the unforgivable damage. My pride and joy that took many paychecks to cover. And the car’s not even paid off!
She glances at me before walking over to inspect the back of her car. Not my car. Hers! Like her rear bumper is the bigger issue here!
I gesture to my front bumper. “Look at this! It’s brand new, only been off the lot for two weeks!”
She looks at my dented bumper. “Calm down. It’s a little ding. I’m sure they can fix it.”
I can’t take how casual she is about this atrocity, especially after the exhausting night I’ve had. “Did you even look before you backed up?”
Her eyes shift to the side, appearing mildly guilty. “I have a backup camera. It just wasn’t working for a moment because I pressed the radio.”
I stalk closer in full authoritative cop mode, right into her personal space. She’s only a few inches shorter than my six feet, and we’re nearly eye to eye. I keep my voice level. “And you never noticed the backup camera fails to work when you start pressing buttons?”
Our gazes collide, and something changes, a primal recognition of one body to another that steals the air from my lungs. Is that lust in her eyes?
She licks her lips, and the blood rushes through my veins. She shifts away abruptly. “I’ll pay for it, okay? Just let me know how much.” She gets in her car and drives off.
I run a hand through my short hair, dazed for a moment. I’ve known Jenna for as long as I can remember. She started coming over to the house when she was five and I was three. Other than a long horny period I went through from thirteen to fourteen (okay, fifteen) where she starred in all my sex fantasies, I’ve barely given her a second look. I moved on to girls my own age, who didn’t see me as Sydney’s annoying little brother.
Back then, my mischief-making was in fine form at Sydney’s slumber parties with her three best friends—Jenna, Audrey, and Harper. I’d steal their snacks and hide around corners to scare the crap out of them. They’d get so furious at me, except Jenna. She acted like I was a mere inconvenience to an otherwise fine time. She’d pat me on the head and send me on my way. Which is to say she never took me seriously.
Whatever. I’m over her. She moved back to town last summer to open a bakery, which I never visit because I avoid sweets. I haven’t been avoiding her for a year. That would be ridiculous. We just haven’t run into each other, until she literally ran into my car.
I slowly turn back to my Mustang, focusing on the important thing here. She ruined my brand-new still-not-paid-off Mustang. Even if they fix it at the shop, she’ll never be the same.
My older brother Adam calls out to me, gesturing toward my car. He’s with his new fiancée, Kayla, looking happier than I’ve seen him in a long time. “That sucks. You’ve had it, what, two weeks?”
“Yeah.”
My mind flashes back to Jenna up close and personal. Things are different now. I’m twenty-seven to Jenna’s twenty-nine, and the years don’t matter much between two fully adult bodies.
I blink a few times. Dammit, I still have a thing for Jenna Larsen.
Jenna
I do not have a thing for Eli Robinson. I tap the steering wheel rapidly as I drive home, fresh from our fender bender. That was just…a weird moment. A weird angry alpha-male moment—his eyes hot on mine, his sexy earthy scent, the deep timbre of his voice. A hot shiver races through me at the memory.
Up close he didn’t feel like the Eli I grew up with. How is it I never noticed how filled out he is? Thick with muscle from his corded neck to wide rounded shoulders. He used to be a skinny scrappy kid. Now he’s got five-o’clock shadow on his square jaw. I knew he grew up, of course. I’ve seen him around town, doing his cop thing. Sometimes I see him from a distance at The Horseman Inn, the historic bar and restaurant that my best friend Sydney owns. He plays acoustic guitar occasionally on Saturday nights. I never got up close though, eye to eye, a breath away. There was something about his bristling authority as he confronted me that turned me on.
Gah. I can not be turned on by Eli Robinson. He’s Sydney’s irritating little brother. Worse, Sydney’s overprotective of