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Ella

I sink into my couch, careful not to spill my coffee. I’m still in my pajamas since it’s only seven. When I woke up thirty minutes ago, I stayed in bed, unsuccessfully trying to will myself to go back to sleep to finish my dream about Jack.

That’s his name. He texted it to me.

This is Jack Sanders. Save my number.

When Jack arrived at the accident, I was uncharacteristically mad and protective when I thought he might be mean to Tyler. Even in the short time I got to talk to him, I instantly liked Tyler. He was so endearing, exactly what I would have wanted in a little brother if I had one. But regardless of my initial thoughts, there was no denying my instant attraction to Jack. His intense and domineering aura called to me in a way that made my nerve endings tingle at his nearness. When his hand went to my lower back, I thought I might combust.

My annoyance at him faded further when he said he wasn’t going to fire Tyler and that they were related. He had a caring tone in his voice that I found sweet. Then he made sure I got home and questioned me about my back with deep concern… It all made me feel something I haven’t in a long time.

And now, he said he was going to bring me a car. My stomach dips when I think about seeing him again. It’s Saturday, so I wonder if he will dress casually or in a suit again. I’m embarrassed to admit, even to myself, how excited I am.

It would be a very long shot that a guy that good looking would be interested in me. He looks like the kind of man who likes tall, lithe, supermodel types. Or maybe young, short, skinny, peppy girls instead. But not a practically middle-aged, uncontrollably curvy woman.

Not that I mind my curves. After years of being told I would be so much prettier if I lost weight and letting that consume me, I finally realized it wasn’t worth the toll it took on my mental health to try to be the weight others thought I should be.

I still work out. I walk, and I try to eat healthy. But I accepted what I look like long ago—one perk of being a little older. You’ve already worked through all the bullshit society puts on you during your younger years, and you can reap the reward of learning the hard way and becoming a better version of yourself.

While I may have accepted all that I am, I recognize that some men still have preferences for women smaller than me. There’s nothing wrong with that, but it does make me a little bummed because I would bet Jack is one of them. I glance down at my phone next to me on the couch. Not that I expect to have a text from him, but regardless, I’m oddly disappointed there’re no new messages. Noticing it’s nearing eight, I decide to go for a walk and then get ready so I can, at the very least, look cute when Jack arrives. Sighing, I push myself up, down the rest of my coffee, and go to put on some yoga pants and a tank top.

Almost two hours later, I’m ready and making another cup of coffee when my phone vibrates from the coffee table.

Two minutes to ten. He’s prompt, at least.

Jack: I’m downstairs. Same place I dropped you off.

Me: Be right down!

I cringe a little at the exclamation point, but shrug it off as I head downstairs. Taking a deep breath to steady my nerves, I step outside. I glance at the spot Jack parked the night before and almost trip when I see him. He’s leaning against a matte-black Mercedes G-Wagon, dressed in dark jeans and a faded New York Mets t-shirt. The shirt is loose around his waist, but the way it hugs his chest and biceps almost makes me drool. Tattoos swirl around his right arm, ending in a blunt line around his wrist. The other arm is devoid of ink.

“Hi.” I internally kick myself for my lame greeting as his eyes track my approach.

He smirks. “Hi.”

I peer up and down the street. A black Yukon resembling the ones Tyler and Jack drove the day before is parked not far from the G-Wagon. But I don’t see anything that looks like a rental. “Um, I thought you said you were getting me a rental.”

“Actually, what I said was that I was bringing you a vehicle.” He tilts his head back slightly to indicate the car he’s leaning on.

My face pinches in confusion. I hold my hand up in a stop motion, completely confounded by what he’s saying. “You are out of your goddamn mind if you think I’m driving your company’s G-Wagon until my car is fixed.”

“Well, call me crazy then, because you are.”

I can’t help but gape at him, my mouth dropped open in shock. Leaning forward, he taps my chin with one of his fingers. That has me snapping it shut just before a gasp escapes from his nearness. His sexy, stupid smirk never leaves his face while he watches my reaction.

“Come on, hop in the driver’s seat. I can point out how to work everything. Then you can park it in your garage.” He pushes off the car, which brings us only a few inches apart. I have to look up to see his face. My gaze dips to his lips, and his smirk slowly fades as he studies me. I would give anything to know what he’s thinking. Neither of us moves for a moment until he clears his throat, steps back, and indicates I should go ahead of him, around the front of the car to the other side. I don’t get the hand to the lower back this time, but I oblige, going to the driver’s side and climbing in when he pulls the door open. My heart beats wildly with every second that passes in his presence.

After fifteen minutes of being so close to Jack, smelling his cologne, feeling a brush of his hand on my arm or leg as he points out different features of the car, my libido is roaring to life. It has been dormant for a while, even before I broke up with my ex, but I guess I’ve been waiting for a certain someone to awaken that in me.

Jack steps back to allow me space to slide out of the seat. He’s frowning down at me when he asks, “How’s your back? Is it still bothering you?”

In my logical mind, I’m sure it’s because he’s worried about a lawsuit, but a small part of my mind tells me it’s almost like he cares about whether I’m okay or not. “I appreciate you checking, but I’m okay.” In an attempt to wipe the frown from his handsome face, I joke, “I promise you, Jack, I won’t sue you.”

His chest expands at my words as his tongue rolls over his bottom lip. The action sparks warmth to bloom at my core. His deep baritone does nothing to lessen my arousal. “I’m not worried about you suing me. You are the only thing I’m worried about.”

My eyes widen at the insistence in his tone as I swallow hard. I’m so thrown off by his admission that all I can reply with is a soft, “Thank you.”

For the rest of the day, I try not to read too much into his words and remind myself that, despite what he said, he was only treating me like that because his employee hit me while on the clock. Certainly not because he could possibly be feeling the same way I am…