Page 9 of Seducing Daddy

“That’s all fine and dandy, but what am I supposed to do about the car?” she asked belligerently, arms folded stubbornly across her chest, and I gritted my teeth, irritated by her tone.

“It’s a mystery how you can have a constant chip on your shoulder and yet remain sexy at the same time. I must have something seriously wrong with my head. Let’s get somewhere safe, and we can figure out the details later,” I spat out over the storm, which raged its fury all around us.

I thanked God when she yielded and stepped inside the cab after I opened the door for her. Once in the driver’s seat, I added, “The good news is you’re out of harm’s way. That’s definitely something to be grateful for.”

She actually snorted and squeezed something resembling laughter out of her despite the undesirable circumstances, making my chest feel three times its normal size.

“You would say that,” she sassed.

“How do you mean?” I responded to her severe expression despite myself, starting the pickup and putting it into four-wheel drive to head down the drenched road back to town, powerless to resist her potent blend of snide humor, slender shape, and dark, fiery eyes that glowed and pierced.

“It’s part of your job description,” she mocked. “Perpetual cheerfulness.” Even in the near dark, I could sense her rolling her eyes, and I had the urge to swat her behind. She enchanted me completely.

Struggling to maintain an even, conciliatory tone, I lectured, “I find the more things that I am thankful for, the more things I have to be thankful about.”

She blew air past her lips, sounding like a pony blowing hay dust out of its nose.

“Laugh if you want to, but I can promise you it works.” We drove in silence for so long, I figured she was ready to drop the conversation.

I turned on my tunes to fill the hush in the truck cab, and George Michael’s “Kissing a Fool” was on my playlist.

Jolene started in on me. Thank God for my healthy ego. “George Michael? Really?”

“From the album, Faith, if you must know. 1988. It’s all about lost love.”

As if she got a sick thrill from teasing me, she replied, “I love how you state the obvious, like it’s a surprising fact.”

Irritated by her mocking tone, I ripped out the words impatiently. “How about this for obvious? Did anyone ever tell you that you’ve got a way of making a man want to take you over his knee and spank the hell out of you?”

Before I could finish silently counting to ten, she responded sharply, abandoning all pretense. “And what’s to say I wouldn’t like it if you did?”

That comeback hit me right in the solar plexus, and for the first time I could ever remember, I found myself completely without words.

Then her voice rang out with command. “Maybe that’s how you’ll ensure your gratitude guarantee? Give me something to really be thankful for.”

Her disdainful expression was just one more piece of armor she used to protect herself, and I couldn’t wait to strip her bare of it until she behaved according to my will.

I could tell I had her interest, and I’ll be damned if that didn’t make me feel as though she were actually interested in me.

We rode in silence the rest of the way to Mama’s property.

And I counted my blessings.

Most important of which was the fact that it looked like my prayers were finally about to be answered.

Chapter 6

Jolene

There was a lot you could tell about a man from his vehicle. Rex’s was an older model Toyota pickup truck, functional, and not a small-penis car trying to overcompensate for his lack in the Johnson area, as so many guys’ vehicles were. No beer cans on the floor, no butts in the ashtray, and it smelled clean.

Points all around.

“So, did you figure out the details yet?” I asked him as we rode back along the road toward town. For some reason, I constantly had the urge to bait him. Did he ever actually lose his temper? So far, there were no signs of his having one. His earlier comment about wanting to spank me didn’t count because he stated it in such a polite and even tone of voice.

Not at all the sound of a man who was about to lose his shit, a nuance I’d been trained to recognize.

What would that look like? Watching the good Reverend Pritchett lose control?

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