Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 86751 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86751 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
And the car clicks and the lights flash.
With lightning speed, I yank at the door handle and it opens. Thank god!
I collapse the umbrella, toss it across to the passenger side floor, slump into the driver’s seat, and pull the door shut behind me. Finally, something is going right.
I have no idea what I’m going to do about Rick being at the wedding, and—oh my god, I look like a raccoon! I flip down the visor to check my reflection in the lighted mirror, confirming what I caught sight of in the rearview mirror.
Big black streaks drip down from my eyes, and when I try to wipe them away, I only make a bigger mess, smearing them onto my cheeks. The free mascara sample I got at the drugstore is definitely not waterproof, and it’s going into the trash as soon as I get home.
I press the starter and hear a few hollow-sounding clicks. Another press. More clicks. All the lights on the dash are dark.
Aarrgh! My clenched fists bang the steering wheel in futile frustration as I let loose a string of curses. I don’t have the money for a car repair, and I’m sure it’s going to cost a hell of a lot more than a new vibrator.
I drop my head into my hands, fresh tears stinging my raccoon eyes, depression settling in on me heavier than it’s been in months.
Life isn’t fair! And I know it does absolutely no good to whine about it, but I just can’t catch a break, despite how hard I’m trying. What am I doing wrong, for so many bad things to happen to me?
Knock. Knock. Knock. The loud sounds make me jump. Barely visible through the rivulets of rain running down the window is a man standing right next to my car.
CHAPTER 8
MAX
The sexy sandwich shop lady is having a meltdown.
Her heated phone conversation caught my attention, her car troubles put me on alert, and I decided dinner could wait a few minutes while I made sure she was okay. She’s definitely not okay.
My brother tells me I have a savior complex, but I’d like to know what’s wrong with helping people in need—especially when they’re as gorgeous as this girl.
She’s even pretty now, wet hair matted against her cheeks, big brown eyes rimmed with red and smudged with black.
Miles won’t admit it, but it’s obvious that this girl is the reason he’s been dragging himself through the torture of yoga classes every morning.
Those big beautiful eyes are staring up at me through the glass—glaring, actually, even though she looks on the verge of shedding more tears. She moves to press the button to roll her window down, but nothing happens.
I crouch down so she can see my face better, and recognition flashes across her features.
I speak loudly to be heard through the glass. “Are you okay? Can I help?”
She opens the door a few inches. “I’m fine.”
My eyes take in the wet clothing plastered to her body, the red splotches on her neck, the tremble of her lip as she holds her head high. “I don’t mean to be rude, but that’s clearly not the case.”
“Why would you worry about being rude now?”
Ah, Miles must have made quite an impression on her. No worries. “Your car won’t start?”
She shakes her head, both in answer and in frustration, as she pushes the ignition.
“Looks like your battery’s dead. I can give you a jump.”
“That’s not necessary.”
She starts to close her door, but I grab it. “It is if you want to drive your car. It’s no problem. I’ll be right back.”
Without giving her a chance to protest, I cross to my car, climb in, and pull it over next to hers. I’m relieved to find the beach towels are still on the back seat. I grab one of them and take it over to the girl, who’s closed her door again, even though the rain has stopped for the moment.
I tap on the window again and offer up the towel, hoping that Miles hasn’t made her so angry that she’ll refuse my help. He can be terse, but he doesn’t usually alienate people.
Slowly, she opens the door, and the defeated look in her eyes feels like a punch to my chest.
“Here. Dry off.” Without a word, she takes the towel from me and blots her long, dark hair. “Stay here and relax. I’ll have you started soon, so you can get your heat going and warm up.”
To my relief, she doesn’t protest, and I get to work. When the time comes, she presses the ignition, and when her car starts, I’m rewarded with a hint of a smile that curves her pretty lips and brightens her eyes.
“Thank you. I really appreciate it.”
“No problem at all. Has this happened before recently?” She shakes her head. “Judging by the date on your battery, it’s due to be replaced.”