"Alright," the first guy said, glancing toward the crash. "Then drive your own."
"I would," the brother replied, "if you hadn't smashed it."
"Oh, quit bitching," the first guy said. "It's still in one piece."
Was it?I turned to look. Just as I did, something on the far side of the car clattered to the pavement. What it was, I had no idea. Maybe a side-view mirror?
After a long pause, the first guy said, "Make thattwopieces."
I wanted to snicker. And I wanted to cry. The mental whiplash aside, I hated that they were arguing, especially because this was mostly my fault. Hoping to broker some sort of peace, I said, "But you have other cars, right?"
Both guys turned to look. The brother said, "So?"
"So, couldn’t you use one of them?"
"Sure," the brother said, "if I want to drive an hour round-trip, and we're already late."
At this, a new wave of guilt washed over me. It was a Saturday night, and they were both wearing tuxes. Probably, they were on their way to a wedding or something. Cripes, for all I knew, I could be talking to the groom and his best man.
I summoned up what I hoped was a smile. "You know what? I'll just call a cab." I forced a laugh. "I don't know why I didn't think of it sooner."Aside from the fact I had no money.
Now both guys were frowning.
The first guy said, "You're not calling a cab."
"Why not?" I asked.
"Because, as the dickhead already mentioned, we've gotta go. And we're not leaving you here alone."
I looked to his brother, expecting him to say something dickish, like I deserved to wait alone for all the trouble I'd caused – or that I'd be perfectly fine and no one needed to worry.
But the brother didn't say any of those things. To my infinite surprise, he said, "No shit. If you think we'd just leave, you're nuts."
Huh. Imagine that.Therewassomething they agreed on. Unfortunately, it appeared to be the only thing, at least when it came to vans and crashed cars – which is how I ended up sitting on the first guy's lap as the three of us crammed ourselves into a car designed for only two.
Chapter 5
"My name's Jax," he said. "What's yours?"
I should've been blushing. Who knows, maybe Iwasblushing. Here I was, sitting on the guy's lap, and I knew nearly nothing about him.
My mom would besoproud, well, if she weren't so angry, that is. But hell, she'd be even prouder if I could talk Jax or his brother into buying me dinner and a beachfront condo.
But I wasn't my mom – thank goodness. With my gaze straight ahead, I said, "My name's Cassidy, and um…it's nice to meet you."
Talk about a massive understatement.The guy had rescued me, plain and simple. And he hadn't asked for a single thing in return, at least not yet.
I felt like I should turn around and shake his hand or at least look him in the eye as I gave him my name. But I didn't dare. Already, my ass was shifting dangerously tight against his pelvis – not because I was grinding into him on purpose, but because his brother was driving like a maniac, and every corner and curve sent me shifting against my rescuer's lap.
And it felt embarrassingly good.
Damn it.
But I wasn't that kind of girl – the kind who'd throw myself at him, just because he'd done me a favororbecause he was the hottest, most intriguing person I'd ever met.
Looking to silence my inner floozy, I kept my body rigid and my gaze firmly on the road, even as I prayed for the brother to slow down, at least while taking the corners.
It wasn't even because of the danger. It was because I was pretty sure that I was one good grind away from whimpering out loud.
