Page 7 of Enticing

When it rains, it pours.

Literally... the first fat freezing drop of rain falls, splashing against my windshield.

I’ve got a little over a month before my next book is due to my editor, and my muse has dried up and died. That bitch has deserted me like almost everyone else I’ve ever depended on. I’ve got a baby girl at home who doesn’t want to sleep unless she’s being held, collection calls coming in on an obnoxiously regular basis, and if I thought I could get away with living off ramen for the next few weeks before the holidays, I’d give it a shot just so I could have extra money for Christmas presents for the girls... Well, that and heat.

Basically, I’m a mess, and this stupid car not starting can’t actually be happening now.

I want to refuse to believe it. Positive energy into the universe and all that bullshit, but it turns out that’s exactly what it is. Bullshit. I push the button again and drop my head against the steering wheel when nothing happens.

Some days, I pray for silence. Just a few minutes. Show me a mother who doesn’t, and I’ll show you a liar. Even still, today isn’t that day.

Right now, I’d take my noisy car over silence in a heartbeat.

“Mom...?” Izzy asks, thankfully oblivious in the back seat, but I don’t lift my head.

Not yet. “Just give me a second, Izz.”

“But Mom . . .”

“Izz,” I snap, then soften my voice. “Mommy needs a minute. Just one.”

A fist knocks against my window, and I jump and bang my knee against my steering wheel just as a velvety deep voice follows, “Need some help?”

Damn it.

Tears burn the back of my exhausted eyes, but I absolutely refuse to let them fall because of course, it’s the hot coach from earlier.

Why wouldn’t it be?

I’d love to know exactly what I did in a previous life to piss off the universe as much as I must have.Becauseseriously? One break... just give me one freaking break.

“Mom, it’s Leo,” Izzy squeals, and I cringe as I look up.

“It sure is, Izz,” I groan and push down my window button, which of course won’t go down. Why would it when the engine won’t even start? I glance through the glass at the handsome man on the other side and suddenly feel utterly defeated.

Stupid zing.

Another fat drop of sleet hits the car, but Leo doesn’t budge. His big, baby-blue eyes stare down at me because of course, even standing outside my SUV in the icy rain, this man still towers over me.

How tall does that make him?

Does it matter? Between the dark hair, baby blues, muscles big enough to make him look like he could bench-press a tank, and his delicious height, he could definitely be a book boyfriend in the making. Hmm...

I mean, he already sounds a lot like Hogan James, the hero in my newest work in progress,Enticing.

Maybe Hogan should be a hockey player.

Eventually, I give in and crack open the door to answer him. “We’re fine, thanks.” The lie slips off my tongue with a big, fat, fake smile plastered on my face.

“Didn’t sound like it,” he croons, and yes, I totally hear what that sounds like. His damn voice should be on a Christmas album, it’s so smooth. “Pop your hood.”

“Seriously...? You teach little kids to skate and what—work on cars in your spare time?” Okay, snarky is my go-to defense mechanism. So sue me.

Instead of getting pissed, Leo’s lush lips tip up on one side in a sexy, crooked smile.

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

“Nah. I know a couple of things, but not enough to fix much. Just pop it and let me see if it’s something easy like fluids.” He shoves his hands in his pockets, warming them up, and I notice the puff of steam coming from his words.

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