So. Long(84)
I shake my head. “I’ve got no witty reply. Thank you for your help.”
Jackson heaves against the car, so I throw my weight into it as well. Sweet Sue moves, slowly at first but then it picks up a little momentum.
He says, “Hop in and steer her into the spot.”
I do as he suggests, and he lets go of the wheel and pushes, using the car’s frame. His arms flex, and the cords of his muscles come into stark definition.
Not just gorgeous. He’s strong. And those muscles.
Once the car is in place, he lets go. “All right. Now what?”
Wonder if I were to just run my fingers over those cords, would he notice?
“Now what, what?”
He quirks one eyebrow. “What are you going to do about the car?”
“Oh, the car—well, I don’t know. I guess I need to have it towed or something.”
Jackson steps to the curb, digging change out of his pocket.
“Might be best to get it done sooner rather than later.” He deposits quarters into the slot at the top of the meter. “That sign says one-hour parking.”
Great. All the tow-trucks for hire in the greater Los Angeles area are probably busy, and I’ll get towed by the one that only carries cars to the impound lot.
I pull my phone out and search for tow trucks, car repair shops—anyone, anywhere—who will come pick my car up before it earns me a big, fat fine.
Jackson slides his finger across the screen on his phone and taps it a couple of times.
“Hey, Rod. Look, I have a friend who needs a tow.”
I wave to get his attention, whispering, “What are you doing?”
He ignores me.
“Can you meet us at the corner of La Cienega and Blackburn Avenue? There’s a pet store on here. Thanks.” He tosses me a smile. “Oh, and this needs to be now, because it’s in metered parking. Good deal. See you in a few.”
He hangs up. “Done. Rod’s guy will be here within the hour.”
I take a deep breath and let it seep out slowly. “You didn’t have to do that. I don’t know how to thank you.”
He tips my chin up. “Have lunch with me.”
Lunch?
With Jackson Tremaine?
Those green eyes search mine.
The cleft of his chin. His strong jaw. Those damn dimples. And that’s just his face.
I sigh. “Shay’s gonna shoot me, but okay.”
He grabs my hand and kisses my knuckles. “Good. I know this great little Vietnamese place.”
An hour later, my car is at the auto tech place, and Jackson and I are eating Vietnamese spring rolls.
I dip some peanut sauce onto the end of my roll and take a bite. I chew and swallow, acutely aware that his gaze seems to take in every small move I make.
“Why do you keep staring at me? It’s unnerving.”
Jackson’s thumb comes toward my face. I lean away from him.
He licks the corner of his mouth. “C’mere. I’m not going to hurt you.”
My curiosity gets the better of me. I come closer to him.
He slides his thumb along my lower lip and up to the corner. When he pulls it back, he puts it in his mouth and sucks the condiment from it. “The peanut sauce is my favorite part.”
My heartbeat throbs all the way to my pussy as my tongue darts out to calm the tingles he left behind.
His hand slides around my neck while his gaze holds mine. “I can’t help but stare at you. You’re positively gorgeous, and I’m dying to kiss you again.”
Warmth floods my body, pooling in my core.
“More tea?”
Jackson’s gaze pulls away from mine to the small lady with a pitcher poised over his glass.
He straightens in his seat and smiles. “That would be great. Thanks.”
While the fog is lifted from my sex-starved brain, I switch to the chair across from Jack, rearranging my plate and drink.
I hold up my spring roll to the woman. “These are delicious.”
“Yes, everything is scrumptious.” Jackson winks.
Shay calls through the house. “Dickey, come on; it’s bed time.”
I pad into the kitchen where she stands on the step stool looking behind the fake ivy that’s collecting dust atop the cabinetry.
“Dickey go A.W.O.L. again?” I pull a bottle of Kahlua from the fridge.
She hops off the stool and heads into the living room. “Yes. He knows it’s bedtime, so he’s hiding so he doesn’t have to go back into the cage.”
A dollop of milk to go with my alcohol makes the perfect drink for some special relaxation techniques.
I pass by the empty perch and cage on my way to my room. “Just leave him out. He’s out all day anyway. He never hurts anything during daylight hours. Why would he at night?”
On her hands and knees, she looks under the sofa.