Page 30 of Covert Affections (Shadow Agents/PSI-Ops #5)

The knot in her stomach didn’t ease, and she decided not to wait around to find out what fate had in store for her.

Lindy put the car in gear and accelerated so quickly that she almost missed the huge truck that had pulled out and onto the road, blocking it entirely.

She stopped the car quickly, her brakes squealing, her heart racing, and the seatbelt locking tight across her chest. She checked the rearview mirror, afraid she might see the coyote in the street, waiting to run her down.

There was no sign of it.

There was also no indication the truck was going to move anytime soon.

It took her a second, but she realized there was no driver in the cab of it, the seat clearly visible and empty through the windshield.

She glanced around, wondering where the driver was and why on Earth they’d have left the truck there, in the road, unattended.

All of her inner alarms went off, telling her to get the hell out of the isolated area and back to where people were.

She tossed the car in reverse, did a three-point turn, and raced back to the traffic jam eagerly, ready and willing to sit in the mess if it meant she wouldn’t be alone on a side street with her thoughts of the past and a giant coyote.

Turns out, the road wasn’t closed after all, but it had been backed up, though she still wasn’t sure why because she’d not actually seen any construction to speak of.

It took forty-five minutes, but she made it.

The sight that greeted her as she pulled into the parking lot left her jaw dropping.

She slowed the car to a crawl, her foot barely touching the accelerator, her mouth still open as she pulled in.

The lot was jam-packed with vehicles, most of which were pickup trucks in various states of cleanliness, from mud-splattered to pristine and shiny.

There was a line of men that had formed outside the entrance of the bar.

It weaved through the parked vehicles and around the building, snaking back so far that from her spot she couldn’t see where it ended.

A cross between elation that her post had worked and fear for how Charley would react came over her.

She managed to find a small opening next to a big truck to park her car.

She exited the vehicle, cupcake box in hand, and all eyes came to her.

She paused in her step, her inner darkness rejoicing at the turn out.

From the quick scan of the line, there was no shortage of hotties.

Nearly all of the men were in jeans that hugged their muscular thighs, offering up a tempting visual.

Some had on button-up, flannel shirts with the sleeves rolled showing off tanned, toned forearms. A few had on t-shirts that stretched across broad chests and defined biceps.

Many were wearing ball caps or cowboy hats.

Every one of them looked amazing, and her darkness beat her from within to pick three or four and screw the hell out of them. It had been so long since she fed that side of herself that she nearly gave in to the urge.

“Willpower be thy friend,” she whispered, digging her nails into her palm, and pressing a smile to her face as she walked toward the men and the entrance.

Whispers and outright catcalls greeted her as she approached the men.

One of them nodded his head to her, tipping his cowboy hat. “Ma’am.”

Lindy stopped, glanced upward and said a silent prayer that she could restrain herself from suggesting everyone make a giant pile for her to jump into. It would be like a ball pit at a fast-food restaurant meant to entertain children but for adults—and filled with nothing but hot dudes.

Heaven.

Her gaze slid along the row of men, cataloging faces, her darkness doing its version of a rating scale—one to doable.

She was also picturing each of them in a pair of gray sweatpants, trying to do the math in her head on how many pairs she’d grabbed in the super sale versus how many men had shown for the job fair.

She was halfway through visually scanning the line when her darkness flared so hard and so fast Lindy stumbled over nothing, nearly dropping the cupcakes. She righted herself and found her attention being pulled to the very end of the line.

Fate was laughing at her—hard.

There, standing at the end of the line, was the single most attractive man she’d ever seen in all her life.

He had sandy blond hair that hung just shy of his broad shoulders and green eyes that were all too easy to picture staring down at her.

Though, they did remind her a lot of Fluffy’s eyes, which made her grin, fighting the urge to call the man Fluffy or Murder Kitty.

The man was well over six feet tall and had on a pair of faded jeans that hugged his muscular legs and the ass of a man who spent a lot of time in a gym.

It was an ass she could easily imagine grabbing a hold of as he pumped in and out of her.

The T-shirt he was wearing tugged at his biceps, nearly making her mouth water.

She’d never wanted to be a T-shirt more in her life.

He was well over six feet tall with a body to die for, shoulder-length blond hair, and eyes so green they reminded her of newly formed leaves. That alone won her over, but the second he grinned at her, all hope of her being able to control her urges was lost.

She glanced upward again. “You suck.”