Page 75 of The Body Checker

“Uh…” I search for my words, my hard cock interfering with my brain process.

Her eyes fly back to mine. “The car, I mean. Will it take long?” she explains, like I’d misunderstood what she’d meant the first time. I didn’t. I just had my mind on other things that likely wouldn’t take long, you know, because of the huge hard on I’m sporting at eight in the morning.

I check my watch. “Not long, but I won’t be able to get at it for a bit.”

She blinks thick lashes over the prettiest brown eyes I’ve ever seen. “Um…how much will it cost, do you think?”

Her breathy question has me thinking about plunging my hands through her hair and bending her over the hood so I can fulfill all my dirty college-girl fantasies. All I can think about is fucking her until her roommates hear her screams.

“Have you noticed the temperature gauge going high?”

“Yeah, when I was at the stoplight last week, I noticed that.”

“Well then, it’s not the spark plugs that are going to set you back. It’s the radiator. It needs to be replaced.”

“Oh…damn.” She chews on her bottom lip and crinkles her nose. That’s when her scent hits me. Peaches. Why the fuck does she have to smell like sweet peaches? My goddamn favorite fruit. “Maybe we better forget this.”

She starts to back away, and I have no idea why, but I’m not ready for this conversation to be over. “Look, I can probably get you a good deal on one, cut your costs in half, and I can do the labor for free.”

Jesus, what the fuck am I doing?

“I can’t—”

Just then Cassie sticks her head out the upstairs window. “Daddy, I can’t find my shoes.”

I shade the early morning sun from my eye and my heart misses a beat the way it always does when I see my little girl. “We came in the back door last night, remember?”

“Right.”

Cassie disappears and I hear my neighbor mumbling under her breath. Apparently, a broken-down car, one she can’t afford to have fixed, is going to make her late for class.

I shove the rag back into my pocket and close the hood. “What time do you need to be there?”

She blinks up at me. “What?”

The lock clicks into place. “School. What time do you have to be there?”

“Thirty minutes.”

“I can get you there on time.” I nod toward the window my daughter just stuck her head out of. “I’ll drop Cassie off, then take you.”

She shakes her head fast. “I don’t want to put you out like that.”

Put me out? Oh, she can put me out anytime, or better yet, put out for me.

I scrub the scruff on my chin. “It’s not a problem…uh...shit, I don’t even know your name.”

“Rachel,” she says.

“Jaxon.” I hold a hand out for her to shake it, and she hesitates, going back to shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Cassie does that when she has to go to the bathroom. But I don’t think that’s Rachel’s problem. Tension vibrates from her, and I take in the almost fearful way she’s staring at my hand. Why the fuck is she afraid of me? Is it the murder rap her friends were talking about, or is it something else altogether?

I eye her carefully, note the way she continually casts uneasy glances over her shoulder as she shifts. I might be on the straight and narrow now, but over the years I’d be dragged up and kicked around. I’d survived playground bullies, cruel foster parents, and poverty, so yeah, I know a girl on the run when I see one.

“Jaxon Morgan,” I say and continue to hold my hand out, and think back to the night she showed up here, with nothing but a rundown car and her belongings in a backpack. No family or friends to help. While I realize trouble is the last thing I need in my life—with the in-laws trying to prove I’m an unfit parent—I can’t just turn my back on her. I’m not looking to be anyone’s savior, but Christ, it’s obvious this girl could use a fucking break.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Rachel.” I roll one shoulder as a strange kind of protectiveness grips me. “Just offering a ride and a deal on some car work. We’re neighbors after all, right?”

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