4. Eve
1993 Words
4
EVE
I leaned back against the front door and ran a hand down my face. “Get it together, Houston.”
Whitt was just a guy that it hadn’t worked out with. He was no different from the parade of exes who had masqueraded through my life. In fact, we hadn’t even gotten far enough for that. He’d wanted more than I could offer, and I shouldn’t still be interested just because he was hot as f*****g sin. I shouldn’t make an exception for him.
Once it was over, it was over. I’d learned my lesson to never look back. What was in the past was only ever going to drag down my future. Or completely blow up my future, like Arnold Sinclair had done. One moment, I’d been on a pedestal, and the next, I’d discovered he wasn’t separated from his wife. Suddenly, I was a homewrecker and not just trailer trash.
It had been hard to want any kind of relationship since then. Especially from someone like Whitton. He was Wright royalty, smart, driven, and intensely attractive. He was everything a girl could want. But girls like me, who had grown up in a trailer park and been crowned the town slut, didn’t end up with guys like him. And contemplating what it would be like to live through this fantasy didn’t help anything.
I wasn’t about to let another rich, pretty guy implode my life. Not when I was finally in a good place again.
“Right,” I whispered and pushed off of the door.
With a clear mind, I headed back into my room and stripped out of my professional attire. I still wasn’t used to wearing dress clothes. Not where I’d grown up. I’d always be more comfortable in my cowboy boots over my Louboutins. No matter how incredible my ass looked when I wore them.
I put my work heels in their place of honor. They gave me legitimacy for my clients, even here in West Texas. But I was over them, and I needed a different kind of armor to go deal with Whitt.
I pulled on a pair of short frayed-edge jean shorts and a baby-blue crop top. My hair went up into a sleek ponytail. Then, I slid my feet into my trusty boots. They weren’t the decorative kind that the girls wore on campus with their little minidresses. I’d gotten these in the Stockyards. I’d ridden horses in them. They were sturdy leather and made to last. The last vestiges of my home.
After reapplying a slick of lipstick, I grabbed two bottles of water from the fridge. It really was a thousand degrees out there, and Whitt didn’t have the convenience of changing out of his presumably wool suit and long-sleeved button-up. It was too hot for that mess. No matter how good he looked in it.
I was halfway to the door when my phone dinged in my back pocket. I fished it out and found a text from my other roommate, Blaire.
Whitt is at our house?
“Piper,” I growled.
I’d been living with the girls since our friend Jennifer had moved out…and I’d been evicted from my last property. Word of advice: never move into a property your boyfriend owns without signing a lease.
But even though I’d been living with the girls for a year, I still wasn’t used to the way they gossiped. I’d never had girlfriends to gossip with…only be gossiped about. And so having Piper tell Blaire I was with Whitt triggered something deep within the pit of my stomach.
Spill! I want to know what’s going on. Piper wouldn’t tell me anything!
I blew out a breath of relief. This wasn’t gossip. This was how girlfriends spoke to each other. They wanted to know all the juicy details. Blaire and Piper were excited for me rather than talking s**t about me. I needed to get used to the distinction, but it was hard to break the fear from twenty-five years of backstabbing.
He just drove me home. My car wouldn’t start. He’s giving me a jump.
Is that a s****l innuendo?
I snorted.
No. He’s jumping the battery in my car.
Are either of you naked in this scenario?
Blaire!
Don’t act prudish now!
I’m not prudish. I’m just not a horny teenager!
Please, we’re all horny teenagers.
Blaire was one of those girl-power people. She’d started a successful influencing program for women to achieve their dreams and move past their insecurities. She was constantly using her therapist speak on me about embracing my inherent identity and releasing shame. But I didn’t know what shame she had. She was with the hottest rockstar on the planet and picking up PR gigs all over the country. Girl practically had a fairy godmother waving a wand over her head and giving her the perfect life. I wouldn’t mind one of those.
Whitt is a thirst trap.
He’s probably just thirsty right now. I left him outside in the heat.
I sent her a picture of me holding the bottles of water.
You mean, he’s thirsty for you. ????
I left her on Read and stuffed my phone back in my pocket. I couldn’t justify a response. Because the way Whitt had been looking at me, he did look thirsty. And, f**k, so was I.
With both bottles in one hand, I opened the front door and headed outside. Cables were connected to our two cars. Whitt sat on my driver’s side and was revving the engine. It sounded like it was going to turn over, a ticking noise came from one side, but then it stopped. That didn’t look like a good sign.
Whitt stepped out of my 4Runner. He’d already shed his jacket and rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, revealing powerful forearms. My eyes traveled over him as he strode to the engine. His eyes roved over the parts. I had a rudimentary understanding of how things worked. I could change a tire and jump a car. Though I knew how to change the oil, I opted for one of those fifteen-minute places instead. The only things I knew beyond that were the parts that I’d had to replace.
I’d had a radiator blow up on me at a Sonic drive-in. Smoke billowed out of the engine like a small bomb. An oil leak had come and gone for months with little patch repairs before more extensive work. I’d gone the summer before college without air-conditioning before I scrounged up enough to cover the repair. My brake pads had been burned into the ground before I had the money to make that replacement. And all that didn’t include the dead battery, a few flat tires, and a Check Engine light that still flared to life every time I started the car. I’d never gotten up the courage to figure out what that was all about. I liked to live on the wild side and hope for the best.
“How’s it going?” I asked as I strode toward him.
“Not great,” he admitted.
He hadn’t looked up yet. His fingers were currently working their way down the buttons of his shirt. My steps slowed as I watched inch after inch of toned skin appear on his chest. He slid the shirt off his shoulders and tossed it inside the car before leaning into the hood of the car and getting his hands dirty.
Literally.
My mouth went dry. Those shoulders flexed as he reached deeper into the car. His back muscles rippled as he spread his legs wider for balance. The sharp angles of his body formed a V as his torso tapered to his trim waist and into his suit pants. His impressive ass pushed backward. I tilted my head to get a better look. For a second, all I wanted to do was pour the entire bottle of water over my head.
Congratulations, sir. You have one-upped my Daisy Dukes.
“Well, it’s not the battery,” he said.
He brushed his hands back and forth as he straightened and faced me. Then, his jaw unhinged. His eyes slid down my long, tan legs to the boots on my feet and back up.
Then, he cleared his throat. “I think it’s a timing belt.”
“What?” I asked, shaken back to the moment. “No. That’s bad.”
“Yeah.”
I passed him the bottle of water, which he downed before continuing, “I wouldn’t recommend driving it even if we could get it to turn over. It’d be a more costly repair the more damage it takes. You’ll probably need a tow.”
I deflated. f**k. A tow and a timing belt repair. How the hell was I going to afford that? I loved my 4Runner to pieces, but it was probably time to replace her. I just didn’t have the available funds, and she was so old that no one was going to give me more than pennies for her.
“I know a guy,” Whitt assured me. “I’ll give him a call and see if he’ll do the tow as a favor.”
“What? Really? Someone would do that?”
“Sure.” He already had his phone in his hand and was shooting off a text. “I collect friends like that.”
“Must be nice,” I said before I could think better of it.
He arched an eyebrow in my direction. “You’re doing all right in the friend department.”
“For sure. But no one who will tow my car for me,” I said with a self-deprecating laugh.
“You do now. I can take care of you.”
I smirked at him. “I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.”
“Hmm,” he murmured. “Well, he said he’ll be here in twenty. I told him to take you to a shop where I know the owner. He’ll give you a fair price and not try to upsell you.”
“You didn’t have to do that.”
Whitt took a step toward me. “I wanted to.”
A breath lingered between us. I could lean into it. I could let him work his Wright magic and be my knight in shining armor. But this wasn’t a fairy tale. I wasn’t going to be swept off of my feet. Men didn’t act like that in real life.
At best, a man was an accessory. He looked good on my arm, but he wasn’t necessary for me to shine.
I wanted to f**k Whitton Wright, but he’d made it clear that he wanted more. So, I took my step back. Decided to keep it professional and to leave the thirsting for my daydreams.
“Well, thanks. You don’t have to wait for the tow truck. I’ve already monopolized enough of your time.”
He nodded and took another sip of water. Already, he’d responded to my distance with his own. “All right. I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Yeah, I’ll be there.”
His eyes snapped back to mine. “Let me know if you need a ride.”
I wet my lips. f**k, did I ever need a ride. “Sure.”
He disconnected the cables, pulled his clothes back on, and then tipped his head at me before going back to the office. My heart stuttered as he drove away.
Had I made the right decision? Should I have gone for it? I didn’t normally back down from a guy, especially someone that hot, but I could see all the signs that this would crash and burn. When it inevitably ended, where would that leave me?
Would all my shiny, new friends pick me over a Wright? Or would I lose everything again?
It wasn’t worth the risk.
- Writer
