A Bad Boy Billionaire: Forbidden Alpha Male Romance (11 page)

I popped the hood by pulling the release. After checking the mirror for oncoming cars, I got out and headed to the front of my car. I managed to open the hood and use the rod to hold it up. All I had to do was wait and hope someone would stop and help me. Or I could call information and ask for a tow truck or something. I really should’ve signed up for Triple A before going cross country.

Two cars passed quickly, not slowing down at all. The third actually sped up as they passed me. Fuck. Is this really going to be my night? Twenty-four hours ago, I was in a mansion at an orgy with billionaires. And now this? As I berated myself in my mind, I saw an ancient white truck pull up behind my car. It stopped, and a man with graying hair got out and meandered toward me.

A smile spread over my face. I was pretty sure I could trust the old man to not try to hurt me. He nodded as he stopped in front of me. Under his blue coveralls, he had on a plain, white t-shirt. The smell of stale cigarettes and beer was heavy in the air around him. I wondered briefly what it was like to be as old as him. His eyes stared into mine.

“Thanks for stopping. I think it overheated,” I said.

“Smells that way.”

“That syrup smell?”

“Yeah, you busted a line somewhere most likely. Or your radiator blew a leak.”

I nodded as if I understood, but I was completely lost. “Can you help me?”

“Me?” He cackled with laughter. “No, sorry dear. I’m too old to be rummaging around under your hood, but I know someone in town who can help you.”

“Is he open this late?”

He looked at a watch on his wrist. “He might still be around. Do you want me to give you a ride to see him?”

“Sure,” I said, not having many options.

“Your car should be okay here, but I’d take the keys and leave your blinkers on.”

“Okay.”

“You’ll need to turn them on, miss.”

“Oh, yeah, sure. My name’s Nikki.”

“I’m Bart.”

I opened the driver’s side door and turned on the hazard lights. As they flashed, we walked back to his truck. The cab smelled about ten times worse than him. Several empty beer cans littered the floor, rattling as I sat down and buckled in. I hoped they weren’t recent, but I couldn’t tell for sure. He started up the truck and carefully put it into gear.

“What do you do for a living?” I asked as we drove away from my car on the side of the road.

“Beet farmer.”

Laughter burst out of me. “I’m sorry. It’s just that we’re headed to Scranton, and you’re a beet farmer, and…”

“I don’t get it,” he said seriously.

“You’ve never seen the Office television show?”

“No, but I heard about it. They just made fun of us, I think.”

“Nah, not at all. It was pretty funny, but the British version was better.”

He nodded his head, but I could tell he didn’t understand what I was saying any more than I’d understood him when he rattled on about the radiator.

“Is this guy a good mechanic?” I asked.

“Jerome? Yeah. He’s a good guy.”

“You think he’ll be able to fix my car tonight or by tomorrow?”

“I can’t say. He’s been through a lot lately.”

“Yeah?”

“His wife died about a year ago. He’s not been right since.”

I stared out the window in silence. Thoughts of Steven Cary popped into my mind. He had betrayed my trust by sleeping with my best friend and not telling me, but all the same, I wondered if I was making a mistake by running away from him and going to California. A few minutes after he picked me up, the old man pulled into a small auto repair shop. The lights were still on inside.

“It looks like he’s still here,” I said excitedly.

“Are you okay from here? I have to get going.”

“Yeah, thanks again.”

After I got out of the truck, I breathed deeply, trying to get some fresh air. He nodded his head at me then pulled away. I turned and walked into the lobby next to the garage. A tall black man sat behind a desk reading a bunch of papers on his desk. When the bell over the door rang as I came in, he looked up at me with a scowl on his face. His bald head reflected the naked bulb hanging from a string above us.

“We’re closed,” he said then looked back down.

“I’m sorry to bug you, but I’m not from around here, and my car broke down just outside of town.”

“Not my problem.” He didn’t even look up.

“Can you please help me?”

“Come back tomorrow, and I’ll see what I can do.”

“I can’t leave it on the side of the road all night.”

“No, you can’t, but again, it’s not my problem.”

“What the fuck is your problem?”

Instantly, I regretted snapping at him as he stood up. He examined me closely, as if he was sizing me up. I smiled, trying to look as cute as possible while still being serious. Jerome didn’t appear to be the type of man who liked to fuck around. His bulky frame towered over me. I briefly thought about taking off and calling someone for help.

“Okay, I’ll pick it up after I finish up this paperwork, but I won’t be able to fix it for a few days.”

I sighed. “No way you could work on it tonight?”

“I’m closed. I’ve been working all day.”

“Couldn’t you make an exception for me?”

Is he interested in me at all? I felt sorry for him losing his wife, but what really had me curious was the fact he was so racially different than me. It wasn’t too taboo to date a black man in the twenty first century, but I’d never been with one before. I reached out and put my pale white hand on his bare forearm. He glanced down at my hand then back into my eyes.

“You ask for a lot, young lady.”

“I’m worth a lot. Trust me.”

Neither of us wanted to say the words, but we both understood I was offering to pleasure him if he got my car done by the morning. The longer I waited to get it fixed, the higher the chance I would just go back to Maine a defeated woman. Steven and Maryanne would both love to know I’d failed at trying to leave and live on my own.

“I could also help with your paperwork.”

Does he really understand what I’m offering? Is he not into hot white chicks?

“I could use some help. I’m behind.”

“No problem. I’m good with numbers … and other things.”

He looked my body up and down, taking in every curve and patch of bare skin.

“Okay. Where’s the car?”

“Really?” I smiled and clapped my hands together. “It’s down the road. To the East. I was driving into town from Maine.”

“From Maine, huh? What did the car do?”

“The old man who gave me a ride said it was probably the radiator or a hose or something.”

“Pancake smell?”

“Yeah, exactly.”

He nodded his head up and down. “Wait here. I’ll be back in a bit. Is it front wheel drive?”

“I don’t know. Do you want me to start working on anything while you’re gone?”

“No, wait until I get back and take a look at your car.” He nodded his head outside. “You can get some dinner across the street if you want.”

“Actually, that sounds great. I haven’t eaten in hours.”

“I’ll see you in a bit.”

I walked outside as he locked up and went to get in his tow-truck. After I looked both ways twice, I crossed the road, half expecting Michael Scott to come barreling down the road and hit me with his car. On the other side, I entered the diner just as Jerome drove off to rescue my car. A waitress behind the counter looked up as I walked in and sat down on a stool in front of her.

“What can I get you?” she asked as she chewed gum.

“Anything on special?”

“Not really. I’d stay away from the tuna tonight.”

“Gotcha.” I picked up a menu. “How about an omelette.”

“You want anything in it?” she asked, a pen poised above her order pad.

“Some peppers and cheese maybe?”

“Drink?”

“Coffee and some orange juice?”

“Coming right up.”

She turned and handed the order ticket through a small slot in the wall to someone in the kitchen. The rest of the diner was empty.

“My car broke down. I’m waiting for it to get fixed,” I offered when she turned back around.

“Jerome, huh? He’s a strange one.”

“Yeah, I heard about his wife,” I said, as if somehow it was okay for me to partake in Scranton gossip.

I smiled and sat up straight as she looked me over, trying to size me up.

“I’m from Maine.”

“Why’d you come to Scranton?” she asked, leaning against the counter.

“I’m actually on my way to California.”

She nodded, as if everything about me suddenly made sense. “Just be careful with Jerome’s heart, okay?”

“What?” I cocked my head to the side as I looked at her.

“He doesn’t stay late for anyone, and you seem like the type of woman who would…”

“Who would what?” I interrupted, daring her to say something bad about me.

“You just seem like a young woman who is exploring her sexuality.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Your clothes for one thing. And your make-up.”

“You can tell that from how I look?”

“I don’t know, maybe it’s a vibe I’m getting from you.” She shrugged her shoulders. “I was at Woodstock,” she added, as if that somehow made any of it make sense.

“Cool.”

She laughed. “You kids always say that, but you don’t know. That show was all about love and exploring sexuality.”

Okay…another crazy woman, I thought as I nodded my head politely.

“Are you from Scranton?” I asked, trying to change the subject.

“Yeah. And no, I’ve never worked for Dunder Mifflin.”

It was my turn to laugh out loud. “A beet farmer drove me into town.”

“Bart? He’s no beet farmer.” She rolled her eyes. “He was messing with you.”

“Damn…” I muttered, shaking my head from side to side a few times.

After a few minutes of silence, the waitress delivered my omelette and drinks to the counter. She walked away to give me privacy while eating, which I appreciated. I ate the eggs, cheese and green peppers, savoring each and every bite. The toast was a bit hard, but I didn’t care. I washed down the food with the orange juice. When I was done eating, my coffee was the perfect drinking temperature.

The waitress brought over my bill. I paid, leaving a twenty percent tip for her. She smiled and waved as I stood up, as if she knew what was going to happen once I went back across the street to check on my car. As I opened the door, the bell rang again. Outside, I saw the tow-truck was back. My car wasn’t anywhere in sight, but I figured it was inside one of the two bays of the garage.

Once I got across the street, I went inside to sit in the lobby and wait for him to give me news. The drive from Maine had been a long one. My body ached all over as I sat on a semi=comfortable couch. Soon after I sat down, I leaned back, allowing myself to relax. That was a mistake. Pretty soon, I couldn’t keep my eyelids open any longer. I fell asleep as the sun descended in the sky outside.

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

When I opened my eyes, I saw Jerome sitting at his desk watching me. He looked away, but I’d seen him. I sat up on the couch and stretched as I yawned.

“I’m sorry. I was so tired. Do you want me to help with the paperwork?”

“It’s all done,” he said simply.

I stood up. “Shit. I feel bad.”

“Don’t feel too bad. Your car is going to take a little longer than I thought.”

“Really?”

“Bart was right. You got a hole in your radiator. No one around here has one for a car that old.”

“Fuck.” My expression changed as I thought about what I was going to do.

“Gotcha,” he said, pointing and laughing.

“What?”

“I was just fucking with you. The car is done too.” He stopped laughing. “I parked it outside. We just need to settle up, and you can be on your way.”

Is that what we’re calling it? Settling up? Actually, it’s my sexual identity being shaped, I thought then said, “That’s great. Do you have somewhere private we can go?”

He nodded, nod saying a word. Nervously, I followed as he headed into the garage. On the far wall, a short, steep set of stairs led up to a loft above the shop floor. I was impressed as I stood in the expansive area that did offer privacy. Jimi Hendrix and Jim Morrison posters hung on the wall. In one corner, I noticed an unmade bed.

“So, about that paperwork,” he said.

A mischievous smile spread across my face. “The paperwork, huh? I thought it was something else you wanted help with.”

“Don’t tease me, girl,” he snapped.

I jerked back, surprised at his outburst. He stepped forward and placed one of his hands on my arm. When I didn’t move away or say anything, he took another step toward me, his massive fingers still touching me. We made eye contact. I saw sadness in his face, like it had been etched there by his grieving for his wife. He moved to kiss me, but I stepped back.