Thursday Nights (The Charistown Series) (40 page)
Read Thursday Nights (The Charistown Series) Online
Authors: Lisa N. Paul
Oops. Maybe it’s a good thing I ran out of gas because neither the coffee nor the donuts made it into my possession today. I
knew
there was an actual reason I went to that gas station this morning!
“I’ll be there soon.” I say to absolutely no one but myself.
I step out onto the interstate...well, the
side
of the interstate, and attempt to flag the first few motorists I see. No luck. Obviously I’m not the only person running extremely late for work this morning. Sighing out loud, I resign myself to the fact that I’m probably going to have to walk to the nearest station, which will definitely put me outside Harlow’s thirty minute time requirement. Turning on my heel to start the trek, I hear the rumble of a motorcycle slowing down behind me.
I hesitantly turn around, using my hand to shield the sun from my eyes, to catch a glimpse of whatever scary biker man has decided to be my hero this morning. I fully expect to see an old man with a beer belly and bandana covered head; complete with B.O., missing teeth, and a sweat stained wife beater.
Like the hook-handed truck driver from Adventures in Babysitting!
I am, however, pleasantly surprised by the delicious mirage that appears before me.
I watch the man lift his right leg over the bike and place it on the ground. Wow. This guy is huge and freakin’ tall. But anything would be tall to me, considering my five foot frame.
I hear the slow clanking of the buckles on his boots as he starts to walk toward me.
Man, those are some freakin’ masculine boots.
My eyes slowly graze upwards and I notice the worn look of his jeans; frayed a bit at the bottom, holes at the knee and snug at the hips. Do I dare keep going? Seriously, the temperature just raised 20°C out here. And this
is
Texas…in late August…
Not easily deterred, I do, in fact, keep going. His white v-neck t-shirt is stretched as far as it can go across his chest and biceps, falling a little more loosely over his stomach, while still managing to hug his hips.
OMG.
I’m totally not going to look any further; I can sense disappointment on the horizon.
Damn it.
My eyes have a mind of their own as they keep wandering upward. I catch a glimpse of his light brown hair. It falls to his neck, with shorter layers everywhere, making the ends turn up slightly all over his head. It’s a hot mess. I never knew what that term meant until this moment right now. It’s perfectly messy. I wish my hair looked that good. I reach up and attempt to push down the bubbly toothpaste section of my hair. Okay, I’m actually starting to find this guy annoying.
I figure it’s better to just look at his face and get it over with. Like ripping off a band aid, the quicker the better, right? Either it will be horrendous, which at this point I’d prefer because no one should be this perfect, or he’ll be completely gorgeous and then I’ll keel over and die right here of embarrassment. Either way, I’d like to just get this part over with.
I quickly glance to his face. I privately note his sculpted jaw, perfect nose, and his beautiful mouth, his perfectly kissable mouth. And his perfect teeth, all of which I can now see because as he’s getting closer to me he’s…laughing at me?
What the hell?
I’m about to give this random man a piece of my mind when I happen to catch a glimpse of his eyes. I find them a vaguely familiar shade of green, a light olive green. I narrow my eyes, allowing myself to really look at him. I look at his eyes, then his face, then his hair, then his shirt, jeans and boots. Oh. My. God.
“Well, Blake Morgan. What the hell are you doing back in town?”
* * * *
Available now at
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Table of Contents
Chapter One – Words, Janie, I Need Words
Chapter Two – A Details Kind of Girl
Chapter Four – Expecting Someone Else?
Chapter Five – Are you Sure You Can Spare It?
Chapter Six – That Went Well . . . No?
Chapter Eleven – More Than One Step
Chapter Twelve – She Was My Wife
Chapter Thirteen – Is This A Bribe?
Chapter Fourteen – Circus Peanuts
