That mental kick in the pants is exactly what I need. I know all too well what becomes of a woman who lets herself be a man’s scratching post. “I’m not offering you anything but room-temperature Grey Goose and a place to watch television for a while.” I take a turn onto the avenue, before flicking him a teasing look down my nose. “You think I want a man who got left out on the curb like yesterday’s recycling?”
When Elijah throws back his head and laughs; the sound sends an appreciative shiver down my spine. Ignore it. “Something told me to get into this car.” His big shoulders are still shaking. “I’m glad I listened.” I pull to a red light, startled when he takes my hand off the wheel, holding it in his warm grip. His head tilts, his brown eyes bursting with character. A torturously handsome, kind-hearted rake with an actual sense of humor. “Friends?”
Feeling as though I’m standing on the edge of a cliff, I roll a shoulder. “I’m reserving judgment.”
His laughter defeats me this time and as I coast through the light, I smile.
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