Rich Prick – Tijan Page 0,18

pump and ditch.”

“What?!” Then the manager was gone. I heard him run out. A second later, the snort guy started laughing.

“Ha-ha, dickhead.” A door slammed shut, and Blaise came to the stall. He knocked gently. “It’s all good.”

I unlocked the door, letting it swing open.

Gah. I was melting and dying at the same time. His hair was messed up and looking seriously sexy, and not only did his chest look hella hot, but hello? Where had those grooves come from? They outlined his stomach perfectly, as if they were arrows, pointing right down to where I’d felt him grinding against me.

I gulped. And swallowed.

He’d been so hard. And big. Massively big.

I was back to my goldfish impersonation.

“You okay?”

My eyes snapped to him, hearing a little bit of pity. He knew what was going through my head and probably my body—well, most definitely my body, and I swallowed again.

“I’m just embarrassed,” I whispered, hanging my head a little.

“I’m getting that, but you don’t need to be. You know that, right?” He gestured to me. “You’re hot, Aspen.”

What all girls want to hear in a gas station after almost getting caught in the men’s bathroom by the manager.

I sighed. “I know people saw.”

Blaise tipped his head to the side, his hands sliding into his pockets. It only seemed to accentuate his six-pack. I groaned on the inside and wet my lips, because I was starting to salivate. One kiss from him had me hooked. He was like crack. My body was now fully on sexual conditioning response.

I just needed a look, and I was acting like a hussy.

“My buddy will help distract for us. Say the word and we’ll sneak you out the back way.”

“There’s a back way?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Just past our door. You can go out that way, and I’ll get whatever you were buying and meet you out front in a minute.”

“Really?” That was sweet of him. I frowned. Sweet was not a word used to describe Blaise DeVroe.

He shrugged. “Tell me what you were buying.”

I told him, and his eyebrows went up, but he didn’t say anything.

I don’t know if I was disappointed at the lack of reaction, but I was thankful after he stepped out into the hallway. A second later, I slipped out, and he indicated the back door.

I went through, remembering that I was still wearing his shirt when I stepped outside.

A staff person was on her smoke break, but she only looked at me before taking another drag.

I ducked my head, hotfooting it around her, then around the gas station and out to my car. A minute later, Blaise came out with his arms full. His friend was right behind him, and holy crap. I was embarrassed all over again because that friend was Jamie Conway, another one of the most popular guys. His reputation had skyrocketed this week after everyone heard how he and Oliver Ashlome had stepped up behind Blaise, defying Zeke Allen.

It was big news for FCA. Really big news.

I also noticed Blaise was wearing a gas station shirt. He’d turned it inside out. He smiled when he saw me grinning at it. He glanced down and shrugged. “I’ve always wanted Quick-Fill swag. I’ll frame it one day and hang it over my bed.” He winked before nodding toward the things he carried. “Did I get it all?”

Pizza. Two deli sandwiches. A hot dog complete with ketchup and mustard. My coffee. And my smoothie.

“You got it all.”

He handed it over, our hands brushing, and I tried to ignore the sizzle that ran up my arm. A knowing smirk came over his face, but he was looking at Maisie—the backseat, to be more specific.

His smirk fell away. “Are you going camping?”

“Camping?” Jamie Conway stepped up next to us, gawking at my backseat. “No way.” He smacked Blaise’s chest with the back of his hand. “Forget Zeke’s. Let’s go camping!” He turned his eyes my way. “Where do you camp? Do you go a lot?”

Um… My heart sank to my stomach.

Blaise was thinking, and he was thinking fast. He was connecting the dots, and then he knew, and I knew he knew because he lifted his eyes to me. They were filled with accusations, but also—my stomach shriveled up—with pity. A whole bunch of pity. But also confusion. His eyebrows pinched together, but he wasn’t saying a word.

Why wasn’t he saying anything?

“You camp a lot?” Jamie asked again.

I flushed, remembering it was Jamie Conway asking me that question.

I bobbed my head up and