Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 99017 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99017 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
And when I lose it, it’s not going to be a thing that’s easily contained. My balls are full to overflowing, the pressure unlike anything I’ve felt before. If I don’t do something, I’m going to make a mess all over this beautiful girl.
I’m about to ask her to give me a second, long enough to fumble for my gym bag in the back seat and find a towel, when—
A sharp knock rattles the driver’s side window.
Clover yips, her hand jerking away from my nearly-open fly, while my heart trampolines into my throat and stays there.
We freeze, eyes locking in shared horror.
For an awful second, I see exactly how this is going to go down—the cop shining a Maglite through the steamed-up glass, asking for my license and registration, while I try to explain why I’m not wearing a shirt and the truck smells like sex, if I wasn’t about to commit a crime against decency in a public parking lot. I pull Clover’s sweater down with shaking hands, mentally scrambling for some feasible excuse for the current state of affairs—I was having a heart attack, and Clover needed my shirt off to deliver CPR? I felt a spider loose in my sweater? I developed a sudden, painful allergy to cashmere?
But just as I’m about to shout “a moment, please,” a cackle filters through the door. “Don't worry, you two, it’s just me!” The silhouette of Karen’s aggressively perky ponytail bobs into view on the other side of the fogged window. “You forgot your coat, Dean, and I’m locking up early. Looks like that snowstorm is coming in sooner than they thought.”
Clover sags against me, pressing her face into my bare shoulder. “Oh my God. Thank God.” She begins to shake with soft laughter as she adds, “I told you not to leave your coat.”
“You did,” I agree before adding in a louder voice, “Thanks so much, Karen. Just…um…” I reach for my sweater, wincing as my spine twinges, protesting the awkward twist. “Just give me a second.”
I manage to get my hands on the fabric, but getting it over my head without crushing Clover proves to be harder than getting it off. I shift my hips onto the console, hoping to balance there for a second, only to cry out in surprise as something sharp jabs into my ass through my jeans.
“Don’t hurt yourselves,” Karen calls as I’m trying to figure out what the hell it was. “I’ll just leave it on the hood. Under your wiper so it won’t blow away.” She cackles again as she places the coat, definitely enjoying this. “And don’t forget your cane, sweetheart. It’s still on the ground out here.”
“Thanks, Karen,” Clover calls, reaching for the window button. The glass slides down, and cold air rushes in, sobering as a slap, as she adds, “Sorry about attacking Dean in your parking lot.”
Karen beams at her, red-cheeked and grinning in the now swiftly falling snow. I’ve seen her kick people out for “grabbing ass” at the pool table, but I guess wandering hands in her parking lot are a different story. “Not a problem, love.” Her gaze shifts my way, lingering on my chest a beat before returning to Clover with a wink. “Doesn’t look like he put up much of a fight, now, did he?”
Clover grins. “No, ma’am, he didn’t. As far as I can tell, he has no self-defense skills whatsoever.”
Karen rattles out another laugh before thrusting her arm over her head in a cheery wave. “Get home safe, you two. And don’t be strangers. You’re always welcome.”
Clover returns the wave. “Night, Karen. Thanks for the popcorn.”
“Night, Karen,” I echo to the bartender’s retreating form, her back still shaking with a case of the rusty giggles.
“I’ll grab my cane and your coat while you get dressed,” Clover says, reaching for the door before I can insist that I’ll do it.
But she’s steady on her feet as she crosses the few steps to her cane, collecting it from the ground before turning back to fetch my coat. By the time she’s done, I have my sweater on and have eased out of the passenger’s side. I help her in, brushing snowflakes from her hair and resisting the urge to kiss her again before shutting the door behind her.
No more kissing.
Not until we’re somewhere more private than a parking lot, anyway.
I slide into the driver’s seat as Clover finishes rolling up the window and reaches for her seat belt. I ask for her address for the GPS, and she gives it in a distracted murmur, a confused expression on her face.
“You okay?” I ask as I start the engine. “Sorry about that, by the way.”
She shakes her head. “No, I’m fine. And if I weren’t, it wouldn’t be your fault. You don’t have to apologize for anything. I just… I was wondering where Karen is from. Her accent doesn’t sound like other Irish accents I’ve heard before.”