Page 25 of Hero Hair

Teala exits her car and smiles at me through my windshield. Her workout clothing leave little to my imagination. I see every ripple of her abs and the swoop of her thighs as they glide to her knees. I swallow as I let my eyes wander up to the swell of her breasts, her long neck, and then wide, pink lips, straight nose, cheekbones so beautiful my critical eye can’t detect an imperfection. The women on my phone aren’t Teala. They might look similar, but I want this one.

Carefully, I open my car door and call her over. She ambles over, eyes curious. With my right hand I grab some random change I have at the bottom of my cup holder. I despise change. I’m killing two birds with one stone. I jiggle the coins in my palm and stand to face her.

“Twenty-two cents,” I explain, moving my hand down so she can see it.

She smiles. “Big baller.”

I smirk back, making sure to use the smile. “It might as well be a million dollars. Give me your hand.”

Teala raises one sculpted brow. “Okay?”

I dump two dimes and two pennies into her cool hand.

“If we lose this bet because of me, you get to keep that,” I say. I figure this show might endear her to our cause and relieve some of the tension she feels at letting me into her world.

She jerks her chin to the side. “The stakes are so high. How will you ever keep your hands off me, big man?”

She takes my hand and leads me to the elevator. As we ride up to her floor, she doesn’t take her gaze off mine in the reflection of the mirrored walls. Her eyes flicker with mischief. I like it because it’s a familiar look.

I also fucking hate it.