Tiger Lily - May Dawson Page 0,9

truck.

When he saw me, his eyes brightened. There was no denying the way he looked at me, and it made me stumble deep inside.

Then he said, “You’ve got something on your cheek.”

Ice cream. It was ice cream. He just thought I was funny.

He licked his thumb—oh, I should think that was gross, Blake and I were not on licking terms—and reached for me.

I definitely didn’t need him to rub the rocky road off with his thumb like I was a kitten. I felt a dismissive smirk cross my lips as I took a step back.

My heel came down on nothing.

The drainage gap between the sidewalk and the side of the road wasn’t that deep, but Blake still saved me gallantly, throwing an arm around my waist and reeling me against his body.

He smelled good, like clean white soap and leather as well as a faint tang of automotive grease. Those amber eyes locked on mine, and a faint smile played on his kissable, lush lips.

He was so cute, and he thought I was just so klutzy.

I pulled out of his arms and huffed, storming off a few steps.

Then I felt even more guilty because I hadn’t thanked him. Knowing Blake, he was keenly aware I hadn’t thanked him, but he decided not to call me on it.

He probably expected me to feel grateful for that too.

His smile widened, and I bristled, not even knowing why. I tucked my wayward curls back behind my ears, trying to get myself back together. I’d known Blake since kindergarten. How could he fluster me?

Then I saw what was emblazoned on the side of his truck, and I turned to him skeptically. “Really, Blake?”

“What are you mad about now?” he demanded, crossing his arms over his big chest. He looked unfairly sexy just then with his t-shirt hugging his broad shoulders and a frown dimpling the skin between the most gorgeous gold-flecked amber eyes I’d ever seen.

So many things. “Did you really name your business—your actual, going-to-put-this-on-my-taxes, plastered-on-a-big-ass-sign business—Hot Wheels? What are you, seven?”

“Why do you care?” He didn’t even look mad; he looked genuinely perplexed.

“Because it’s so goofy, it gives me the worst case of second-hand embarrassment.”

For a second, he nodded, as if he were seriously considering what I’d just said. Meanwhile, my heart did flip-flops. Why was I so mean to Blake when he was nice to me?

“Oh, not only did I give my business a stupid name,” he said, a faint smile touching his lips, “but you’re going to come work for me.”

Right, now I remembered why being mean to him had become a habit. He was bossy and protective, as if he had all the answers, even though we were the same age. Since the two of us were five.

“What?” I asked. “Excuse me?”

“I heard you lost your job,” he explained. “Easy fix! You just come work for me. We need someone helping out at Hot Wheels.”

“No.” I shook my head, unable to help laughing. That idea was more surreal than accepting an allowance from my grandfather. “I’m not—I don’t know anything about cars.”

“You sounded really confident about them ten minutes ago,” he pointed out. “Anyway, we can teach you everything you need to know.”

“No thanks,” I said. “Very kind offer, thank you, but no thank you.”

That was a lot of times to say thank in one sentence. Totally playing it cool there, Lily.

He shrugged. “Suit yourself. We could use a good receptionist. Our filing system is a mess.”

“I’m sure it is.”

He stopped and turned to me, bracing his hand on the side of his truck. He raised both eyebrows skeptically. “What is your problem? In all seriousness?”

When those gorgeous hazel eyes met mine in challenge, it made something in my chest flip-flop. But I plunged on. “In all seriousness, I don’t have a problem. You can’t just come in here and tow my car and fix my employment situation…”

“I can, actually,” he said. “You just don’t want me to. And you still have chocolate on your face, by the way. So congratulations. You really showed me.”

I swiped my cheek with my sleeve. “It’s ice cream.”

As if that made things better.

“Get in the truck,” he said, going around to the driver’s side.

I stood there for a few long seconds. I hated when he bossed me around. I also didn’t want to walk home from the grocery store carrying my shopping bags and trailing droplets of melted ice cream behind me.

I grabbed my groceries from the passenger seat, threw them into the