Page 15 of Space Junk: Houston, We Have a Hottie
The hair he pushes back falls forward again when his arm drops to his side. “Look. I’m sorry. Okay?”
I’m a little surprised that he has it in him to apologize, and I almost say ‘okay’ out of some ingrained habit, but I don’t. Because his apologetic face mirrors his mad face, and though the expression does nothing to dampen his hotness, I’m mad that he seems mad that he’s apologizing. Magnificent arms be damned.
Am I even making sense anymore?
He steps closer, bringing our proximity down to a nerve-racking two feet. My earlier forwardness gone, my body freezes on me.
“You forgot these.” He holds out my keys.
I stare at his outstretched hand a minute, until what the keys mean seeps in, unlocking both my mind and mouth. “Fine. You don’t want to fix my car thatyourgirlfriend dented—fine. Just fine.” I snatch the keys, smart enough not to short circuit my brain again by touching his hand. I make a move to go around him back toward the garage. At least now I won’t have to walk.
His fingers wrap gently around my upper arm to stop me. “No, it isn’t that.”
My breath catches at the feel of his callused fingers on my skin. His hand is large enough to wrap completely around my bicep. I find this wildly erotic for some reason. It must be the heat.
“I took the car key off. You should never leave house keys with someone else. It isn’t safe.” He reaches out and fingers one of the fobs on my ring. “Plus, this looked important.”
Holy crap. I actually left my NASA token, the off-site security key clearance, behind. It enables a two factor authentication that allows me to access classified government information remotely. I mean, unless someone knows how to access NASA’s secure sever it’s probably useless in another person’s hands, but even so, I never should have left it.
“Yes.” I wrap my hand around it, grazing his. “Itisimportant.”
I turn my attention from my keys to Flynn’s face and immediately wish I hadn’t. Without the look of anger I’m so accustomed to seeing, he is ridiculously handsome. It’s like staring at one of my cowboy romance covers come to life. The sides of his eyes crinkle and a small smile plays on his lips. I shake my head a bit. Why won’t my brain work properly?
“Th-thanks.” I move to pull the keys out of his reach but his fingers close on mine and he gently pulls me closer.
Oh. His eyes aren’t just blue. They have flecks of green and a thin ring of amber around the iris like an event horizon around a black hole. I’ve always been drawn to black holes. They’re misunderstood. People think of them as destroyers, ominous orbs sucking life into the depths of their nothingness. But black holes aren’t nothing. They areeverything. Still waters running deep. Their strong gravitational pull attracts stars, particles and light. So strong is the pull of a black hole that stars will actually orbit it, drawing close to its force. Though unseen by the human eye, when a black hole and star get in close proximity, a high-energy light is made. From a telescope, this light is spectral in its beauty. Looking into Flynn’s eyes, I feel as ifIam the star, desperately trying to wallow in the pull of his gravitational singularity. Heat is radiating from us, and for once I don’t think it’s from the Texas sun.
“Jackie?”
I take a deep breath, trying to clear my head. But the smells of oil, sweat and musk only compound my delirium.
It’s the sound of David Bowie singing that finally pulls me back to reality.
“My phone,” I mumble, stepping away from Flynn to pull my phone from my bag. “Space Oddity” is my work ringtone. I clear my throat.
“Jackie here.”
The words coming through sober me from Flynn’s spell, firing my brain back online.
“I understand. When is the emergency briefing? I see. Yes. I’ll be there.” Shoot. Ten minutes. I look down the long road toward work. There’s no way I can get there in time. ButJules.I close my eyes and take a deep breath. No, Iwillget there.
“Jackie?”
I jump, startled out of my reverie. His unruly dark hair falls forward into his beautiful eyes as he looks down at me.
I blink away all thoughts of his hotness and focus on the task at hand. “Listen, I hate to ask, but there’s an emergency at work and I need to be there, like, now. Is there any way you can drive me?”
He stays quiet, his eyes probing mine.
Panic rises.
“I’ll pay you,” I add.
This might have been the wrong thing to say, going by the affronted look on his face. “You think I’d take your money for a ride? What kind of guy do you think I am?”
Well, that isdefinitelythe wrong thing to say tome. Anger mixes with my frustration and panic. I feel the woman I’d become in the garage rise and I give in to it because it’s easier and probably more efficient than giving in to the others.
“What kind of guy? I don’t know, the kind who instead of thanking the person who got Rose home safely yells at them and then threatens unwarranted violence against their person? The kind of guy who gives that same person a hard time when coming to them for help with their car after their girlfriend dented it? That kind of person?” I huff out a breath. “Never mind, I don’t have time for this. I’ll hitchhike.” I spin on my heel and stride toward the road. But before I have time to stick my thumb out, I’m lifted off my feet and thrown over a muscular shoulder.
