Excerpt #4 DYLAN
She looked under the hood and sighed. She didn’t really know what everything was called but knew, with Vito’s truck, she could wiggle a couple of things and if that didn’t work, she could pull out the hammer…if worse came to worst.
She tightened a few things and crossed her fingers.
Hot, tired, and annoyed, she wiggled and shifted until she was upside down beneath the steering wheel again.
“Need any help?”
The deep voice had her jolting. The smooth baritone did things to her insides that should be illegal. Digging deep, she ignored the feeling and the offer of help.
“Hey, are you all right?”
The firm grip on her knee had her smacking her head on the base of the steering column.
“Ow! What is your problem, buddy?”
“Name’s not buddy, ma’am,” the deep voice answered. “You didn’t answer my question so I figured you were hurt and needed help.”
“I didn’t answer your question because I didn’t feel like it,” Ronnie said in her defense.
She touched the wires together and the ignition turned over purring like a top.
***
Dylan’s heart flipped in his chest and started beating double time. Holy shit! The little lady stuck upside down in the cab of her truck had just hot-wired it!
“How did you learn to do that?” he asked, amazed that anyone aside from himself had that particular skill.
“My cousin taught me,” she said maneuvering so she could get out from beneath the wheel. Placing a knee on the slide-over-here-honey seat, she scooted backward until she was out of the cab. She turned around and Dylan watched as shock registered first, recognition second.
“Well, now, isn’t this a surprise?” He couldn’t have planned it better himself if he’d tried.
He’d tossed and turned all night, and the woman standing in front of him looking up at him had been responsible for that and for keeping him tied up in knots for most of the day. And damned if she wasn’t frowning up at him. Perverse of him though it might be, it really turned him on.
Glaring at him, she didn’t answer. When the engine coughed and died again, she turned her back on him and reached beneath the seat and found what she was looking for. The claw hammer was worn and dirty—looked like it had been well used over the years. Grabbing the wooden handle, she hefted the hammer and got back out of the cab.
“What are you going to do with that?”
She ignored his questions a second time, getting under his skin like a burr under his horse’s saddle. Taking a step back, he leaned against his truck’s fender to watch the show. When the sweet little thing whacked the side of the starter with the hammer, his jaw dropped. When the damned thing started, he laughed.
“Who’d have thought—”
“Are you still here?”
To say the woman was pissed would be an understatement. When she turned her lethal green gaze on him, his libido shot straight to boil. He had to get his hands on her again. He pushed away from the fender and stalked toward her. She was bent over the fender, fiddling with something under the hood. Her curvy backside was cupped lovingly by the worn denim, making his mouth water.
Just one taste. Hands clenched at his sides, he tried to hold back, but when she wiggled to get closer to the engine, his heart stopped beating. Light-headed, he smacked his palm against his chest and finally felt the organ kick into overdrive.
“Who’d have thought that a pretty little filly from back East would know how to fix a starter and hot-wire a truck?” Admiration got all mixed up with his roaring libido, and something more, nearly indefinable—the feeling that this woman was going to matter.
“That and a couple of bucks would get you a cappuccino with the works back home,” she mumbled, finally straightening up and turning to face him.
Their eyes met and the anger in her gaze flared into something hot and wicked. Hot damn and halleluiah…she wants me!
She shook her head as if to clear it and held out a hand to keep him from reaching for her. “Stop right there, buddy.”
“Name’s Dylan, ma’am.” He grabbed a hold of her hand and reeled her in until she bumped up against his chest and their jean-clad legs were plastered against one another. Her heat scorched him, and Lord, every cell in his body stood at attention.
“You were on my mind all day,” he rasped into her hair as he leaned down and pressed his lips to the top of her head. He breathed in and was surrounded by her scent, a combination of sun-warmed woman working up a sweat and—he buried his nose again—some kind of berry.
“And smell good enough to eat, but damned if I can decide if you’ll taste like strawberries or raspberries.”
“You are not going to kiss me again.”
He grinned. “Well now, darlin’, I’m not much of a betting man, but I’ll take that one.” He swooped down and captured her lips with a kiss that had all of his cylinders firing. His engine was running smooth and hot. Sliding a hand down to her waist, he angled his head for a deeper taste.
Shockwaves rolled up and over him as his lips devoured the berry-tart confection melting into his arms. He was breathing hard when he came up for air. “I’ve got to have more.”
He was watching closely for her to say yes and follow him into the madness, but something in her eyes changed. She pushed out of his arms, and he let her go.
Love it when the guy is love-sick and the woman is strong-willed and independant. Can't wait to read it
chamblinh@gmail.com
Hi Heather – thanks:) I love strong women, too:)