“We used to catch frogs. I always wanted to keep them, but my parents made me put them back.”
“Don’t tell me, you caught fireflies in summer and put them in jars?”
“Yes.” She shoots me a skeptical glare. “Are you poking fun?”
“No. I thought those things only happened in movies or books.”
“It might’ve been simple, but I had a good childhood.” A good childhood. I don’t even know what that looks like, but it explains the joy she exudes when she lets her guard down. I don’t want her to stop, but as we pull into the lot for Americana she twists to place the puppy back in its crate. “Here.” She digs through her bag and produces a badge.
I show it to the security guard and then Rachel points out directions until we’re pulling up to the building. A foreboding sense of dread settles over me as I realize this is where we part. The car ride was pleasant enough, but I’m not foolish enough to believe she’ll agree to seeing me again. Not unless I bribe her with puppy time. That idea is as irrational as my need to get to know her.
“Thanks, Jude. I really appreciate the ride.” She slips off her seat belt and opens the door.
I shift the SUV into park. “Let me help you with your bags.”
“Oh, you don’t have to.” She waves me off.
Right. A scowl forms at the thought of allowing her to struggle with her bags while I sit in the air conditioned vehicle. I might be a prick sometimes, but my mother raised me with manners. I keep the engine running and make it around to the back lift gate before she does. When her mouth opens—most likely to argue against my help—I pin her with a glare.
She steps back and allows me to stack her bags.
“Thank you.” She blows out an exhale, as if the words are difficult. I’d guess Rachel doesn’t accept help easily, or from just anyone.
That knowledge only fuels my desire to provide her assistance. “Give me your keys.”
“Why?” Her brows narrow with her frown, and she stands tall with defiance.
“So I can get your metal deathtrap off the freeway.”
“I’m not giving you my keys.”
“Why? Worried I’ll steal her?” I joke, then wonder if that’s true. Do I look that desperate? I’m wearing Armani. I hold out my hand, palm open, and meet her challenging glare with one of my own. “Give me the keys. I’ll get it towed to a reliable mechanic.” I don’t know why I’m so insistent to help, but I want to do this for her. Okay, so my intentions are not completely altruistic. I want much more from her than conversation, but that’ll never happen without an excuse to see her again.
She studies my expression, then sighs with obvious defeat as she digs through her bag and produces a lanyard with a set of keys. She works the Buick’s off of the silver circle and hands it over. “I don’t have a lot of money.”
“I’m sure we can work something out.” With her key tucked safely in my pocket, I try not to grin. I won. I love winning.
Her mouth falls open and she gasps. “Look, I don’t know what you mean by that, but I don’t trade sexual favors for car repair.”
Shit. My eyes widen. “No!” I hold up my hands, attempting to rein in my laughter. “That’s not at all what I meant.” Interesting. For as put off as she is, she was thinking it. “Though I love where your mind is.”
Her nostrils flare. “I changed my mind. Give me back my key.”
“No take backs.” I take a step away, my lips curling with my triumphant smile.
“What are we, ten?” She rolls her eyes.
“Tell me, do you have a problem accepting help from everyone, or is it just me?” Clearly my words strike a nerve.
“Excuse me?”
“I’m offering to help. Out of the goodness of my heart.” And the hardness of my dick. “And you’re offended.”
“I’m not offended. I—”
“So it’s me, then?”
“I don’t like being indebted. To anyone.” She grips the handle to her mammoth cart of makeup. “I need to get to work and I really don’t owe you an explanation.” She turns and begins walking.
I admire the view a long moment before calling after her. “What time do you get done?”
She twists and meets my gaze. “Pardon?”
“What time do you finish work?” I enunciate clearly, then hold up my hands at the return of her angry glare. “It’s only a question, sweetheart.”
“I should be done by six.”
“I’ll be back then to pick you up, and I’ll call you with any updates from the mechanic.”
“I—”
“Don’t try to argue with me, Rachel. I always get what I want. See you at six.”
“I—”
But I don’t stick around to give her further chance to debate. Instead, I turn on my heel and head back to my ride with more pep in my step than I’ve had all year.
“Okay, pups. You ready to go see your new home?” Excitement thrums through my body as I weave my way back onto the main road, and it has nothing to do with the payday coming once I deliver the mongrels. No, it has everything to do with the promise of more face time with my sultry, feisty, reluctant hitchhiker. I’ll win her over. My mechanic will fix up that hunk of metal, and Rachel will be so appreciative she’ll have to agree to a date. If I’m lucky, she’ll beg for it. I wasn’t lying when I told her I always get what I want. Right now, I want her.
6
Rachel
Jared: OMG what’s with the hottie? I’m taken, but he’s
