Rascal (Rascals Book 1)(3)

“I swear I’m not following you,” the voice said.

I turned to find Hot Guy from the drug store standing in the tiny room with me. He flashed me a smile as the door clicked shut behind us.

“Oh,” I blurted. “It’s you.”

And then, just as I was scolding myself for sounding so lame, the lights suddenly went out.





2





Alex





“I think we’re trapped,” Hot Guy said, giving the door a tug.

It was dark in the vestibule now, but I could see him in the glow from the streetlights and traffic outside.

“We should call someone.” I put my bag down and picked up my phone.

Anything to distract myself from the reality of the situation. Aka trapped in a tiny, dark box with the hottest guy I’d ever seen. A guy who already knew my taste in feminine products and junk food.

This time I was grateful for the dark because it hid the blush that was creeping back up my cheeks as embarrassment set in.

Using my phone as a light, I found a number on the ATM to call. When I was connected with someone, the woman on the other end was sympathetic, but told me that I needed to call the power company.

“But the streetlights are still on,” I told her. “I think it’s just the bank that’s experiencing the power outage.”

“Sorry,” she told me. “You can try calling the city.”

I hung up, feeling frustrated, but Hot Guy had already pulled out his phone and was dialing.

“I’ve got this,” he said, as if he was calling in a personal favor to the mayor.

I didn’t say anything. I was tired and my feet hurt and the rest of my body was bemoaning the lack of a bath at that exact moment. So instead, I leaned up against the wall of the ATM and watched hot guy speak to someone about our situation.

“I totally understand,” he said, his voice smooth and calm. “But we are trapped in an ATM. It’s late, and my girlfriend is a bit claustrophobic, so I’m sure you can understand how stressful this might be for her.”

I raised an eyebrow at that. Girlfriend?

“Thank you,” he finally said and hung up.

“Claustrophobic?” I asked, crossing my arms.

I couldn’t tell, but I thought I saw a sheepish look cross his handsome face.

“It worked,” he told me. “They’re sending someone over now.” He paused. “Though it still might take them a while to get here. They said fifteen, maybe twenty minutes.”

I slumped back, longing for my pajamas and the ice cream that was melting in my shopping bag. Hot Guy sat on the ground, his long legs stretched out in front of him, and I watched enviously, wishing that I could do the same. Unfortunately, I wasn’t wearing a pair of beat-up jeans like he was. I was still wearing my work clothes: a crisp light-gray suit with a tight pencil skirt, silk blouse, and heels. Perfectly acceptable for a stuffy law firm but not exactly “lounging in the dirt” kind of clothes.

Still, hot guy patted the ground next to him.

“You may as well settle in,” he said.

“I would,” I told him, before gesturing at my outfit. “But I’m not sure that this suit and that ground are a good match.”

“It is a nice suit,” he observed. His eyes grazed over me, and I got all warm as his eyes dragged from the tips of my toes all the way to the top of my head, taking his time to examine every inch of my body. It felt like years went by before his gaze returned to my eyes. And when they did, there was a heat there, too.

“I have an idea,” he said, and

I watched as he dumped his purchases out onto the ground and spread out the plastic bag into a makeshift seat for me. Not that it was easy navigating myself into a sitting position in that skirt. I settled onto the ground next to him not entirely sure I hadn’t flashed him a good glimpse of my panties. If I had, he was at least gentleman enough not to say anything.

He held out a hand. “I’m Emerson,” he said. And just like that, Hot Guy had a name. It suited him: sturdy, but interesting.

“Alex.” I shook.

His hand was warm and rough. I could feel the callouses on his palms. It was unbearably sexy. And he only got more attractive the closer I got. Sitting next to him, I got a good whiff of his scent and was immediately intoxicated. It was pure masculinity, beer and salt and some kind of good, fresh soap that I wanted to rub over my entire body.

Or just rub him over my entire body.

“Short for Alexandra?” he asked.

I blinked, wondering how many times he’d had to ask that, because I had completely zoned out.

“Yep,” I answered.

Emerson leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms.

“You know, typically in situations like this, I would be asking what you do, if you’re from here, all that kind of stuff.”

“In situations like this?” I smiled. “You get stuck in ATMs with women a lot?”

He laughed, and the rich sound vibrated through me.

“Not a lot,” he said.

I gave him a look.

“OK, not ever.”

“This is my first time, too.” The suggestive words were out of my mouth before I even realized what I was saying.

“I’ll be gentle,” he teased, and I was close enough to see the corners of his eyes crinkle.