Page 55 of Fastlander Fallen

Well touché, and she had no response for that. She did like bossy.

“Get in the truck, Corey.”

Her shoulders slumped forward at the sexiness in his demanding voice. “This is not fair.”

“I’m going to take you to lunch for meeting me out here. Then I’ll take you to get your nails done, my treat. You’ll get them painted bright red, and when we’re done, I’ll bring you back to your car. Get in.”

She resisted him for all of three seconds before she shook her shoulders in an excited shiver and murmured, “Yes, sir,” and then grabbed her purse from her car, locked it, and scrambled around the front of the truck. He appeared out of nowhere and opened her door for her, and now she was pretty sure she felt a full-blown crush consuming her.

He was biting back a smile. “Did you say ‘yes sir?’”

“It was an accident.”

“Careful with that,” he warned.

She scrunched up her face and clasped her hands in front of her chest. “Does it make you want to touch my boobies?”

“Get in,” he said, fighting a laugh.

“Yes s—”

“Don’t.”

She waggled her eyebrows at him.

“What do you need?”

She tilted her chin up and puckered her lips.

His hand went gently around her throat and he pressed his lips to hers, let the kiss linger before he pulled back. “You’re trouble.”

“With a capital T. Can I pick the lunch spot? I’m hungry for gravy.”

His lips were still mere inches from her, and she could feel the vibration of his laugh move through her. “Sure.”

“The restaurant is called Dingleberries,” she announced as she turned and scrambled into the cab of his truck. Gads, this thing was a million feet off the ground. Good thing she had been doing yoga. She sent a little thank-you to the heavens that her jeans didn’t rip at the crack.

“Did you just say the restaurant is called Dingleberries?” he asked, standing there with a confused look on his face.

“Sprinkleberries. Did I say Dingleberries?”

“Yeah, you did.”

She belted out a laugh. “I am so cute. Come on, stud muffin, momma needs biscuits.”

As Ace walked around the front of the truck, he was pinching the bridge of his nose like he was warding away a headache, but she could still see his smile, so she was probably good.

She pulled a water bottle out of her purse and put it into the cupholder, then pulled out some hand lotion, squirted it onto her palm, and rubbed it into her hands. When she was done, he was pulling out of the parking lot, but he slowed and stopped to watch her shove her little hand lotion into the glove box.

“What are you doing?”

“This is my side,” she explained. “Now if you try to make out with some hussy in here, she will find all of my stuff in here and know she isn’t special.”

He just stared at her.

She plucked a single hair from her head and slowly dropped it onto the floorboard.

“Oh my God,” he said, biting back a smile. “What is wrong with you?”

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