Page 60 of Love You Always

“It’s what people do for rom-com princesses,” she deadpans.

“Fine. I deserve to be mocked for that.”

“Multiple times,” Ella emphasizes. “The mocking will continue, let’s be clear.”

I roll my eyes. “Great.”

Ella looks delighted as she directs me down a street that has nothing but warehouses lining both sides. Not a car drives down the street. The desolation screams crime scene. “Keep going. It’s down there.”

I turn the wheel of my truck down the one-way street she indicates, worried she’ll be disappointed when she sees nothing there where we can eat or do something date-worthy. “Are you sure? There’s not much?—”

“Turn here,” she says, pointing to the dilapidated bubble carwash next to a gas station. I do as instructed, taking in the sagging roof on the place and looking at the gas station in hopes that it has a mini mart where she can use the bathroom. I assume that’s why we’re here.

“If you had your heart set on sex in a gas station restroom, I’m game, but I should warn you that it probably hasn’t been mopped in a bit and guys don’t always have the best aim.”

“Ew and double ew. Are you serious?”

“Some guys don’t pay that much attention, especially in public?—”

“No, I mean, do you really think my fantasy date would be sex in a gas station bathroom? Dude, not a rom-com princess move.”

I look around, wondering what else she could possibly have in mind. “Something involving gas station snacks?”

Shaking her head, she points to the bubble wash at the end. “Drive in there, buddy. I’ve got lots of quarters.” She holds up a change purse and presses her lips together in a no-nonsense expression. I do as instructed.

Once my car is parked, Ella starts loading coins into the machine. Lots of coins. Way too many for a simple wash and rinse. “Slow your roll there. You only need a couple quartersfor each cycle. You’ve programmed that thing for, like, a half hour.”

Her eyebrows bounce. She pushes the button for the spray nozzle. And aims it straight at me.

Before I know what’s happening, I’m being pelted with a spray of water. Through the mist, I see Ella holding the nozzle like a rifle, joyously soaking me. “What the hell?” I yell, more shocked than irritated. On a blazing hot day like today, the water feels good.

“Good date, no?”

She’s grinning like the Cheshire Cat and I fucking love it.

“Oh, it’s great. But you’re way too dry.” I rush her like a football tackle, and she dodges me, squealing as she moves to the side. The water sprays the ground, and she tries to use my truck as a shield. I’m too fast and too big for her to defend herself for long.

Wrenching the spray nozzle from her hand, I turn it and aim it at her bare legs, drenching them with water as she dances from foot to foot. “Wow, that’s cold.”

“Uh-huh, gotta give as good as I get,” I remind her, holding the nozzle over my head so she can’t reach it. It doesn’t matter. The roof on top of the shed ensures that all the water spraying out rebounds back at us. We’re both soaked. Ella’s hair twirls in corkscrews around her face, curlier and longer than when it’s dry. I’m sure I look like a drowned puppy myself.

I start spraying the roof again, letting the water fall on us like summer rain, but Ella goes to the wall and starts pushing buttons. A moment later, she has the bubble brush in her hand and my spray nozzle stops shooting water.

Ella comes closer to me with the bubble brush. “We haven’t really washed down the truck. Let’s not soap it yet,” I say.

“Haven’t you figured it out yet?” she asks. “We’re not here to wash your truck.”

The mist clears around us and the image of Ella with her sly smile and that bubble brush in her hands sends a jolt of heatthrough me that dead ends at my dick. I’m hard before she sends the first spray of soap from the brush to my chest.

“Oh, my little rom-com princess is actually a naughty little housemaid,” I say as she mimes scrubbing the floors like Cinderella.

A moment later, I’m covered in a froth of bubbles. Ella points at me to turn around. She sprays more bubbles down the length of my spine and rubs circles with her hands. I’ve never felt anything hotter, never wanted a woman more than I want her.

Spinning around, I take the brush from her hands and squeeze out a stream of bubbles, painting her with them from shoulders to knees. I don’t touch her with the brush. Instead, I hang it up and return to where she stands waiting to see what I’m planning. I stand in front of her and let her wait.

And wait.

Dripping with suds, she waves a hand in front of my face. “You sleeping there, big guy?”

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