She rolls her eyes. “Ha. Ha. Ha. You’re hilarious.”

“I know, right?” I say in the tone of a teenage girl.

She starts moving quicker, clearly ready to get away from me. That’s alright. The feeling’s mutual.

The final thing that I grab is a t-shirt. Problem is that something seems to be wrapped up within the fabric. The way I grab it makes whatever is inside come toppling out. I watch Liz’s eyes go wide almost in slow motion, looking at whatever it is.

When I follow her line of sight, I now understand the look on her face. On the sidewalk sits a large black vibrating dildo.

I cock one eyebrow as I look at the toy. I could say something about it. Hell, I have a million things sitting right on the tip of my tongue. But I can only imagine how embarrassing this must be for her. I’d be upset if someone opened up my internet browser and saw the porn I was watching.

So, I decide to just keep my mouth shut.

As she picks it up and wraps it back in the t-shirt, she asks, “Not going to say anything about that?”

“Nope,” is all I give in response.

I grab two of her bags and hand them to her as she gets them situated in her mom’s car. I recognize it because I’ve been doing oil changes on it ever since I opened up my shop.

When I’ve handed her the last one, I say, “I’ll try to look at your car today and let you know what I find. How do you want me to get ahold of you?”

“Just call the bar. I’m sure my parents can relay the message. And take your time. It’s not like I’m going anywhere.” The last statement seems like it’s more just for her rather than me.

“Alright.” Not wanting to prolong this any more than we need to, I walk inside.

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