Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 102903 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102903 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
“It’s no big deal, Hannah. I didn’t mind.”
Didn’t mind? Sleeping in my driveway all freaking night long?
“Wow.” My cheeks heat, my chest tightens, and a whirlwind of emotions hit me all at once. Embarrassment, gratitude, disbelief. No one’s ever done anything like this for me. “Thanks. I . . . can’t believe you did that. But I . . . I really do appreciate it.”
Dominic’s head tips slightly to the side, and his lips curl into a deeper smile. “Did you sleep well?”
“Honestly? Better than I have in ages.”
“Good. It was worth it then.” He stretches his arms again, and I try really hard not to notice just how freaking muscular he is as his biceps and triceps and shoulders flex with the movement. “See you in a bit, I guess?”
“Uh-huh.” I awkwardly jingle my keys in the air. “See you in a bit.”
He taps the top of the car a couple of times before climbing back inside, and I turn to make my way back up the driveway. I don’t know why all of a sudden I feel self-conscious around him, but I force myself to shake it off as I head to my Civic. Obviously, I don’t have time to let myself get a weird little crush on the detective who is screening my phone sex calls.
Ha. The insanity of that makes me snort out loud as I open my driver’s side door with a creak. I climb in, tossing my purse and the lunch Lovie packed for me on the passenger seat. Key already in hand, I slip it into the ignition and crank the car to start, but other than a couple of groans, it doesn’t do anything at all.
What the . . . ?
I try again, but this time the noise is slower, and then eventually, it stops cranking at all. I sink my head into my hands and groan, as all the breath from my lungs leaves in a whoosh.
Whyyy does it always have to be something?
I’m still in that position when a knock on my window startles me, and I look up to find Dom standing there, outside my driver’s side door.
When I hit the button to roll my window down and talk to him, nothing happens. Because, apparently, this isn’t already enough of a shit show.
On a sigh, I open my door and climb back out to stand in front of him.
“Won’t start?” he asks, and I cringe.
“I think it needs a battery.” Frankly, when I got my last oil change, I knew it was going to need a new battery soon, but I kind of . . . sort of . . . let that go for a bit, because money was tight.
“Why don’t you ride with me then?” he suggests. “I could jump you, but then you might get stuck downtown with no way to get home and a broken-down car.”
My mind tries to fixate on the words jump you, and I internally scold myself for being such a pervert.
“Um . . .” I dig my teeth into my bottom lip. My guilt and embarrassment hover over me like a rain cloud. This guy has already spent the night outside my freaking house, his over-six-foot frame sleeping in a two-door Camaro. Pretty sure he’s already done enough. “Yeah, but if I ride with you, you still have to bring me home.”
Dom shrugs. “And?”
“And . . . that would be incredibly inconvenient for you.”
I don’t know exactly where Dom lives, but I’ve spent enough time with him to know it’s somewhere near downtown Nashville. Basically, the opposite direction of my house from CMA headquarters.
“It’s no problem. I’ll drive you,” he says, gesturing me to follow his lead toward his car. I shake my head, trying my hardest to find a plan of action that doesn’t include Dom saving my ass two times in a row.
“It’s fine. I can—”
“Hannah,” he cuts me off, a smile cresting on his mouth. “There’s no way I’m leaving you here stranded. I’ll drive you.”
And then, he turns on his boots and heads toward his Camaro. Conversation done.
“Okay . . . uh . . . I guess I’ll get my stuff?”
“Sounds good!” he calls over his shoulder. “I’ll be in the car.”
I let out a deep exhale before leaning into my Civic to grab my lunch and purse, closing the door and locking it, and then heading back down the driveway once again. Over my shoulder, I steal a quick glance back at the house to find my mom and Lovie watching us from the window.
I can only imagine the scenarios my mom is cooking up in her head right now. Tony and Ziva, getting into a car together. Dom’s car might not be an obvious patrol car, but Sherry’s watched enough NCIS to understand that a black, unmarked Camaro with spotlights on both mirrors equals law enforcement.