A Real Goode Time - Jasinda Wilder Page 0,5

thought I was soaked to the bone before, I was even wetter now.

“FUCK YOU!” I screamed at the semi.

Immediately behind the semi was a giant red jeep—an older one, with a lift kit and huge mud tires and a flapping soft top.

Instead of barreling past me and splashing me, the Jeep slowed, went another twenty yards or so, and then rolled to a stop.

My heart leapt, skittered—I desperately wanted to hitch a ride, but for all my blasé assurances to Jillie and Leighton that I’d be fine, the idea of getting into a car with a stranger made my knees quivery and my palms tingly. Leighton’s parting words this morning rang in my head: “Remember, priority number one is don’t get raped and murdered!”

I approached the red Jeep with trepidation. The emergency flashers were on, and the driver’s side door flew open. A long, lean leg and hip emerged, followed by the rest of a hard male body in a mechanic’s coverall, the upper portion knotted around his waist, leaving a plain black T-shirt on his upper body. He jogged around to the passenger side and yanked open the door as I approached.

“Hop in!” he said, with a distinct southern twang to his voice. “Ain’t a fit day for man or beast, let alone a pretty lady like you.”

The most mesmerizing puppy dog brown eyes I’d ever seen in my life looked me over, met my eyes. His smile was wide and genuine, with an amused quirk to his lips. Sharp features, hawk nose, chiseled, granite jaw, expressive lips, a two- or three-day stubble. Jet-black hair, messy, sexy in a don’t-give-a-shit-what-I-look-like way. Just-fucked hair begging to have my hands run through it.

Those eyes, though.

Amused. Intelligent. One long look into his eyes told me he’d be funny and sharp-witted, quick with a comeback.

Shit.

My savior had to be the single hottest male I’d ever laid eyes on. Of course.

I climbed up into the Jeep, slid onto a cushy black leather bucket seat, tossed my backpack into the foot well, and reached for the seat belt…only to discover it was a complicated five-point racing harness.

My savior closed the door after me and jogged around the hood, hopped up into the driver’s seat, clicked his five-point harness into place, shoved the clutch down with his foot and smacked the shifter into first.

He grinned at me, extending his right hand to shake mine. “Name’s Rhys.” He pronounced it Reez, with the final sound somewhere between a soft S and a hard Z.

Holy moly. That grin. Those eyes.

This was bad.

My belly was flipping, my knees pressed together, and my hoo-ha was taking notice of the way the black T-shirt was molded to his lean, lithe, iron-hard body.

“Hi.” I swallowed. “I’m Torie. Thanks for stopping.”

“Pleasure,” he said. “So. Where to?”

I laughed. “Alaska?”

Rhys

God Almighty, the girl was the single wettest human I’d ever laid eyes on that wasn’t in a swimming pool. She was wearing a thick black North Face hoodie, tight, faded jeans, and Timberland boots, and she was absolutely dripping wet. To call her a drowned rat would be generous to drowned rats. In fact, I’d seen folks come out of pools less wet than this chick.

Despite this, with her soaked hood drawn forward, black hair pasted to her cheeks, she was the most stunning girl I’d ever seen. I’d used the pretty lady line out of what you might call habitual southern charm, having not really gotten a good look at her. I mean, I’d noticed her tight backside as she’d climbed into the Jeep, and there was no mistaking the taut sway of an ass like hers for anything but that of a hot young thing.

She was tall, only a few inches shy of my six feet. She was slender, but not frail. Couldn’t tell much more about her body due to the heavy sweatshirt she was wearing, but her eyes spoke of equal parts sadness and humor, and I had trouble looking away in order to check over my left shoulder.

“Alaska, huh?” I chuckled. “Not sure I can go quite that far.”

She shrugged. “Nearest Greyhound station would be fine.”

I knew where that was, so I headed in that direction. “You’re serious? Alaska?”

She nodded, and pushed her hood back. Her hair was crazy long, black as mine. It’d be thick and glossy, if it were dry. She pushed it away from her face, and her hands came away dripping. “Yeah, seriously, Alaska. My mom and a couple of my sisters live up there, and

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