I parked the truck where it belonged, and shook my head at where Silver had parked her piece of shit Grand Am.
Right in the middle of the forecourt.
Sideways.
Lips twitching despite telling myself to get it under control, I got out and slammed the truck door closed.
I had to fight my manners to go get her door for her but eventually did anyway because she didn’t get out right away.
I opened her door to see her sitting up straight, face flushed.
“What are you doing?” I asked as she came back up straight in her seat.
“Dropped my phone underneath your seat,” she said. “Had to go digging.”
“Oh,” I said as I took in her bare legs.
I must’ve caught her leaving work.
She was in tight jean shorts, a black sweatshirt despite it being eighty degrees and muggy as fuck, and red high-top Nike Dunks.
I only knew what Nike Dunks were because Eedie had gone crazy over Silver’s shoes once.
That day that Eedie had gone crazy I’d learned that Silver had won them in a shoe raffle off of Nike because she’d entered every day for a year and won.
“Still wearing your winning shoes, I see,” I murmured.
“These are really all I have to wear. I have one more pair that are really ratty, but I don’t wear them often,” she admitted.
I frowned. “What?”
“Old habits,” she murmured. “I don’t get new shoes until the old ones wear out.”
That had my jaw clenching and pissing me off.
Silver and Aella’s mother was a piece of shit that had stolen everything from them but their actual lives.
And apparently Silver’s dad wasn’t any better.
“Huh,” I grunted. “Are you getting out?”
“Yeah,” she said. “But catch me because this is a long jump and I think I pulled a muscle getting in and out earlier.”
Before I could comprehend her words, she threw herself at me.
On instinct, I caught her around the waist and held her slightly aloft for a few long moments before I placed her on the ground.
“Thanks,” she said as she turned her back on me and gave me the best view in the world.
Her ass in those jean shorts.
Wranglers.
They were high, hugged every curve she had, and were so worn out that they fit her perfectly.
Her sweatshirt was bunched up high around her waist from where I’d caught her, and she didn’t pull it down until she was almost to her car.
“I gotta get back to work or they’ll probably fire me when the first shift gets there and finds out I left. I have a computer program running acting like I’m there, but if they find it when they come in, they’ll know that I wasn’t,” she mused as she hurried to her car.
