Page 17 of Wild Hearts

A pile of dirty clothes overflows my hamper, which means it’s time for one of my least favorite chores. And no matter what time I go to the laundromat, there’s a crowd of people, making privacy an impossibility.

Add that to my list of requirements for a future home: a laundry room.

Thankfully, the parking lot only has two other vehicles when I arrive. Maybe I got lucky, and this is the prime time to go.

Mentally crossing my fingers, I grab a cart from inside and wheel it to my car to load up the heavy plastic hamper along with the pillows and comforter I brought.

The metal basket rattles over the concrete as I guide it toward the laundromat’s front doors—manual ones rather than automatic.

Who thought requiring patrons to swing the door open while simultaneously shoving a heavy cart over the bump of the door frame was a good idea?

This really is a two-person job.

Too bad I’m a single woman, and Elsie went to her parents’ for the weekend.

Someone pushes the door open from the inside.

"Thanks!" My grateful smile falters at seeing Wes holding the door for me. I haven’t seen him since our impromptu kiss at the Apple Fest carnival two weeks ago—which isn't to say I haven't thought about him.

No, it seems I can't shake the man out of my head, and it doesn't help that Elsie keeps bringing him up.

She’s still high from Avery taking her advice about dating Dominic and ending up freaking engaged. Now, my roommate likens herself to some sort of relationship guru, and I’m next in line for a sprinkle of her magic.

Wes grabs the other end of my cart and lifts it over the ledge like it weighs nothing. "You're welcome. I saw you coming in, so I thought I'd help."

“Excuse me.” A young mother with her kid in tow stands behind Wes with a mountain of folded clothing in her cart, waiting for me to move, so she can leave.

Offering an apology to the woman, I wave to Wes before escaping to the large industrial washers in the back, preferring to toss everything into one giant machine rather than separating items out the proper way. All of my clothes run on cold anyway, and if every once in a while, I have a white cami come out pink, I’m willing to accept that consequence.

After throwing everything in, I survey my seating options. An older lady is reading a magazine at one end of the row of chairs along the wall while Wes is on his phone at the other end.

You kissed the man. Now, you’re too afraid to sit by him?

Rolling my eyes at the silliness, I choose a chair one over from Wes. It gives us space but not enough to seem like I’m ignoring him.

Not that I am.

I’m just… flustered. Men don’t kiss me out of the blue like that, especially not bearded mechanics with tattoos for days, and a penchant for coming to my rescue.

Determined to remain casual, I find my reading tablet and jump back into Northanger Abbey after deciding to take a break from my usual sexy romances. I needed to cleanse the palette, so to speak, by reading a classic. And Jane Austen is nothing if not a classic.

"What are you reading?"

Jolted out of Catherine and Mr. Tilney's first meeting, I glance up to find Wes studying me curiously. "Northanger Abbey by Jane Austen."

"Never heard of it." He shakes his head. The shaggy ends of his hair brush across his shoulders, and my fingers itch to run a hand through the thick strands.

I shrug off the inappropriate compulsion. “It doesn't get as much press as Pride and Prejudice or Sense and Sensibility." A blank look overtakes his features. "Tell me you’ve at least heard of Pride and Prejudice? Elizabeth Bennet? Mr. Darcy?"

"Nope. But I don't really read for fun. I stick to my textbooks."

Textbooks? Is he attending college while running Dusty’s?

"What about English class, though? Austen seems like required reading, which would be textbook-adjacent."

Wes chuckles, showing off a glimpse of his smile. It’s too bad he’s getting glaring lines rather than laugh lines, because he’s got a sexy laugh, deep and rumbly like a jungle cat’s purr.

"I’ll take your word for it. What does she write?"

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