Page 77 of The Fixer

“Where are your dogs?”

“They can’t drive either.”

“No, I mean, don’t you need to get home to them?”

“I thought it might be a late night, so they’re with Neve. We trade.”

Joy stared at him over her shoulder, seeming to process this information. She turned fully and faced him, balled fists on those hips where he wantedhishands. Her expression transformed to her fallback problem-solving resting face. “Can’t we call an Uber?” She shook her head. “Never mind. I forgot where we are.” As reality seemed to dawn in her eyes, she broke out in a fit of giggles. “I don’t think I’ve ever spent the night in a car. This will be a new experience. Let’s do this, Charlie Hunnicutt.”

“Where has this Joy Holiday been?” he mumbled, apparently aloud because she responded with, “I’m not sure. Hiding in her fancy Chicago condo, I suppose.”

“Well, I like this version. A lot. She’s sexy and fun. Can you keep her around for a while?”

She smirked at him. “I’ll see what I can do.”

They clambered into the back seat of the car, which was a tight squeeze for his tall frame. He folded his legs, and when they finally settled in, he splayed those legs wide. “Well, this is cozy.”

“Hmm, if you say so. Not as comfy as I imagined.” She turned her body so she faced him. The denim skirt hiked up to the tops of her thighs, and he gave himself an inner pat on the back for keeping his gaze trained on her face. “How many times have you done it in the back seat of a car?”

“Excuse me?” he spluttered.

She whacked his chest playfully. “Come on. Don’t be shy. I won’t tell.”

A hearty laugh escaped his chest. “Who are you, and what have you done with my client?”

“Ouch. So I’m back to being a client.”

“I-I didn’t mean it that way,” he stammered.

“And what way is that?”

“I have no idea. Your question made me lose my train of thought.”And so did your voice, your scent, your body, your mouth, your—

“So? Any backseat action since high school?” The parking lot’s sodium lights cast a soft amber glow over their bodies, and he watched in fascination as she twirled a hank of hair around her finger. What had she just asked him?

“Uh, no. No backseat action. As you can see, it’s not exactly easy for me to maneuver.”

Joy shrugged. “You don’t need much maneuvering if she’s straddling you. And bonus, she does all the work.” A salacious smile matched the devil lights dancing in her eyes. God, he wanted his mouth on hers. His mouth on her body. His body on hers.

His swollen shaft was making sitting in this awkward position a hundred times more uncomfortable than it already was. That word—engorged—popped into his consciousness. “Can we please change the subject?”

“Sure. What do you want to talk about?”

Several beats passed before his brain came on board. “What was your impression of the Silver Lode?” There. Thinking of the dive bar would hurry along the shrinkage he needed.

“Um …”

“I know, right?” He hitched up his shoulders in a cringe. “You don’t have to say it. The place is a dump. I apologize for this whole evening.” Well, notallof it. The feel of her ass in his hands came roaring to the fore. He shifted in his seat. “If I were going to take you on arealdate, it wouldn’t be here.” Shit, now he was talkingdates? He needed to stop his mouth from rambling, but coherent thought was difficult with his blood draining southward.

She canted her head. “Where would it be? Where do you usually take your dates?”

“Well, back when I was actually dating, it might have been Ouray. They have some nice restaurants there.” God, he sounded lame!

She paused mid-twirl. “You’re not dating? Why is that so hard for me to believe?”

Come on, brain! Engage, engage!

“Talk to me, Charlie Hunnicutt,” she prodded. “Tell me why the available ladies in two counties don’t cut it for you. Or have you been looking in the wrong places?”

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