Page 7 of Money Shot

I turned to face him and immediately my mouth curled into a grin. He had captured my attention in a short period of time, and I had no desire to let him slip away without trying to learn more about him. Before I embarrassed myself by staring, I shifted my drunken eyes away from him and responded.

“Pump it once and turn the key,” I said as I opened the glovebox and placed the items inside.

He started the car and slowly backed out of the parking stall. Relishing in the recollection of Vince’s one-sided fight, I glanced out the window and toward the building. The officer was giving the man a sobriety test on the sidewalk, and it was pretty obvious he wasn’t going to pass it. As I shifted my eyes once again toward Vince, I wondered just how well I would have performed the same test in my flip-flops.

“I appreciate you saying you were driving,” I said.

“No problem,” he responded. “I appreciate you taking me to get gas.”

“No problem,” I said in a mimicking tone. “But we’re not even.”

“Oh we’re not?” he asked over his shoulder as he pulled into the street.

The muscles on his tattooed bicep flared as he turned the steering wheel. He was torturing me and he had no idea he was doing so.

I shook my head and swallowed a mouthful of desire. “Nope. I want a ride on your bike.”

He turned his head in my direction as the car came to a stop at the traffic light. After cocking an eyebrow comically and fixing his eyes on mine, he responded.

“I don’t give just anyone a ride on my bike,” he said flatly.

“Well,” I said as I raised my eyebrows slightly.

“I’m not just anyone.”