“Mom? Hey, what’s up? What? Well, that’s not good. Hold on, I can’t really hear you. Let me find someplace quiet to talk…what? No, don’t do that. I’m on my way.”
He punched the end button and pasted a regretful look on his face. “My mom’s car broke down,” he told Patty.
Disappointment filled those big brown eyes. “Oh no. That’s awful.” An edge crept into her voice. “Can’t she call roadside assistance?”
Wow. Had she really just said that?
Okay, fine. So maybe he’d flat-out lied right now. But what if his mom’s car really had broken down? Would Polly seriously still expect him to get jiggy? While his poor sweet mother waited on the side of the road, a sitting duck for roadside predators?
He shook his head in mock remorse. “Sorry, babe, this real-life hero needs to come to his mother’s rescue. I’ll see you around.”
“Wait, don’t you want my phone num—”
Cash was already heading far, far away from the pool table.
But he felt Patty’s eyes burning a hole into his back like a laser, and every instinct in his body told him the chick would follow him, if only to slip her number into his hand. He picked up the pace, his gaze honing in on the door. Ten more steps and he’d be outta here.
The door swung open just as he reached it. He halted, politely waiting for two middle-aged women to stroll inside. They wore matching lemon-yellow tank tops with the words Rita’s Getting Married! sewed on with blue sequins, and they were clearly sloshed, swaying and giggling as they burst into the bar. Two more women followed the duo. Then a third. A fourth.
Sweet baby Jesus. It was like a damn clown car. Female bodies kept popping through the door, all clad in those cheesy yellow shirts that had him inwardly cursing that wretched Rita.
He snuck a peek at the pool table and saw Polly eyeing him with the kind of determination you saw on the faces of suicide bombers—set on accomplishing the task at all costs. She took a step forward.
Crap.
He tapped his foot in impatience as more women streamed into the bar. Shifting his gaze, he noticed a doorway to his right. Another glance across the room revealed that his single-minded brunette had turned to retrieve the purse she’d left on the pool table.
Without hesitation, Cash ducked into the opening he’d spotted.
He found himself in a narrow passage that boasted yet another doorway. Making a beeline for it, he burst into a small room bathed in darkness and let out a breath heavy with relief.
Thank the Lord. Now all he had to do was wait a few minutes, peek out to make sure the groupie wasn’t looking, and get the hell out of—
“I know I’m not supposed to be in here!”
Cash’s heart stopped, then took off like a runaway train. As adrenaline surged through his veins, he spun around, searching for the owner of the panicked female voice that had just knocked ten years off his life.
“I need a few more minutes and then I’ll be gone, okay?”
Squinting, he discerned a shadowy figure sitting on a cushioned loveseat on the other side of the room. “Jesus, you scared the hell out of me,” he grumbled.
As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he was better able to make out his surroundings. Small room, maybe twelve by twelve feet. A stack of dusty boxes against one wall. Metal racks.
He walked over to the little couch sandwiched between more boxes and an aluminum ladder. “What are you doing sitting alone in the dark?” he demanded, peering down at the woman.
“I’m sorry,” she said sheepishly. “I know I shouldn’t be lurking in here like a serial killer, but like I said, I’ll be gone in a minute. There’s no need to tell your manager or—”
“Relax, I don’t work here.” He expelled a sigh. “I’m hiding out too.”
“Oh. Okay then.” She awkwardly patted the cushion next to her. “You might as well sit down. Can’t promise I’ll be good company, but you’re making me nervous looming over me like that.”
After a beat of reluctance, he lowered his body onto the loveseat. Then he squinted to get a better look at his fellow hider—and realized she was beautiful. Like absolutely f**king beautiful.
Didn’t happen often, but he was stunned speechless as he let his gaze drink her in. Long waves of tousled, honey-colored hair. Big blue eyes. Delicate features and a lush mouth, pink and perfect.
Sweet Jesus.
This woman belonged on the cover of a magazine. Or maybe in a p**n o—one that starred the two of them and involved that sexy mouth of hers on every inch of his naked body.
His c**k promptly turned to granite, voicing its approval of the dirty images that filled Cash’s head. He clenched his teeth and breathed through his nose, trying to quell the rush of hunger that flooded his groin.
“Are you done staring at me?” she asked wryly.
Done? Christ, he hadn’t even gotten started. His gaze traveled south, snagging on the full perky br**sts outlined by a tight scoop-necked top, her shapely denim-covered legs, the red toenails peeking out of a pair of open-toed heels. His mental p**n o took a different direction, one that now featured his mouth and her naked body. Holy f**k. He’d been with his fair share of hot females, but this girl surpassed hot. She was a scorching inferno.
“You know what, Mr. Pervy Eyes? You’re not making a good first impression,” she announced.
Yup, she was right. He absolutely had a case of the Pervy Eyes. Snapping out of his lust-filled stupor, Cash wrenched his gaze off the beautiful stranger and distracted himself by glancing around the room.