Accidentally Amy(29)

Stay at Blake’s apartment?!
Stay. At. Mr. Chest’s. Apartment. She thought jiofqpwehtp8439qghiea;igdg.
She responded: Um.
Blake: It’s close to work, too, so you won’t have to mess with the bus. Three minute walk.
Izzy wanted to say yes, but it felt like a bad idea. A terrible idea. Her phone buzzed yet again, and she felt her cheeks go warm when she read his message.
Blake: I AM BEGGING. I’ll even let you sleep on my brand-new (being delivered Wed.) California king (with adjustable firmness) that is touted as the equivalent of sleeping on a cloud - that’s how desperate I am.
Staying at Blake’s apartment. Sleeping in Blake’s bed. What in God’s name was happening? Was she having a dream? She slapped her cheek and no – not a dream.
Izzy: Can I use your building’s amenities?
Blake: Of course.
Izzy: Can I eat pizza in your new bed?
Blake: Of course NOT.
She pulled back the covers and got out of bed. She might as well go grab a book, because there was no way she was going to go back to sleep now. Life just got really interesting and her brain was preparing to explode.
She texted as she walked into the living room: I’ll do it, but I’m very afraid of falling in love with your cats.
It took a few minutes for Blake to respond, and his words did something to her already riotous belly.
Blake: Don’t be scared, Iz. Just take a deep breath and let yourself fall.

Chapter Nine

“Do you want a receipt?”
Hell, no, Izzy thought, depressed by the amount of money she’d just paid to get her non-working car out of jail. She put her credit card back in her wallet and said to the guy behind the counter, “No, thanks.”
“Young’s Towing will be picking up the vehicle within the hour,” Blake said, all business, and Izzy looked at him. When had he called the towing company? He was still in suit and tie, all VP vibes, and there was something ridiculously attractive about the authority he exuded.
“Sounds good,” the lot attendant said, nodding. “They know where it’s going?”
Blake answered in the affirmative, but also gave the guy the address of his garage, just in case.
Izzy looked down at her dirty Chucks, which were right next to his perfect butter-soft leather dress shoes. She knew she looked like a total wreck next to him. But she’d decided, when she got home from work, that a wise thing to do would be to change into scrubby clothes, wash her face, and pull her hair back into a ponytail.
It had been less than a day since Blake told her he’d never make a move on her – and she totally believed him – but she figured she’d be less inclined to overthink their “spark” if she knew she looked awful.
“Ready?” he asked, one eyebrow raised, and she nodded and turned toward the door.
Once they were in his car, she said, “You live downtown, but the address you gave for your garage is out in Springfield. Isn’t that like twenty miles from your house?”
“I don’t work on cars that often,” he said as he maneuvered through traffic, “So I opted for the less expensive option a little further away.”
“So, it’s not the garage you park in every day. Got it.”
His big hands turned the steering wheel as he went around a corner. “My building has a garage for parking, but the Springfield bay is just a little project stall for repairs.”
“Oh,” she said, trying not to imagine him leaning over the hood of a car with his hands wrapped around wrenches. “Do you have coveralls?”
That made him glance over at her. “No.”
“Gloves? Safety glasses?”
“What are you doing here, Shay?”
She giggled and said, “Just trying to picture you working on cars but it’s impossible because you’re so…”
She waved a hand, gesturing at his GQ looks and the interior of his luxury SUV.
“Well, you won’t have to picture it for long,” he said, switching lanes, “because I’m going to make you keep me company when I work on your sad little car.”
She crossed her arms and said around a laugh, “What if I don’t feel like it?”
“Too bad,” he said, his mouth in a little smirk as he kept his eyes on the road. “I expect you to feed me, entertain me, and assist me while I bring your car back to life like some sort of mechanically-inclined god.”
Izzy snorted. “Oh, I’ll be doing something to you while you work,” she said.
Gahhhh - not what I meant! I meant physical harm, not sex acts!
He didn’t say a word, but his jaw clenched, and she felt like acknowledging what she didn’t mean would make her suggestive suggestion even more suggestive.
Or something.
Shit.
“But be careful what you wish for,” she charged forth with, refusing to let it get weird. “Perhaps I shall read aloud from my favorite novel or sing the entire Hamilton soundtrack.”
“Why does this suggestion not surprise me?”
“Because you can tell I’m artistic?”
“Because I can tell you like to irritate me.”
“Hey, do you have one of those little scooter thingies that you lay down on with the wheels so you can roll under cars? Because I think I’d like to play with one of those.”
That made him glance over with a you’re-a-child smirk. “Creeper.”
“No,” she said, rolling her eyes. “It’s not like I want to scoot under you. Somebody thinks pretty highly of himself.”
“That’s what it’s called – a creeper.” He shook his head and said around a smile, “And yes, I have one.”