Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 69823 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69823 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
“It’s okay, Blaise,” I mimicked my father’s voice. “There’s nothing wrong with this car.”
I kicked it again for good measure. “Nothing wrong with it my ass.”
I looked at the POS in disgust. Piece of shit—my nickname for it.
It was… smoking.
Was it on fire?
I looked at it with revulsion, then pulled out my phone and called my father.
“You’re never going to freakin’ guess what my POS is doing right now,” I said as he answered.
“Driving like the good transportation that it is?” My father’s amused voice filled the air around me.
“No,” I immediately disagreed. “It’s smoking. Like, it’s on fire, billowing smoke into the sky for people miles away to see.”
There was a long pause and then, “What did it do before it broke down?”
I frowned. “Actually, it didn’t break down. It was just billowing smoke so hard into the cab of the vehicle that I thought maybe it wasn’t a good idea to keep driving since I couldn’t see.”
He laughed. “Bring it home, and I’ll take a look.”
“I’ll just buy a snorkel and goggles. Maybe just drive with my head hanging out the window. I’ll be there in three hours,” I drawled.
Dad snickered.
“I can come up and look at it tomorrow. Have it towed to Johnny’s place. I’ll use his garage,” he mused.
The loud sound of sirens wailed on his end, and I sighed. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Daddy.”
“Tomorrow, baby. Love ya.” Then he was gone, going to do what he loved best.
My father was a forty-year veteran of the Benton Fire Department. He’d started out as a firefighter, then EMT basic and then worked his way all the way up to chief. Now the only time that he got in the back of an ambulance was when they were short four paramedics or there was a big emergency that required all-hands-on-deck.
He loved his job, and I loved him.
I pressed my hand over my still flat belly and wondered if Sin would have the kind of relationship with our child like Johnny and I had with our father.
I sure the hell hoped so, because I knew how much my relationship with my dad meant to me, and I wanted the same for my child. Whether that baby was planned or not.
My next phone call was to a towing company who said that they would be here in ten minutes, leaving me standing on the side of the road with a smoking car and nowhere to go.
Surprisingly, not a single person stopped.
They slowed down, sure.
But stop they did not.
At least until the latest one.
I was in the process of giving my car a lecture when I heard it.
The familiar sound of a motorcycle engine.
It was something that had been ingrained in me since before I’d even been born.
The sound was distinct.
And what made it even more distinct was the fact that I could tell what type it was based solely on the sound of the pipes.
I didn’t bother turning around.
Instead, I did what any sane woman would do.
“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” I grumbled as I kicked the car again. “I swear to God. This is what happens when I try to be the good guy. I get shafted, and not in a good way.”
Just as I heard the motorcycle turn off, I turned to find Sin sauntering toward me with a look of worry on his face.
“What happened?” he asked, looking at the smoking car.
The car that was literally putting out less smoke now than it had been before he’d arrived.
I narrowed my eyes.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “My car’s a freakin’ lemon. It just… hates me.”
His lips turned up slightly at one corner. “What happened this time, specifically, though?”
I looked at the vehicle that was now no longer smoking at all.
What the absolute hell?
“I pulled over because it was smoking,” I admitted. “It was coming through the air conditioning vents. Then when I pulled over and popped the hood, it started pouring out so fast that I was really worried it was on fire. Now it’s… not.”
It was just sitting there, looking innocent.
What the crap?
His amused eyes turned to me, and my entire body did a full stretch at the sight of him standing there looking so hot.
God.
In the time that he’d gotten out of prison—four weeks to be exact—he’d gotten sexier.
How was that possible?
His moss-green eyes were leveled on me, and he was staring at me like he knew all of my secrets.
I fidgeted.
His eyes warmed as he said, “Do you need a ride somewhere?”
I looked at his bike, then looked at him, and thought, Oh hell no.
“My brother is on his way,” I lied. “And the tow truck driver should be here any second.”
Speaking of, said tow truck driver rolled up moments later and got out, grinning at me.
“Hey, girl,” he said as he got out of the truck. “It givin’ you trouble again?”