Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 86751 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86751 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Her smile falls completely.
“What’s the matter?”
“I don’t have the money for a battery. It’ll have to wait.”
“You don’t want to get stranded somewhere. Can you put it on a credit card?”
She lets out a derisive snort, and my mind scans through options as I decide on the best way to approach this.
I tilt my head toward the building. “I forgot to tip you last time I got a sandwich. Here.” It’s an outright lie—I never neglect to tip—but she doesn’t know that.
She pushes my hand, and the bills it contains, away. “I’m not accepting that.”
“I was a cub scout when I was younger, and I still try to do a good deed every day. It’s getting late, and I’m running out of time today, so you’ll actually be doing me a favor if you accept this.”
“Nice try, but no thank you. You already did your good deed getting my car started.”
I tuck the bills in my pocket. I’m not giving up, but I won’t push. “After a jump start, you need to keep your car running for thirty minutes to fully charge the battery. Do you live far?”
She shakes her head. “About five minutes away.”
“I have an idea, then. I was just about to get a sandwich for dinner.” I glance down at her work shirt. “I assume your shift just ended.” She nods. “There’s a seafood place about half an hour up the coast I’ve been meaning to try. How about we drive your car up there and have dinner?”
“I’m really tired …”
“And I’ll bet you're hungry, too. I can do the driving, you can rest on the way.”
She opens her mouth to protest, closes it, then says, “I’m not dressed to go out anywhere.”
“It’s a casual restaurant. An order-at-the-counter type of place. Do you like seafood?”
Her head falls back against her headrest. “You’re persistent, aren’t you?”
I smile and shrug.
“I don’t even know your name.”
My brows lift in surprise. I assumed she and Miles would have already exchanged introductions, but this works out perfectly. “Max. Max Pruitt.” She repeats my first name, but doesn’t offer her own. “And you are …?”
“Callie.” She doesn’t offer her last name, and that’s fine. I don’t blame women for being cautious.
Still standing next to her car’s open door, I offer my hand. “Callie, it’s nice to meet you.” When she accepts my handshake, I say, “Good, now we’re friends.”
Her expression is dubious. “Friends?” I give her my best grin. “You’re a strange one, Max Pruitt.”
“Not really. So, are we on for dinner?”
She sighs. “Only because I’m starving, but I’ll drive.”
“As you wish.” I circle around to the passenger side and fold myself into the seat. “Let’s go.”
CHAPTER 9
CALLIE
How did I end up with Mr. Hot & Cold in my car, about to share a meal with him? This was not on my bingo card for today—or ever.
While he was working under my hood—that sounds dirty, doesn’t it?—I cleaned up my smeared makeup the best I could using napkins from the glove box. I still look a mess, but I’m mostly beyond caring.
I’m exhausted—from another long day of work, from dealing with my mom and her bombshell news, from my car troubles, and now, from trying to figure out what to make of Max Pruitt.
He’s in evening mode again, laying on the charm with every twitch of his lips. It’s like he has a split personality. His whole energy is different from Morning Max.
I look over at him as I wait at the light that will take us to the coastal road. “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.” Even though his frame is a few sizes too big for my compact car, he somehow manages to look right at home, with one elbow propped on the car door, the other arm resting on his leg. He must have missed the worst of the rain, because his blue henley is barely damp. Pity.
“Why do you come to yoga class when you obviously hate it so much?”
The light turns green, but I don’t miss the way the corners of his mouth curve upward before I refocus on the road. He chuckles quietly, as if he’s sharing a private joke with himself, and my curiosity runs wild. I’m starting to suspect that he’s fully aware of the Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde vibe he’s got going on, and that it’s some kind of game for him.
“Yoga has a lot of important benefits. Everyone should do it.” Even though he says this in a serious tone, he sounds like he’s joking, and I give him the side-eye so hard it hurts my head. “Can I ask you something now?”
“I’d like to say no, but I suppose we’ll both be really bored if we don’t talk during the drive.”
“I could just sit here and look at you,” he says, and when I glance over, he’s doing just that. My cheeks heat, and I turn down the fan on the car’s warm air.