With my luck, I’ll probably wait here for the towing truck and get dropped off at home by them.
“Yeah… There’s a place I know,” I say, my voice cold like his. “I can’t call anyone right now. I don’t have a phone,” I say evenly while hopping from one foot to another.
It’s freakishly cold.
“Do you mind if I call someone for you?” he asks, and again, it strikes me how distant he is.
It’s like I’ve never had his hard cock under my rear or felt the fire of his gaze moving over my chest and legs.
It feels like he’s broken up with me before asking me out.
The thought puts me in a bad mood. Who needed more mixed messages from life?
I surely didn’t.
“Sure. You can do that. And while you’re at it, can you call a cab for me?” I toss at him, icicles floating in my voice. “I’m not sure the truck driver has room for me or even is allowed to take me home.”
I press my lips together and hold his gaze like an unyielding warrior, ready to sacrifice my soul in this battle.
He doesn’t owe me anything, but whatever issues he has––and I have issues, too––he shouldn’t take it out on me.
His stare stays on me as if he wants to make sure he got that right.
Yes, he did. He knows I’m angry. And good for him that he is so perceptive.
A tinge of warmth flashes through his moonlight eyes, his side-eyed stare and arched eyebrow only making him more attractive.
He has a strong jaw and chiseled-to-perfection cheekbones, and I begin to wonder. Who is this man? And why is he here?
He was supposed to be long gone.
I can’t imagine no one is waiting for him somewhere.
From a woman with a sexy body rocking the most fashionable set of lingerie meant to drive a man like him crazy to a soft, sweet one wearing regular clothes and a smile while setting dinner for him, anything is possible.
And yet he is here with me tonight after being tasked with a job that he––cross his heart––hated.
He reaches inside his pocket, retrieves his phone, and walks away from me, making a call while I study his athletic frame.
I knew that even with that Santa suit on, he must’ve had a rock hard body.
He is more than fit. He looks like he’s fighting in a boxing ring for a living.
His words travel to me, muted and diffuse, while my mind drifts back to a time when I wasn’t a teacher and worked multiple jobs, hoping to get to a better place.
That place has never materialized. Although I have become a teacher, I do love my work, and surely I’m grateful for my house, but someone has moved the goalposts, and it wasn’t me.
Apparently, I want and need different things now, and looking at the man talking on the phone with his back turned to me, I realize that I wouldn’t say no to someone like him, only with a calmer attitude, more patience, sunnier disposition, and obviously, someone entirely different than him.
Ugh.
I give up.
He hangs up and closes the distance between us.
I’m numb from cold, no longer shaking, no longer feeling my feet.
“Get your things,” he says. “You’re coming with me.”
