Let Me (O'Brien Family, #2)(87)

“Jonah,” I say, returning my full attention to the stunning young woman. I offer her my hand. “Evan Jonah.”

A smile eases along her face, revealing a set of perfect white and drawing more attention to her delicate features. “I’m Erin O’Brien, but I go by Wren,” she says, shaking my hand with a firm grip before releasing me and easing the smaller woman forward. “How can Penny and I help you today, sir?”

“I was looking for either an SUV or a truck than can handle this winter,” I answer, doing all I can to keep my eyes from trailing down her body.

“Then you’ve come to the right place. Penny, will you show Mr. Jonah―”

“Evan,” I interrupt, mentally kicking myself for morphing into a fourteen year old boy the moment my eyes locked on this woman.

“Okay, Evan,” she says. “Penny, please show Evan our latest members of the Ford family to get an idea what may fit his needs.”

“Of course, this way, sir,” Penny answers with a smile.

I reluctantly follow behind Penny. Only because it’s now obvious I can’t rip my eyes away from Wren. But as we reach a black Explorer my attention trails back to her and Oscar. They’ve moved away from the main showroom and closer to the rear offices. Yet that doesn’t stop me from hearing their exchange.

“What the f*ck was that?” Oscar snaps.

My spine stiffens. I storm forward, ready to demand he apologize for using such foul language in front of a lady.

“You being a raging *,” Wren replies.

I’ll admit, her response gives me pause. And she doesn’t stop there. “Look, I know you have to compensate for your less than average-sized dick. But that doesn’t give you the right to mistreat Penny or pounce on every client she approaches. That’s bullshit and you know it.”

“Um, perhaps a truck will be more to your needs,” Penny says, motioning to the far section of the dealership and away from the heated conversation.

I’m not typically a voyeur. I also don’t typically interact with women who speak this way. But it’s not just Wren’s use of language that captivates me, it’s her strength, and her desire to protect her small friend.

“Where the f*ck did you hear that?” Oscar responds. “I don’t have a small dick.”

Of all his possible retorts, this is the one he chooses.

“Suze,” Wren calls over her shoulder in the direction of the finance counter. “What was it you said about that night you went out with Oscar?”

The woman behind the counter scowls and holds up her pinky. Wren smirks. “Looks to me like you should have called her back.” She pats his shoulder. “My condolences to your man parts.”

She starts to walk away, pausing when she realizes I witnessed their interaction. She must know I heard her, but instead of making a quick escape or attempting pretend as if I didn’t, she marches toward me, keeping her head up. “I apologize, Mr. Jonah―”

“Evan,” I clarify as she reaches me. Good heavens, and there’s that smile again, stirring one of my own.

“Evan,” she repeats. Her eyes skip to her friend. “I see Penny is taking good care of you.”

“Actually, I thought perhaps you can take over,” Penny says. Her stare bounces between Wren and I, likely recognizing how entranced I am by her.

Wren tilts her head. “I don’t want to intrude on your sales pitch,” she says.

“You’re not,” she responds, carefully edging away. “I’ll take the next one. Honest.”

She watches her walk away, before placing her attention back on me. She considers me a moment, as if trying to figure me out, but then motions back to the Explorer. “This is the latest model in Ford luxury, capable of keeping you safe, meeting your needs, and packed with plenty of toys,” she begins.

I follow her as she leads me around the vehicle. The ease in her speech and her relaxed posture reveal a woman who knows her products and her job well. I question her about the vehicle’s most basic facts first: mileage, warranty, and safety features, before testing her intelligence further. She doesn’t disappoint, explaining the vehicle’s functions in great detail down to the engine’s construction, adding to my growing attraction to her.

“Would you like to take her for a ride?” she asks. She punches my arm affectionately, drawing my attention briefly away from me face. “This way you can see how smoothly she handles the road and then you can then say, ‘Wren, how did I ever survive without a Ford.’”

“I’d like that,” I answer, keeping my smile. This woman who appears more elite model than sales rep knows exactly what she’s doing. “Very much.”

“Good,” she says, pointing at me. “You’ll wonder how you ever got along without her.”

As I watch her walk away, I start to wonder that myself.