Page 21 of Missing Pieces
He uncrosses his legs as he removes his hat and runs his hand through his hair. “About that. I had some trouble getting it outta the mud and I did some damage to it.”
Are you kidding me? I take a deep breath and try not to explode. “I assume you are going to pay for the damage you caused.”
“Of course, darlin’.” He just grins at me and I want to rip that grin off his face and shove it up his ass for causing Blue Betty more damage than she already had.
“What’s so funny?”
He pushes off the truck and closes the space between us. “You know that dress does an excellent job of displaying your goods.”
Great. We’re back to flirty Easton. Out of habit I look down and realize my boobs are exploding out of the top. It must have been from leaning over and refilling things. Maybe I should have worn a different dress today. I casually adjust them, so I don’t look like a porn star. “So what’s with the truck?”
“Well, I had to give you something to drive while you’re here.”
“You’re kidding,” I say in disbelief.
He pulls the keys from his pocket and goes to drop them into my hand. “Nope. All yours, sweetheart. It was just lyin’ around the shop. Supposed to fix it for someone. They didn’t have the cash. So I bought the title.”
I wait for him to give me the keys but he pulls his hand back. “Maybe I shouldn’t give these to you yet.”
I tap my foot on the ground. “And why’s that?”
“I wanna show you what kind of fun you can have in a truck.”
I glare at him and he clarifies, “Not the truck bed.”
“And what if I don’t want to know, what if I just want to go home?” I cross my arms over my chest then realize that’s only going to make my boobs more hookerish.
“Suit yourself,” he says, tossing the keys to me. “If you don’t wanna have fun and would rather just sit at home and mope around that’s fine with me.”
I push past him and move toward the driver’s side. He follows me and before I can open the door, he holds it shut with his hand. “You chicken?”
I roll my eyes. “No. Maybe I am just tired and want to go home.”
“Or maybe you just don’t like having fun.”
I guffaw. “Of course I like having fun, who doesn’t? I can have plenty of fun on my own.” I realize what I said a second too late and feel slightly mortified.
Easton looks me over with lustful eyes. “I bet.”
“God that is not what I meant,” I argue, pushing against his arm, a blush flooding my cheeks.
“Then why are you turning red?” he presses.
I feel my cheeks and chest getting warmer by the second. Damn it. I hate that I embarrass so easily. I also hate that this man evokes so many emotions and knows exactly how to press my buttons. I don’t even know why I am arguing with him. It’s not like I have anything to do. My plan was to go home and clean the kitchen counters for the third time that week, followed by a fourth dusting of the living room, and possibly pulling weeds in the yard. Wow, I really did know how to have fun.
“Fine,” I acquiesce.
His hand falls from the door. “Fine as in you want to have fun with me?” he asks, excitement lighting up his face.
“Yes, let’s go do whatever it is you think is so fun you want to interrupt my Saturday night alone,” I answer sarcastically.
He pumps his fist in the air in a small celebratory dance then rips the keys from my hand, “I’m drivin’.”
I nod in agreement and walk over to the other side of the truck and get in. The interior is nice for a truck I can tell is an older model. It isn’t flashed out with chrome. It seems like a classic Ford, no back seat, gear shift at the steering wheel, and no automatic windows. The stereo system has been replaced by a new model along with a GPS screen.
Easton starts the engine with a shit-eating grin and floors it. I fly backward scrambling for my seatbelt.
“Better buckle up, sweet cheeks,” he tells me as he puts his seatbelt on. “Oh and the wind in your hair might feel nice right now but you might wanna roll the window up. Might get messy.”