I force my eyes back on the road—even though I want to keep looking at
her longer. How could I have thought she was a guy. From my peripheral vision,
I catch the way she fans out her long hair before she ties it into a ponytail.
She unzips her coat, and I take in a big sweater that hugs her breasts. She
groans as she tugs at her pants.
“Soaked?” I ask.
“Yeah, and all my clothes are in my suitcase, and we know where my
suitcase is.” Her shoulders sag. “Although I don’t think I have any use for a
bikini anymore. But we could be stranded for days, and I don’t have a change of
clothes.”
Oh shit, now I’m envisioning her in a bikini.
Concentrate on the road, Chase.
She goes quiet for a moment and stares out the window, deep in thought.
What is going through her mind? After a moment, a laugh bubbles out of her, and
under her breath she murmurs, “At least I’m in clean underwear.”
What the hell?
My throat makes a gurgling sound as I force my thoughts on the road, and
not what she’s wearing beneath those tight jeans.
Her eyes go wide, and that’s when I see her innocence. I let my gaze
roam over her face for another split second. There’s something very different
about her. I think she’s giving off a girl-next-door wholesome vibe. At least,
this is what I think innocence looks like. I don’t see much of it in the puck
bunnies who watch us from the bleachers and chase us down after a game.
“Oh, sorry. I don’t know why I said that. I guess, it’s just…something
my mom used to say.” She laughs but it’s forced. “Always wear clean underwear
in case you’re in an accident.” She shakes her head, like she’s flustered. “I
mean, I always wear clean underwear. I wasn’t suggesting I didn’t.”
“Oh, sure yeah. I didn’t think that at all. I wear clean underwear too.”
Why the hell did I say that? Oh, maybe to make this exchange just a
little less awkward.
“Oh, God,” she mumbles, and shakes her head. While I think she looks
adorable, it appears like she wants to jump out of my moving vehicle and run
all the way to the motel—or Siberia. She points to her head. “And clearly I’m
still suffering from a frozen brain and have no idea what I’m saying.”
My gaze sways her way and I glance down at her tight jeans. Jesus, I
wish she’d stop rambling on about her underwear, because now I can’t stop thinking
about what they might look like on her body, or better yet…off.
Isn’t this day just getting better and better?
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