Page 21 of Screwed (Dad Bod Contracting 4)
I nod. “I think I understand that part.”
“And I mean…yeah, you’re a beautiful woman, but that ain’t why I’m giving it to you. I told you why. Not sure I see much point in going over it a third time.”
I nod. “Okay.”
He extends his hand. “So…twenty-five?”
“Deal.”
We shake hands, and I quickly let go of his—not fast enough, though; I feel the sting and tingle and hum of energy rippling between us, lingering on my skin, sizzling up my palms like arcing electricity.
Ten minutes later, I’ve got the title, he’s got a check for twenty-five grand, and I’m on the way to the nearest secretary of state to transfer the plate from my Explorer, and get my new truck registered.
Two hours later, I’m finally back home, new truck in the driveway and feeling pretty excited. Only now, I’m wondering if I opened a can of worms with James that I might end up regretting.
Chapter 5
My phone rings as I’m on the way home from work a week later; it’s been a busy week and I haven’t seen any of my friends, as I’ve worked back-to-back doubles twice this week.
I answer. “Hello?”
“Nova. It’s James.”
I hesitate. “Uh. Hi, James. What’s up?”
He’s the one to hesitate now. “I…wanted to check in and see how you’re liking the truck.”
“Oh. It’s amazing. I love it. It kinda guzzles gas, but I live pretty close to the hospital so it’s not a huge issue. That’s really the only downside.” I laugh. “I’ve gotten a lot of compliments on it.”
“I bet.”
“And by compliments, I mean graphic sexual propositions and wolf whistles.”
“Don’t you get those anyway?” he asks. “Woman who looks like you do, I’d think you would.”
I blush, but thankfully he can’t see that. “I…well, yeah. But the truck has easily doubled it, and they’ve gotten even more grotesquely graphic.”
He grumps a coarse laugh. “Not surprised. Like I said, a gorgeous woman in a badass truck is a killer combo.”
“Unwanted male attention aside, I do love driving it. I’ve even started to like the experience of climbing into and out of it. It’s like my own mobile command center or something. Boss bitch of the road!”
Another hesitation from James. “I also, um…I remember you saying you’d been saving for a remodel of your house.”
“Yeah?”
“We’re wrapping up the jobs we’re contracted for at the moment. I’ve got some bids out and a few others lined up, but you being part of the inner circle or whatever, I thought I’d offer you a slot on the schedule.” He sighs. “I’m fumbling this. What I’m saying is, if you wanted, I could swing by your place and you could tell me what you’re looking for.”
“Do I get an inner circle discount?”
“Nah. Full price, babe. Sorry.” He laughs. “Kidding. Of course you do.”
I give it a moment of thought; I was thinking of putting it off another year or two to save more for it so I wouldn’t have to settle for less in terms of what I want. But I spent a good ten or twenty grand less than I was assuming on a new car, so there’s that to consider…
“Sure.” I give him my address and we agree to meet at my house in fifteen minutes.
I’ll be home in three minutes, but I need time to change out of scrubs and tidy up a bit before he gets here. The other downside of owning a lifted beast of a truck is that it doesn’t fit in my garage, as it’s a tiny old detached thing with a super low roof—my Explorer barely fit inside, and the truck is too tall by a couple of inches. It’s got a remote start, though, so warming it up in the winter will be easy.
I park in the driveway, climb down, and head inside to change. It’s a warm summer day, so I change into cotton shorts and a T-shirt, leaving my feet bare. And yes, this time I’m wearing a bra, so I’m not indecent…to James’s chagrin, probably, but we did agree to ignore the chemistry and just stay friends, as he so recently reminded me.
Which is a little hard to do, and harder when I’m suddenly seeing him more than I’m used to. Harder yet to do, because every now and then I get a flash of memory from that stupid pool party; he kissed me in his kitchen, and the kiss turned into me with my back to the fridge and his huge body up against mine. It ended almost before it started, though, and we were both somewhat dumbfounded—by the intensity of the kiss, and by the fact that both of us immediately felt…weird about it. Awkward. A little guilty, maybe. And fraught with a wicked chemical, sexual, highly combustible tension I don’t think either of us knows how to deal with.
