Crash Into You. Roni Loren

      She smirked at the memory. The redneck had quickly regretted ogling her and asking if there was an up-charge for large breasts. “Yeah, not my proudest moment, but that customer deserved it.”

      He raised an eyebrow. “Uncle Patrick said you insulted the dude’s manhood… and his mother.”

      She threw up her hands. “Well, the guy was being a dick. What else was I supposed to do?”

      He pressed his lips together as if holding back a laugh.

      She cringed. “Sorry. Sometimes my mouth opens before my brain gets involved.”

      He chuckled, the deep sound so genuine the tension in her shoulders relaxed. “Don’t censor yourself on account of me. I didn’t hire you. I can’t fire you. So no filter necessary. Talk dirty to me anytime you want.”

      The corner of her mouth lifted. “If that’s your pick-up line, I’d work on it.”

      He frowned, his brows furrowing. “No good?”

      She sat her chin on her hand and shook her head.

      “Really? Huh.” He looked over his shoulder. “I’d bet Molly or Krista over there would eat that shit up.”

      She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m sure you could recite the Pledge of Allegiance and the sorority twins would turn cartwheels.”

      He nodded, his face serious. “That’s true. They do recognize my innate awesomeness. Too bad having a conversation with them is about as interesting as alphabetizing my CD collection.”

      She glanced over at the two girls in question. Both were giving her versions of the stink eye. He followed her gaze, and they hurriedly looked away. “I have a feeling I’m not getting an invite to girls’ night now.”

      He turned back to her, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “So, if I were to need a decent pick-up line to entice, let’s say, a smoking-hot blonde who likes to talk dirty to have a burger with me, what would you suggest?”

      Her cheeks heated, unable to fend off the effects of his easy charm. No wonder he had girls following him around like ducklings. She glanced down at her desk, wishing she could say yes, but knowing she couldn’t. She and Reid Jamison lived on ­different planets. She didn’t have time for flings or dating. She needed to work, get through the summer, save every penny, and hopefully have enough to afford the move to Austin for school in the fall. She looked up at Reid. “I would suggest you find someone who has time to say yes.”

      “Not even enough time for a simple burger?” he asked.

      She tapped her desk calendar. “I’m in high demand these days. Gotta book months ahead.”

      He snorted. “Good thing I wasn’t talking about you then.”

      She fought a smile. “Good thing.”

      He rose from his perch and gave her a quick grin. “Just know that I’m a pretty thick-headed guy. Takes me a while to get the point.”

      She straightened the papers he had mussed on her desk. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

      He gave her a mock salute. “Nice to meet you, Brynn LeBreck. Be seeing you.”

      Reid bumped a shoulder against the entrance to the guesthouse and tried to get the humidity-swollen door unstuck. When it didn’t budge, he gave it another hard shove and it released, banging against the inside wall. “Piece of shit.”

      “If it’s such a hardship, you could always move back into the main house,” said a female voice.

      Reid startled and nearly dropped the sack of groceries he’d been carrying. “Jesus, Aunt Roslyn, what are you doing in here?”

      His aunt rose from his couch and crossed her arms over her chest, her face as tight as the bun in her dark hair. “You got a package today.”

      He set the bag of food on the counter of his efficiency kitchen and stared at the large cardboard box in front of her. “Okay. I appreciate the heads-up, but no need to personally deliver it.”

      She picked up the box and flipped it over, dumping the contents onto the coffee table. A slew of items spilled across the surface and Reid groaned. Handcuffs. Floggers. A blindfold. A few brightly colored vibrators and a number of other things even he couldn’t identify. Son of a bitch.

      She turned her angry-parent death stare on him. “What the hell is going on, Reid? Do I need to call Dr. Leonard? I know he only sees patients until eighteen, but he may make an exception for us.”

      His jaw clenched, the ridiculous suggestion making his blood curdle. “Back off, Aunt Ros. This isn’t even my stuff. Jace must’ve had it sent here since he’s staying with his sister right now. And what are you doing opening my packages anyway?”

      Her stern expression didn’t soften. “The label said R. Jamison. And I have the right to open anything that’s put on my doorstep.”

      He scrubbed a hand over his face. He was going to kill Jace. Beyond the embarrassment factor of being in the same room with his aunt and box of sex toys, he knew where this was headed. “I’m sorry. He should’ve never sent this here.”

      She eyed him with her trial lawyer shrewdness. “Reid, I don’t have to remind you how important it is that you do nothing to bring attention to yourself during this campaign. Your uncle is running on a family values platform and I refuse to let your… issues put that at risk.” She sighed and shook her head. “I thought we were past this.”

      “My issues?” he bit out. “What the hell? I haven’t gotten in any trouble since high school. And even then, it was just stupid shit. You act like I’m a goddamned criminal.”

      She walked around the coffee table and came to stand in front of him, her diminutive stature doing nothing to diminish her power­ful presence.

      “But your father was. And this”—she cocked her head toward the emptied box—“was his specialty.”

      Like he needed a reminder. “It’s not my stuff. And even if it were, I would never hurt a woman. I’m not him.”

      “Genes are a powerful thing, Reid. Don’t underestimate them.” She touched his shoulder, her tone gentling. “I know you can overcome them, but don’t put yourself in bad situations. I’m only looking out for you.”

      And the campaign. She didn’t say it, but he knew that’s what she meant. “Right.”

      “Get rid of this stuff. I can’t even imagine what poor Vanessa would think if she saw you with this filth. Don’t mess things up with her—she’s a fine young lady.”

      Vanessa. He hadn’t thought about her all day. Hell, he hadn’t thought about any woman since the new receptionist had started at work. He didn’t know what it was, but something about Brynn held him captive. He’d barely gotten a lick of work done in three days.

      But he definitely couldn’t tell his aunt about Brynn. He knew Ros had heard wedding bells the minute he and Vanessa had started to see each other a few months ago. Both she and his uncle tag-teamed him regularly, pushing for him to make the relationship with the mayor’s daughter exclusive. He crossed his arms over his chest. “I’ll take care of it.”

      “Thank you.” Ros gave his shoulder a quick squeeze, and then headed past him. He didn’t unclench his teeth until she’d clicked his door shut behind her.

      Stalking to the couch, he pulled his phone from his pocket and hit speed dial.

      His best friend answered on the first ring. “Hey, brother.”

      “Jace, not only am I going to kill you, I’m going to do it slowly and painfully.” Reid sank onto the couch.

      Jace