Page 67 of A Fighting Chance

Me:Are you ready?

Gentry:I thought you said two hours?

Lyla:I’m impatient.

Gentry:It just so happens, I’m already on the porch.

Damn.

Men are always faster, of course, but I thought my time management had been good. I wanted to beat him down there.

Me:Be right down.

I grab my purse and stuff my phone in it as I tuck it under my arm. I still myself and leave my room, getting down the stairs and through the kitchen as quickly as I can. I step out onto the porch and see Gentry standing there.

He’s leaning against the post with a bouquet of wildflowers in his hand. His lips part slightly when he sees me. “Wow,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

I step toward him as his eyes scan over me from head to toe and back up. Stopping just a few steps short of him, I take in his appearance. He’s wearing dark brown boots and a matching belt with dark denim jeans and a gray T-shirt. Not one of those regular looking T-shirts, but a nice one, coming down to a slight V-neck in the front. It’s tight on him, exposing the lines of his pecs and biceps beneath it.

“You look amazing,” I say.

“You’re beautiful,” he says.

I step closer and lean into him, inhaling his scent.

“The most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen naked,” he adds.

I laugh out loud and push against his chest. “Shut up,” I say, just before I lean up and kiss him.

“These are for you,” he says, handing me the wildflowers.

I peer down at the small violets, daisies, and honeysuckle. “Honeysuckle?” I ask, blushing and pointing to it.

He nods, smirking at our secret.

“Thank you.” I step back inside to put them in a vase of water, leaving them on the counter before joining him back on the porch.

“So, where are we going?” he asks, pulling his keys from his pocket.

“Well,” I start, “I need you to let me drive.”

“My truck?” he asks, his eyebrows shooting up on his forehead.

“I am licensed,” I tease.

“But…it’s my truck. It’s like my baby,” he says, patting the hood of his truck.

I roll my eyes at him and move my body closer to his, gettingveryclose. “Do you want me to beg?”

A shudder overtakes his body and the keys jingle in his hand. “Maybe,” he says, leaning down to kiss my neck.

“Please,” I whisper against his ear.

He straightens up and holds the keys out to me. “It’s not fair when you do that.”

I laugh and jingle the keys in a dramatic manner.

He opens the driver side door for me, chivalrous even in his surrender.

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