Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 38335 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 192(@200wpm)___ 153(@250wpm)___ 128(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38335 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 192(@200wpm)___ 153(@250wpm)___ 128(@300wpm)
Gasping, I slam my foot down on the brake.
Big mistake.
My tires lock in place, sending my back-end fishtailing.
“No, no, no!”
Adrenaline works its way through my body at the loss of control. I press down on the brake even harder, but it’s no use. I’m completely helpless as the car coasts forward in the slowest glide known to man, and it doesn’t stop until the front end of it gently taps the back end of the police-issued SUV.
Through the mass of flurries bouncing off my windshield, I can barely make out the officer writing a ticket to the car parked in front of him.
He blinks at me, surprised by my sudden Ice Capades performance, before leaning over to see the front end of my car attached to his bumper.
I watch his jaw clench and unclench in a mix of anger and disbelief before he shakes his head.
Uh oh. This is not good. Not good at all.
Mike
Not even two hours into my shift and it’s already been a fucking day. First, I get the kid to school late because she forgot her damn lunch at the house again, which resulted in us stopping at Tim Hortons to buy her food.
After dropping her off, I caught a bunch of high school seniors in a vacant parking lot doing donuts on the freshly fallen snow in a Ford F-150 while towing one of their idiot friends behind them on a sled.
Then, I had to pull this asshole over for texting while driving, which had him swerving all over the goddamn place.
Now, I have Franklin the fuckin’ Turtle over here that, despite driving slower than molasses, still somehow managed to slide into the back of my parked SUV.
All of this, and it’s not even ten in the morning.
Shaking my head, I finish issuing Tommy the Texter his distracted driving ticket, then leave him with a firm warning before turning around to see the young woman shuffling out of her car.
“I am so sorry,” she sputters out the apology, almost tripping over her unlaced boots as she hurries over to me.
Un-fucking-believable.
This, paired with the frosty ice bordering the windows of her car, made her an accident waiting to happen.
“I couldn’t see you through all the snow.” She comes to stand before me, her hat-covered head tilting all the way back as she squints up at me through the falling flurries, anchoring me where I stand.
She might be a walking hazard, but fuck is she beautiful.
Long chestnut hair tumbles past her shoulders in loose waves, gently framing a pair of light green eyes accentuated by thick dark lashes. Add in pouty pink lips that appear full and inviting, and it’s enough to render any man powerless, including myself. This, in turn, only serves to piss me off further.
“You didn’t manage to see my flashing red and blue lights right in front of you?” I question doubtfully.
She bristles, clearly taken aback by my tone. “Is that so hard to believe considering the weather right now?”
“Maybe it’s less about the weather and more about the frost covering your windows.”
She glances over at her car and winces.
At least she has the decency to look embarrassed about it.
“I admit I was running a bit late this morning and didn’t have time to let my car warm up long enough, but—”
“That’s what snow brushes are for.”
Her lips thin at the interruption. “I know. I haven’t had a chance to get one yet.”
She can’t be fucking serious.
Her slow blink tells me she damn well is.
“Let me get this straight,” I start, crossing my arms over my chest. “You’re driving around in this weather right now without a snow brush which is why your windows are caked in ice, but it’s not your fault that you didn’t see my flashing lights?”
Her eyes narrow gracefully. “Don’t you think you’re overreacting just a little? It was an accident. A minor one at that. Look, I bet there isn’t even damage.” She moves between our vehicles, inspecting the scene before coming back to stand in front of me. “Yep. Just as I suspected. No damage.”
Kinda hard to cause damage when there are power wheel jeeps that drive faster than she does.
“Besides,” she continues sharply. “I don’t have a snow brush yet because I’m not from here and—”
“Clearly,” I mutter. Unfortunately, not quiet enough.
She straightens defensively. “What does that mean?”
“It means people who live here don’t drive around without snow brushes in their car, and they sure as hell don’t drive around with their shoelaces untied adding to an already hazardous driving situation, and then blame the weather when they get into an accident.”
It’s a lie, some people do. Hell, some do even worse, like the dumbass teenagers I busted stunting this morning. But I refuse to tell her the real reason I know she isn’t from here, and that’s because I know every single person in this town, or at the very least have seen their face. And I would never forget a face like hers. One that is so goddamn beautiful it’s enough to stop a man’s heart from beating.