Page 40 of When love and Hate Collide

With a sigh, I nose around the car, rifling through the middle panel to see if his phone is there and see nothing. Unbuckling my seatbelt, I lean over to check the side of the door when I accidentally press my hand against the horn. The loud sound of the horn startles me, and Dean too when he jumps and knocks his head on the hood of the car with a dull‘thunk’followed by a “Fuck!”

Whoops.

“JJ!” I see Dean’s head emerge from the side of the hood, his handsome face contorted while he glares daggers at me and rubs the back of his head. “What the hell are you doing?!”

I press my lips together to hold back the laugh that is just bursting to come out of me. “What? It was an accident!”

Dean rolls his eyes, lets out a couple choice expletives and drops the hood, still rubbing the crown of his head as he walks back to the car. “Please tell me you fixed it?” I ask hopefully, but all promise gets shot to hell when he scowls at me like he was about to reach over and rip my throat out.

“No, I didn’t bloody fix it, JJ.” He gripes irritably. “The alternator belt fucking snapped.”

I bite the inside of my cheek, “Well, call roadside recovery then. My phone is dead,” I tell him, and he reaches into his back pocket and pulls his phone out. I eye him while he flips his phone open, farts around with it for a second or two and grumbles under his breath.

“So is mine,” he slaps the phone shut again with a groan.

Laughing bitterly, I cross my arms over my chest and shake my head, snarling sardonically. “Of course, am I shocked? No, absolutely not because why would anything go right for me.”

Dean exhales from beside me. “Relax, we'll just catch a ride with someone that drives by to a phone booth or service station.”

I give him a sidelong stare, “What ride nitwit? Have you seen one car pass by within the last half hour that we’ve been here?”

Dean turns his head to glare at me menacingly, his jaw set tight, so much so that I can see it ticking furiously even in the dark. “Are you incapable of keeping your mouth shut and not bitching for a goddamn second?”

My anger flares, “No, I’m fucking not.” I almost scream out of frustration. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m frustrated Dean. You’re the last person in the world I would ever want to be stranded with.” Dean rolls his eyes for the millionth time.

“You’re frustrated? Have you met yourself? Do I look as though I’m elated about being stuck with you all night?!” he responds irately. “If you’re adamant on being a bitch about it, by all means, walk home and let’s see how far you get.”

I tap my foot tetchily. I’m feeling more aggravated than usual by him and this insufferable heat isn’t helping my mood either. I hate how bitchy and whiney I sound right now, I’m not usually this short-tempered. “If you maybe stayed on the main road we could have called for help by now, but no, you had to take us down some abandoned route.”

Dean taps his thumb against the steering wheel and stares out of the windshield. “It’s Saturday night, JJ. I wasn’t going to sit in traffic all bloody night. It's chaos in the city during the weekend, you know this.”

He’s right. It’s an absolute nightmare driving through the city to get back home. People drunk in the middle of the road, out clubbing till the arse crack of dawn high on God only knows what.

We sit in silence for at least five minutes, not a single car drives by and not a soul in sight. Is it just me or is this car becoming an inferno by the minute? Also, Ireallyhave to pee. I start to fidget in my seat, in an attempt to distract myself I start pulling out the gold hoop earrings I’m wearing. The sodding things are starting to feel like they’re made of lead. I pull one out and Dean sneezes scaring the bejeezus out of me. The earring I’m holding goes flying out of my hand, hits the driver’s side window and falls under his seat.

I turn to glower at him, unamused, “Sneeze louder.”

“I think the term is ‘bless you’, but thanks,” he utters, pushing his seat back further so he can stretch out his long muscular legs.

“Did you not just see my earring fall under your seat?”

“Yep.”

“Aren’t you going to get it?” I ask pointing at his feet.

Dean shrugs insouciantly, “Nope.”

And there goes my annoyance boiling over again. “What do you mean, no? Just lean down and get it, please.” I argue back.

“Nope.” He responds coolly infuriating me further. Do you see why I get short with him? How am I supposed to act like a rational, mature adult when he behaves like this knowing full well it infuriates me?

“Fine.” I relent. I refuse to spend the next couple of hours arguing with the prick. “I’ll get it myself, you useless knobhead.” I pull my boots off and tug my skirt down a little to cover my rear end as I shift in the seat. I lean forward, pushing his knees away toward the door so I could look, but I couldn’t see a damn thing. “Can you please move your ogre feet, so I can see?” Dean sighs and lifts his feet. I lean over more to feel for the earring, but my fingers brush against something else. Reaching for it I pull it out and sit up so I can see what it is.

Oh. My. God.

Dean’s gaze follows mine, and he smirks while I stare horrified at the thong in my hand… my thong. The one he tore off me amid our passion earlier in the afternoon. Shame fills me and the heat I’d been feeling moments ago quadruples, leaving my face an embarrassing shade of red.

Dean stares at the thong, licking his lower lip, a rapt look in his green eyes. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what he’s thinking about. Something deep in my stomach twists, and figments of the moment he tore this thong off me flash through my mind’s eye. I’m not liking the things my body is feeling, so I swiftly shake off the improper thoughts that creep into my mind.

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