Chapter 5

Some girls are Malibu Barbie. I’m that weird knock-off, store-brand ‘Barbie’ that looks like she’s from the hood and has gone a few rounds with life.

-Lark’s secret thoughts

Lark

I looked at my car in dismay.

I had a parking ticket.

Dammit.

Hell.

Shit.

Piss.

I took the ticket off of the windshield, opened the door of my car, and sat down on the most uncomfortable seat in the world.

It, however, was being loaned to me by my new friend, Krisney.

Apparently, it was her spare. She’d explained to me when she’d given me the keys that it had a tendency to break down at the worst possible minute. That it had an oil leak that meant I would have to put a bottle in once a week, and a faulty taillight that worked only when it wanted to work.

The inside was almost as bad as the outside, but not by much.

Oh, and did I mention I couldn’t afford insurance?

Yeah, I was driving on the Texas roads, illegal as fuck.

Awesome.

I thrust this ticket into the glovebox with the others and slammed it closed.

Then I stuck the key in the ignition, turned it, and winced.

Nothing. Not a crank. Not a dink. Not even a turn of the motor.

Not a goddamn thing.

“Dammit!” I cried out. “Can my life get any worse?”

Yes, yes it could.

Which I found out moments later when a tow truck pulled up across the street from me, started backing up, and stopped a few short inches away from my neighbor’s truck’s front bumper.

Then none other than the sexiest man alive got out, dressed the same way he had been the day he’d repossessed my car.

Baylor Hail.

God, he was so sexy.

So sexy it practically hurt.

He was tall, well over six feet two inches—I knew this based off of looking up at him. The same crick that was in my neck when I looked at my ex, was also present when I looked at Baylor. My guess was that he was at least six foot three or more based on my increased level of crickiness.

He had brown hair that was shaved on the sides, and a little longer than finger length on top.

He’d cut it.

My heart almost broke.

Those curling ends had been adorable when he’d repossessed my car.

My mind wandered to who cut his hair. Which woman got the privilege of sifting her fingers through the hair that looked so freakin’ soft.

I wondered if she kept his hair as a memento until the next time he came in.

I used to cut my friend’s hair like that…I could totally cut his if he wanted.

I winced and looked away from the man that had the power to make my mind stray to the most indecent things.

My eyes went back to the dashboard, and I prayed before I tried to start it again.

This time instead of the non-sound it had made previously, it made an awful grinding, choking, backfire kind of sound before going silent once more.

Immediately I looked up, hoping that the noise hadn’t garnered any attention, but I was let down when I caught the curious brown eyes on me.

I cringed.

“Shit,” I said to my windshield. “Shit, shit, shit.”

The next time I looked in his direction, he was crossing the street and coming in my direction.

And honestly, it really wouldn’t have been that bad. Really, it wouldn’t have.

I think he was just trying to help.

However, as I got out of the car and stood up, I felt the button of my shorts pop.

And where did that button land?

On his dick.

It shot off of my shorts like I’d catapulted it from a slingshot.

One second he was walking toward me, and the next he was on the ground rolling around in the middle of the street.

I gasped and started for him, leaning over him awkwardly. “Are you okay?”

He moaned.

I touched his shoulder, and he flinched away from me.

“I’m so sorry!” I cried. “I don’t know what happened.”

Well, I knew exactly what happened.

The shorts I happened to be wearing were ones that I had to lie down on my bed to button, and since I was determined to wear them, I’d done something I obviously shouldn’t have.

I’d sucked my gut in, held my breath, and then buttoned the suckers closed.

When I’d used the restroom earlier this morning, I’d had to lean way back on the toilet after I’d pulled them up over my hips to button them. It was so difficult to do that my left thumb was still throbbing from how hard I’d had to work.

And apparently, my button had given up the ghost, so to speak.

“Did you throw something at me?” he gasped.

I shook my head. “No, I think it was my button.”

He cracked open one eye, clearly showing me his agony, and groaned.

“You’re shitting me.”

I shook my head frantically. “No, no shit. It really was my button.”

His eye skated down the length of my body, stopping on my shorts, which were now gaping open and showing off my underwear.

My period underwear that was decorated with a killer unicorn that was scratched and bleeding, holding a bazooka.

Immediately a wave of mortification stole over me.

“Is that a unicorn?” he wheezed, squinting his one open eye.

I nodded, looking away.

Except when I looked away, it was to see his hand cupping his balls, which then pressed the head of his cock even higher.

Was he hard? Surely, he was hard. Otherwise, I might be freaking out a little bit.

Someone that big when flaccid had to be an anomaly, right?

I quickly looked away and stood up, then offered my hand to him.

He let go of his balls with one hand and took the offered hand.

“Thanks,” he muttered, sounding breathless.

I winced again.

Then my eyes caught on the button of my shorts.

I walked forward a few paces, then bent over to pick up the blinged out button.

It was brass in the middle, but the edges were lined with tiny crystals, which also contributed to the bruising on my fingers.

When I turned back around it was to find him staring down the gap in his pants with a worried expression.

“Uhhh,” I hesitated. “Is everything okay with it?”

He looked up at me, down at my period panties that were still on display for everyone and their brother to see, then back at what was in his pants.

“I think one of my balls is swollen,” he said. “Can you look?”

I started laughing and shook my head, unsure whether or not he was joking or not.

“I don’t have that kind of medical experience.” I waved him off. “You’ll have to go to the clinic in town for that.”

“You have medical experience?” he questioned. “Surely it’s enough to tell me whether I should go have this looked at.”

I instantly winced inwardly. Shit!

“Uhh, no,” I shook my head. “A couple of classes doesn’t mean medical experience of all kinds,” I told him. “And anyway, there’s a clinic just down the road that is free for most clients that have insurance. You’d be better off going in there to get your ball inspected.”

He chuckled as he gingerly dropped his waistband back into place against his lower abdomen.

A very taut abdomen that I could tell was rippled to precision, perfectly defined, and was decorated with beautiful tattoos. Tattoos that started around his hip bones, and disappeared straight down into his fucking pants.

Goddammit!

I looked away from that belly into his amused eyes.

“Car won’t start?”

He looked at the car in question.

“No.” I sighed.

“That’s Krisney’s car?”

I nodded. “How’d you know?”

“Car screams Krisney.” He walked toward it and gestured for me to open the hood. “Pop it and let me take a look.”

I did, bending into the car and searching for the hood release.

After finding it I stood up and turned, only to find him staring at my ass.

“Why you driving Krisney’s car and not yours?”

I grimaced. “Seemed easier to sell that car. I was having a lot of problems with it anyway.”

Lies.

I was having trouble paying the note. It seemed way easier to just let it go back. But he didn’t need to know all of the details.

“I can’t find any fault in your shorts,” he said.

Then he opened the hood, blocking me from his view.

I looked up at the lightening sky and counted to ten.

Men were bad news. Bad, bad, bad.

They were trouble, too, and I’ve had enough trouble to carry me straight into my forties.

“How about my car?” I asked, moving around the hood to be closer to him.

“This car practically has a permanent stall at Hail,” he said. “I think Krisney spent more time driving a rental than this car. She should’ve told you that before she gave it to you.”

She did.

“She did,” I repeated my thoughts. “She said, and I quote, ‘I have a car that’s a piece of shit and likes to break down at the drop of a hat. It’s sitting in my driveway at home because it has sentimental value instead of in a junkyard where it belongs. Feel free to use it. If it breaks down, have it towed to Hail.’”

He snorted.

“Reed helped her buy the car.”

I looked at him blankly.

“Reed’s my brother.”

“Oh,” I said. “Cool.”

He grinned. “You haven’t heard that story?”

“What story?”

“The tale of Reed and Krisney.”

I looked at him blankly.

“Give it time,” he said. “You will. They’re like the town love story that wasn’t supposed to fail but did.”

I winced.

“Yeah, Krisney does have that brokenhearted vibe about her,” I amended, thinking about how heartbroken she’d looked when she saw me get into the car and drive off. “She let me borrow the car, but made sure to tell me that if I dented it, then I’d be paying for it to be fixed.”

With what money, I didn’t know, but I knew that I would break my back if I had to, just so I wouldn’t see that horror-stricken look in her eyes when she thought about her baby being hurt.

“Doesn’t surprise me,” he muttered, closing the hood. “I have to take that car in right there, and then I’ll come back for this one. You want a ride somewhere?”

I thought about that and then shook my head. “No.”

“You’re sure?”

I nodded. “I’m working at the Taco Shop, and I can get someone to give me a ride home.”

“What about your shorts?”

I looked down at said shorts and shrugged. “There’s a safety pin at the shop. I’ll use it for now.”

He grunted. “Just promise me something.”

He reached for my hand where I still had the button of my shorts enfolded in it and spread my fingers.

“What?” I asked a tad bit more breathlessly than I probably should have.

It wouldn’t do for him to know that he affected me in any way.

“Promise me that you’ll get those shorts repaired. If you can’t afford it, I’ll gladly put up the money for you to get them fixed.”

I snorted, but it took only moments for his serious face to penetrate through my apparent hilarity.

“You’re serious.”

He nodded once.

“I…”

I didn’t know what to say to that.

Surely, he was joking.

Right?

Wrong.

With one last glance at my legs, he walked back to the car he’d backed up to, loaded it up onto the rig, and took off within five minutes.

He looked at me and my jean shorts no less than five times.

Holy shit.