Page 23 of Never Date A Player
Fuuuck.
My AAA membership has expired and my car won’t start—and by won’t start, I mean it’s dead. Won’t turn over, or even cough for me. “Yeah, okay,” I tell her.
Nessa pulls out her phone and types a text. “Zach’s on his way. He’s still close. See?” She smiles. “No biggie.”
It is a big deal. A very big deal, because moments later Lewis walks up, along with Zach.
I stood up to Lewis. Sure, I immediately took a digger, but it was a start at addressing the issue between us. Forced to ask said guy for assistance afterward? Kind of ruins the moment. The dunking in ice-cold water did as well, but this seals it.
To make matters worse, Lewis is wearing a T-shirt and a baseball hat that hides his eyes. Why does the brim hiding those mysterious eyes make my stomach flutter?
I roll down the window and Lewis leans across the frame, because, of course, he takes control of the situation, even though we called Zach.
“Start it up.”
I turn the ignition and nothing happens.
He tosses a set of keys to Zach. “Grab the Jeep, will you? I’ve got jumper cables in the back.”
Zach hands his paddleboard to Nessa, who stepped out of the car when the guys arrived. He laughs when she nearly topples under the weight of the board that’s twice her size. She fumbles with the long paddle, finally balancing both paddle and board in her arms. “Be right back,” Zach calls.
Lewis strums his fingers lightly along the door, glancing at the interior, the dark eyes that disturb me no longer hidden by the hat when they’re this close. “You leave on a light?”
Does he think I’m a moron?
I fell all over the nightclub hammered a few nights ago and dunked us today, so yes, he probably does. “No.”
Lewis stares like he doesn’t believe me and continues to drum his fingers. I’d like to grab one and pull it back. Incite—that’s what he does. He’s an inciter of women. Look at Mira. She’s so crazy for him, she’s all jacked up.
A red Jeep roars in front of my car with Zach in the driver’s seat. Lewis walks to the back and returns with cables. He asks me to pop the hood.
Several minutes later, Lewis and Zach confer in a manly discussion involving subtle nods, gesticulations toward my beater car, and a few glances at Nessa and me after the jumper cables don’t work.
Lewis opens the driver’s-side door at the same time Zach grabs the paddleboard from Nessa. “Your car needs a tow.”
There go last night’s tips. I could ask my mom for money to fix the car, but I won’t.
“Zach is giving Nessa a ride. I’ll drive you home.” He punches a number in his phone and informs the person on the other line of our location.
I’m driving with Lewis? Alone? “Shouldn’t I wait for the tow truck?”
He shoves the phone back in his pocket. “No need. My friend will have it towed to his shop later on. We’ll swing by now and drop off the keys. He’ll call when he figures out what’s wrong with it.”
I glance at Nessa elbowing Zach playfully as they walk toward the beach, the paddleboard and paddle balanced easily above Zach’s head.
This is all wrong. “Why is Nessa going with Zach?”
“He lives near her. It’s easier this way.” Lewis gestures for me to get out of my car. I grab my tote, scoot out, and he closes the car door behind me. I follow him to the Jeep and he opens the passenger-side door.
I peer in, uncertain, but unable to come up with a better plan. Spending more alone time with Lewis doesn’t seem wise. “What happened to your truck?” I ask.
“This is my weekend car.”
Oh, right, because he’s extremely hot, makes enough money to own two cars—one of them a brand-new Jeep—and he’s a Good Samaritan who rescues drunken women and destitute girls with broken-down cars.
But he has a complicated not-a-girlfriend and that’s the one thing I can’t look past.
Despite my hesitancy, I go with Lewis. We drop off my keys with the mechanic, and Lewis introduces me to his friend. The guy is nice and promises to pick up my car and contact me within the hour. If I end up getting it fixed through his garage, there’s no charge for the tow, which my savings account appreciates.
