Jacked (Trent Brothers #1)(49)

His eyebrow arched.

“Sarah’s off tonight and Jen is already at work and I…” I was rambling. “Doctor Mason offered but that comes with a whole host of strings attached to it and… Damn it, Adam, I need my car. I drive from here,” I pointed at my spot in the drive, “to the hospital and back again. That’s it. Without it, I’m screwed.”

He made that gruff sigh he does when he’s sympathizing with me. “I’m not pissed at you Erin, okay? I know you need your car. Did you get a copy of the police report for the stolen plate?”

Shit. One more detail I’d overlooked.

I had been at the hospital so much, I’d lost count, and I’d made several stupid mistakes being so distracted. Fortunately they weren’t critical errors, but they were errors I normally didn’t make. My uncle was steadily deteriorating and my parents were barely holding it together. And this man… this man just does too many things to me. Just when I think I’ve seen the last of him, he appears out of thin air, confusing me further.

I couldn’t think straight anymore.

“Come on.” He opened my car door and held out his hand.

Come on where?

“You’re exhausted, Erin. Let me have your keys.” He waited until I handed them over.

He unlocked my front door and held it open. The feel of his hand on my lower back, guiding me inside, was strange and elating all at the same time. Could fate be giving us another chance?

He followed me into the dining room where I normally stow my purse. His attention then veered to looking at his watch while he started messing with my keys. He took the key fob off the ring and pocketed it.

“I’m keeping this for now. Just so you’re not tempted.”

I groaned. I wanted to protest but something told me it would be a losing battle.

He glanced around, zeroing in on my kitchen. “When was the last time you ate?”

I stared at the small section of wall by the refrigerator, trying to remember.

That tendon in his jaw flexed again. “You need me to make you something?”

I glanced up at him. “Why, do you cook?”

He gave me his silent nod.

Visions of him wearing nothing but his skin and just-f*cked hair while cooking in my kitchen flitted through my mind. Pity, I doubted I had any food worth making. I shook my head, knowing that would never transpire anyway. “I ate at work.”

He sighed again. “Do I need to tuck your tired butt into bed or are you going to go on your own?”

For a split second Sarcastic Erin wanted to take him up on the challenge just to see if he would follow through on his threat, but then I clamped down on her. Just the thought of being able to drop onto my soft mattress was blissfully tempting, but the notion of having him join me was almost too much to deal with. Considering the room was slowly starting to swirl, I held my hands up in surrender. “I’ll go willingly.”

He seemed to like that answer.

“You work tonight?”

I nodded. “I have to be there by seven thirty.”

“Got plans before?”

“Beyond sleep?”

I tiny laugh escaped him. “Set your alarm. Be ready by three thirty.”

Again with the hands on hips bossy tone. “For what?”

He smiled at me, sauntered over to where I stood, and softly caressed my jaw with his thumb. “Go get some sleep, Doc. I’ll be back.”

I stared up into those warm, chocolate eyes of his, liking the way they looked back at me. “Do you ever say please?”

He smirked, and then with the most sensual of snarky comebacks, asked, “Do you ever say thank you?”

“Thank you.” I truly meant it.

“Then please be ready at three thirty.”

“I’m sorry… about the other day.” I didn’t know why I was apologizing. It just seemed like the right thing to do.

“I am too. It’s not how I wanted things to go. At all.”

“Truce?”

His smile was warm as he stood in my air space. The tips of his fingers captured mine. “I’d rather call it a do-over. That okay by you?”

A do-over sounded perfect to me.

I watched his fine ass walk out of my house, pausing long enough to make absolutely sure my front door was securely locked. Then I watched him through my front window as he climbed up into his black truck and backed out of my driveway, feeling very alone from seeing him go.

I set my alarm, wondering what was going to happen at three thirty. I snuggled into my pillow, picturing his crooked smile. That was the last thought I had.





THE BLACK AVALANCHE pulled into my driveway at three thirty on the dot. Damn, he was prompt.

And holy hell he was gorgeous, too: blue jeans made to make mouths water, black motorcycle jacket that hugged him as if the two were longtime faithful friends, his spiky hair still looking fresh and wet from a recent shower.

My heart stuttered a bit.

“Hey,” he said, squinting at me when he stepped into my foyer. I felt his eyes brush up and down my body.

“Hey,” I said, just as breathily.

He cleared his throat. “You look really nice.”

The timbre of his voice reverberated right into my elevated pulse. I let my eyes drink in his tall, muscular frame, not caring that our time after our breakfast date ended so horribly wrong. You look completely sexy and totally f*ckable. “So do you.”