Page 18 of Just a Little White Lie

“I’m not an idiot.” I snatch the keys off him. “Thanks for letting me borrow your car today.”

“You’re welcome.” He chuckles and follows me down the back steps. “Do you have your wallet?”

“Yes.”

“Your shades?”

“Yes.”

“Your phone?”

“You can stop talking now, Mother!” I slide behind the wheel of his car and start it up, over-revving the engine just to get a rise out of him.

“Hey! Be careful with my car!”

I laugh and am about to grab my phone and get some tunes playing when I realize I don’t have it.

Crap!

I leave the engine running and jump out of the car.

Luke rushes after me into the house. “What’d you forget?”

“Nothing,” I mutter, speeding to my room and snatching the phone off the nightstand before walking back toward my brother.

He’s got his arms crossed and is looking all smug and “Papa knows best.”

“Shut up.” I give him a dignified smile and slip out the door, only to come face-to-face with Jack.

He’s puffing, sweaty, and taking off his saturated shirt so all I can see is a wall of beautifully sculpted muscles.

I swallow, trying to ward off the rush of desire spreading through my body.

“Ew, you stink,” I snap—my lame attempt at hiding the scorching images in my brain right now. The ones that have my hands exploring the hard planes of his back and chest.

“I’ve just been running for the last hour. How do you expect me to smell?” He bends forward, bracing his hands on his knees and putting his crafted marble shoulders that much closer to my face.

I skirt around him, not wanting his slick skin to touch my pristine dress.

I sniff again and make a face, unable to resist the teasing.

He snickers and watches me walk to Luke’s car. I can feel his eyes on me as he calls out, “It’s called Eau de Man, Swanky Girl.”

“Are you sure?” I wrinkle my nose. “I thought it smelled more like Eau de Roadkill.” I paste on a cheesy grin and enjoy his laughter as I slip into Luke’s car.

Reversing out of the driveway, I can’t help the happy little hiccup in my chest. I’m not sure exactly what’s causing it, but as “Good Morning” by Max Frost starts blaring through the speakers, I sing along, hopeful for the day ahead.

I’ve only got to last until 3:30 p.m. I can do that, right?

All I have to focus on is the fact that I’m gonna earn me some money today!

Yes!

JACK

Eau de Roadkill.

Classic!

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