Total pages in book: 20
Estimated words: 18430 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 92(@200wpm)___ 74(@250wpm)___ 61(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 18430 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 92(@200wpm)___ 74(@250wpm)___ 61(@300wpm)
Right. Just one night.
3
Jess
My dad would be absolutely furious with me right now if he saw me in a truck with a complete stranger. But then again, he’d probably be furious with me if I stayed in my car in the insane Texas heat and roasted like a Thanksgiving turkey.
I really had no choice in the matter. It was either go with Liam or wait for someone else to come along, and who knows how long that would be or who that person would have been? I can say one thing for sure—that person definitely wouldn’t have been as sexy as him.
Liam is drop dead gorgeous. I have no idea what he does for a living, but he must be somewhere in his thirties and he definitely works with his hands.
His skin is tanned, clearly from working outside, and his chest muscles are threatening to burst out of the dirty and greased-up tank top that’s all sweaty and clinging to his body.
He has a pair of torn-up blue jeans on and some work boots that look like they’ve been to hell and back with him, and I’d wager not a single bit of his physique was built in the gym. This is a man who forged all of his form doing whatever it is his does. And that is an insane turn-on.
And to top it all off, he has the face of a model, with just behind a couple of days of stubble and a medium side-part on top that’s buzzed shorter on the sides. He’s ruggedly handsome from working but might just have boyish good looks if he’d lived a more pampered life.
Men like this often scare me. They look at you like predators and shout pickup lines and wolf whistles at you as you pass. But something about Liam, something behind his eyes or the way he’s paying attention to me now has me slowly feeling at ease beside him.
“So you’re not a Texas girl, are you?” he asks.
“What? How’d you know that?”
He grins and turns one of the AC vents to aim more directly at me. Can he tell I’m still hot? God, am I still sweating?
I can’t tell if Liam is or not. It’s like his entire body is just shining like he’s been oiled up for a photoshoot. And honestly, I don’t care if it is sweat or not. It’s just hot.
“I was born here,” he replies with a grin. “Moved around a lot, but I’m back here now. Those of us who were from here can always tell those who ain’t. Even in those Texas hot pants you got on.”
My face starts burning from an intense, immediate blush. He’s had his eyes on my lower half, and that makes me feel a certain way that I don’t even know how to process right now.
“What are you saying? I’m a poser?” I ask, deflecting.
He chuckles, so charming and sexy that I nearly forget what it is we’re even talking about. “Aren’t you? Rich girls love pretending they’re something other than what they are.”
I gasp. My first reaction is to reach out and slap him somewhere, but I somehow stop myself.
“Rich girls? Pretending? Who do you – what are you talking about?”
Liam is really laughing now. “Hey, relax, sweetie. I’m just messing with you. But you are a rich girl, aren’t you? Not many waitresses have houses over on Lake Austin.”
His words twist my tongue into a knot in my mouth. “Hey don’t worry about it. Just don’t expect any butlers or maids over at my place, all right?”
“We don’t have any butlers or maids either, okay?” I retort.
“Oh, so you know how to use a vacuum?” he asks.
“Yes, I know how to use a vacuum!”
Liam is laughing as he drives, clearly in love with teasing me and not at all bothered by me snapping back at him. There’s something fascinating about him. He’s like an enigma. So big and buff and rugged, but also not just some walking hunk of braindead testosterone either. He’s like a puzzle I really want to figure out.
“And what about you, mister?” I counter back. “Ever done a crossword puzzle or a brain teaser?”
The side of Liam’s mouth curls up as if to say touché.
“I’m a roughneck. Know what that is, rich girl?”
His words are like a finger poking me right in the ribs, but I ignore them because I want to know what he’s saying.
“Sounds manly,” I tease.
He chuckles and turns off the highway onto a regular road. Just him moving the steering wheel causes the muscles in his arms to flex and go taut, accentuating the ridiculous strength he clearly possesses.
“It means I work on oil rigs,” he replies. “It’s a nomadic lifestyle. I travel across the country from here to there, go where the oil is.”
I get it now. That’s where he got all those muscles from. I can’t even imagine what the life on one of those rigs is like. I’ve seen them on the horizon every now on then while driving in Texas, but I’ve never been up close to one.