Page 100 of Almost Enough

“Nothing?”

He smirks. “The boss man said not to take a dime from you. Keys are in it. You’re all set.”

I tuck my wallet back into my bag, eyeing Jake suspiciously. I’m definitely going to give Beau a hard time about this. No way am I letting him or his crew do me favors without paying my dues.

Jake’s smirk tells me Beau’s been crystal clear—no charge. That’s fine. I’m already planning how I’ll thank him when I see him.

Later the next day, after surviving back-to-back meetings that leave my brain buzzing and my shoulders tight, I sling my bag over my shoulder and make my way to Beau’s garage. He should be off the clock soon.

The sky is a soft gray, and the air is humid and thick, just on the verge of rain. When I pull into the garage lot, I can already see Beau bent over the hood of a car, sleeves rolled up, biceps flexing. Sexy as hell.

I stroll in, purposely swaying my hips a little more than usual in my sundress I chose for this exact purpose. He straightens up, catching me mid-step, eyes darkening in that way that makes my pulse spike.

Before he can say a word, I close the distance and press my lips to his.

Beau freezes for half a heartbeat, just long enough to register my actions before his mouth moves against mine, answering with a low growl that vibrates through my chest. His hands land on my ass, tugging me flush against him. His tongue strokes against mine in a way that makes me forget the garage, the hoots and hollers behind us, and the fact that I’m definitely standing in a puddle of motor oil in brand new sandals.

I pull back just enough to nip his bottom lip. “That’s just the appetizer.”

He quirks a brow. “Is that right?”

“Mmhmm. I’m buying dinner tonight.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I know. But I want to.” I lean in closer, lowering my voice. “Jake told me you wouldn’t let me pay, so this is my compromise.”

Jake chooses that moment to walk by, shooting us a knowing grin. “Get a room!”

I laugh, but Beau’s smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Something’s off. He seems…distant. I don’t like it.

“You okay?” I ask, studying his face.

“Yeah.” He presses a soft kiss to my forehead. “Just tired. Been a long day.”

I nod, not entirely convinced, but I don’t push. “Come on, Sinclair. Let’s grab some greasy fast food and head back to your place. I’ve got a craving for curly fries.”

Beau decides to drive because he doesn’t want to get my car greasy and sweaty, but joke’s on him. That would have made my fucking day. I would have never cleaned those seats.

I can get over it, though, because I have a bigger problem right now. That problem being the way Beau drives.

His one hand is on the wheel, all relaxed. There’s this loose confidence to it. His casual grip shouldn’t be doing what it is to me, and yet here I am. I came thinking about French fries, but now all I can focus on are his forearms.

I stare out the passenger window and think about fries very hard.

It doesn’t work.

The second he pulls into the drive-thru, I know I’m going to do something wildly inappropriate. I’m hot. I’m horny. I’m hungry. And he’s sitting there looking like a whole damn snack and a half.

The speaker crackles, and I’m two seconds away from committing a public felony with my mouth. “Welcome, order when you’re ready.”

I reach across the console, slow enough that he doesn’t flinch, and let my fingers trail across his thigh.

Casual. Innocent…until they hit his zipper.

“What are you…?” His voice trails off, a little strangled.

“Shh.” I smile. “I’m just ordering.”