Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 101524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 508(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 508(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
“Are you cool hanging out here until it’s time to pick up the kids, or do you want me to take you home?”
“Whatever is easier for you, I have my work phone with me so I can stay here if you have stuff to do.”
“Alright, you can also use the computer if you need to.”
“Thanks,” I mumble.
“No problem. There is a bathroom down the hall, and the fridge over there is stocked with drinks if you want something. I’ll be in the shop if you need me.”
“Thank you.” With that, his gaze drops to his dog’s head on my lap, then travels up to my face before he shakes his head, turns around, and walks out.
With a deep breath, I focus on getting some work done rather than continuing my search for a rental car. I might not like accepting help, but in this situation, I need to. My parents and family have already done way too much, and I don’t really want to ask them to bail me out again.
Over the next few hours, I work from my phone doing what I can to answer e-mails and make calls, and every once in a while, Logan will come into the office and do something on the computer, print something out then leave again without saying anything.
At three, while I’m walking a client through the details of the final walk-through that they have scheduled for tomorrow, and letting her know what to expect, Logan comes back into the office. Taking a seat in the chair at the desk, he spins it to face me and leans forward with his elbows to his knees and his eyes on me. I have to fight not to shift under his gaze.
“Okay, so I will meet you tomorrow morning at ten, but if there is any issue before that, feel free to give me a call,” I tell the woman on the phone, then say goodbye after she does and hang up.
“If we want to be first load pick up, we should probably take off,” Logan tells me, leaning forward to rub the top of Dozer’s head.
“I’m guessing that you have another means of transportation since I don’t think you, me, and the kids can all fit on your bike.”
He grins, and my stomach flutters. “My Jeep is here; I keep my bike in the garage most of the year since I don’t have space for it at home and ride it if I’m just running an errand.”
“Cool.” I begin to gather my things that I have collected around me as I worked. After I have all my stuff together, he gets his keys, and we walk out of the building to a black Jeep that is decked out with the roof off and windows down. Opening the back door, he lifts Dozer into the back. It’s almost comical because he’s such a big lug.
“Ready?” He opens the passenger door for me.
“Thanks.” I scoot around him and get into the passenger seat. He waits until I’m fully seated before he shuts the door and walks around the hood to the driver’s side, putting on a pair of aviators that make him look cooler than he already does.
Once he’s behind the wheel, he starts the engine, and the song “Need A Favor” blares to life through the speakers.
“Sorry about that.” He turns it down.
“The only way to listen to music is full blast.”
“True.” He places his hand on the back of my seat, smiling at me before turning to look over his shoulder and backing down the driveway of the garage. Once at the bottom, he straightens out the wheel and takes off down the street.
Taking my sunglasses out of my bag, I slip them on, then tie up my hair into a bun, so it won’t become a tangled mess in the wind. As he drives us through town, I fail horribly at not checking him out from behind the safety of my dark sunglasses as the summer sun beats down on us and music plays through the speakers. His hands are big and rough-looking from his job, his forearms are strong, and his biceps to shoulders are defined with muscles that I can make out even under the material of his tee. Everything about him oozes masculinity, and even doing nothing but sitting next to him, I feel more feminine. Worse, he smells really fricking good, and his tattoos are like my krypotonite which does not bode well for me since I’m going to be stuck with him him for the next hour, if not longer.
When we arrive at the school, I’m ready to escape, but there is already a long line of cars waiting, and lots of time before the kids get out for the day, so I’m stuck.
“How old is your son?” I ask him while digging through my bag for one of the many packs of gummy candies I always keep in my purse. I could lie and say I keep them on hand for Zuri, but the truth is I’m a sucker for sweets, especially gummy worms or gummy bears.