“Seriously, five minutes. Please? I don’t have money on me for a cab.” She drops her head and bites her lip, looking up at me with watery eyes.
“Yeah. Okay. I’ll drive you.”
She does a little skippy thing and runs around to the passenger side. Her head appears at the window. She really is tiny. Except her boobs. Those are busting out. “Can I get a little help here? It’s a long way.”
Yup. Here we go. I can feel the regret as I circle the front of my truck. I take her bag and toss it into the cab, then tap the running board with my foot. “Take a step up.”
She does as I ask, but she’s facing me, so her boobs are right there. It takes an infinite reserve of muscle control not to roll my eyes. After picking her up and dropping her on the seat, I wait for her to swing her legs into the cab. When all she does is give me a blank stare, I hook a finger under the back of her knee and move it so I can close the door.
This is going to be a whole shitton of fun. I hoist myself back into the driver’s seat and shift the truck into reverse. The girl, I think her name might be Mary, or Miranda—it’s definitely got an M and an R in it—shimmies over. Thankfully the center console is in the way, so she can’t get too close.
She practically crawls over it. I don’t notice the phone until she kisses me on the cheek and a flash goes off. I put a hand up to stop from being blinded. “Seriously?”
“Sorry! All my pictures from last time were dark. I wanted a better one.”
“I’m driving here! And it’s nice when you ask first.” I try not to be snappy, but the way she shrinks back tells me I’m unsuccessful. Why did I agree to this? I feel like Miller back in the day. This just looks bad.
“Do you want me to delete it?” Her eyes are all wide and sad looking.
Maybe I’m being paranoid. Nothing’s going to happen; I know that. “It’s fine. I just didn’t expect it.” I stop at the end of the street. “Where’m I goin’?”
“Oh, right! Duh!” She gives me directions to her place. It isn’t five minutes away; it’s fifteen according to my GPS, but she’s already in the vehicle.
She fiddles around on her phone for a minute, probably posting the picture she took. Once she’s done, she drops it on the seat and runs her hand over the dashboard.
“This is a nice truck. Is this the only thing you drive? Do you have a sports car, too? Lance has a lot of cars, doesn’t he?”
She couldn’t be more obvious if she wore a “bunny” sign around her neck. “I have an Audi. And yeah, Lance likes his cars.” He has a collection. I’m not sure how he makes things work with all the money he blows, but that’s not my issue to manage.
The girl whose name starts with M roots through her bag-purse and pulls out a shirt. I assume she’s going to put it on over her bikini. That’s not what happens. Instead she pulls the tie around her neck and the one at her back, and the material drops to her lap. I glance at her and then back at the road, holding the wheel tight. I knew driving this chick home was a bad idea.
“What’re you doing?”
“Getting changed. You don’t mind, do you? My bathing suit’s still a little damp, and I don’t like the way it feels.”
I try to keep my tone even. “Again, I’m driving. You can’t be naked in my car.”
“The windows are tinted. No one can see.” She pulls the shirt over her head. It’s almost see-through, but it’s better than looking at her nipples. My dick starts to get the wrong idea about what’s going to happen here and begins the process of inflating.
Next my passenger shimmies her bottoms off. Now there’s naked * in my truck. Directly on my seat. She roots around in her bag some more—looking for shorts, maybe. I have no idea. Not like it matters. Normally this scenario wouldn’t be a problem, but I’ve been texting Lily this week, and she’s been messaging me back. I’m seeing her next weekend, and based on the content of our texting, I’m almost positive she’s willing to get naked and have some fun. She’s already made it clear to me and a good portion of my clothing that she doesn’t like to share.
Now here’s the thing: I don’t get into serious relationships. Based on what I’ve seen happen with my teammates, and my own damn asshole father, all relationships do is cause bullshit.
I travel all the time, and my entire life I’ve watched long-distance relationships fail. I had a front-row seat to the shitshow that was my parents’ ruined marriage. My dad was a professional hockey player—decent enough to be farm team and play a couple pro seasons. But he couldn’t keep his dick in his pants when he was away from home.