Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 88057 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88057 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
“Damn.” Harley whistled again. So predictable the way every time the man pursed his lips, my dick had to take notice. “Shipping alone must have cost a pretty penny. But if you can’t spend your cash on a beauty like this, why even have it?”
“Exactly.” I laughed along with him. As long as I kept ignoring the way my body responded to his every movement, driving with him was a pure pleasure. Harley seemed to understand me without the layers of judgment or pretense my Hollywood crowd always seemed to supply. “With your mechanical know-how, you should do a restoration for yourself.”
“Maybe. I’ve thought about it a time or two. Never had much time for hobbies in the service though.”
“But now you’re retired.” I liked teasing him, liked how it made his eyes crinkle and the corners of his mouth lift.
“Real life of leisure.” He made a show of putting his arms behind his head, getting a squeak from the dog, who stood up on Harley’s big thigh.
“Hah. Come on, what would you get if you could have anything to work on?”
“1965 Stingray Convertible would be pretty sweet. Would be fun to put in a newer V8 and supercharger. Love the C2 and C3 Corvettes, but I can be tempted by a good mustang too, and I’ll always have a soft spot for Trans-Am.”
“The fact that you had such a precise answer is proof enough you need to get a project car.”
“Maybe.” He returned to petting Hercules, who let out a little snore. “Aw, look, the little guy’s asleep already.”
“It’s his morning snooze. He loves waking me up early, then going back to sleep. It’s not even eight yet.” We were still in the thick of LA morning traffic. I couldn’t wait to be clear of this bumper-to-bumper mess and show Harley what the car could really do. “But I’ve never seen him nap on someone not me before. He sure likes you.”
“Hey, I’m easy to like,” Harley said in the understatement of the century. Easy to like? More like I was struggling to find a list of things I didn’t find appealing about the man. “And it makes me a more believable fake boyfriend if your pooch can tolerate me.”
“Also true.” I kept my voice light. “Speaking of, we should work on our cover story.”
“Stick close to the truth,” he advised with the easiness of someone who’d clearly done undercover work before. “Say we met on set. I do security consulting for the network, and we became buds.”
“Okay, colleagues to friends to something more works for me. Less to remember. And to be honest, I met my last two boyfriends in a similar fashion—makeup artist and a screenwriter.” I made a face at the thought of my graveyard of failed relationships. “Oh, that’s important too. I should know about your past relationships.”
“None.” He yawned like the present topic was boring, but I frowned.
“You mean you haven’t been married?”
“Well, yeah, that too.” He waved a hand as I wove my way around two semi-trucks hell-bent on holding up the rest of us. “But no real relationships to speak of.”
My brain couldn’t compute a guy this hot, funny, and decent with zero relationship history. “Are you trying to say you haven’t had a boyfriend? I know you said you were pan, but if you’ve never had a boyfriend, I don’t want to force you into something uncomfortable.”
“You’re not.” He groaned like I was the most tedious person on the planet. “No boyfriends, no girlfriends, or other person to write home about. I don’t do relationships.”
My eyes went so wide it was a wonder I kept the car on the road. “You don’t do relationships, but you want to play my fake boyfriend?”
Chapter Ten
Harley
“Well, when you put it that way, it sure sounds dumb.” I drummed my fingers against the dash. Ambrose acting like I needed a string of exes to be a good fake boyfriend, had me on the defensive. My voice came out more clipped than usual. “How hard can it be? You’re a nice guy. Friendly. Easy to like.”
Ambrose groaned like he hadn’t heard the compliment. “So is the barista at the drive-thru coffee place. A relationship is more involved than simply acting like you like someone.”
“Trust me, I know.” I blew out a breath slowly. I didn’t want to fight. “I’ve seen it. My parents had one of the best partnerships. Hollywood movie-level sweet. My sister got that too. And I’ve seen plenty of relationships sputter and fail because the fit wasn’t right or someone didn’t put the work in.”
“But you never wanted to try for yourself?” Ambrose’s voice was softer now, more curious than horrified.
“Not really.” I petted the sleeping dog. We had hours to the Bay Area and then a couple more after that to the small California ocean town where we’d stop for the night. I supposed I could reward Ambrose’s curiosity. “Had life gone differently, maybe I would have done the typical marry young thing so many navy personnel do. The military loves to push marriage. But my dad dying absolutely gutted my mom.”