Asking for Trouble by Tessa Bailey

truck two hours just to get through to us.”
    Super helpful, Deborah! A Nerf football flew past her and got lodged on the dashboard. Restless energy became a tangible thing on the bus. Hayden knew she needed to figure out something quick. It appeared she was on her own in resolving this problem. She knew what she needed to do, but her reluctance to call Brent and give him the satisfaction made her dial his number extra slowly. Before he even answered, she was already irritated with him.
    Brent answered sounding amused. “We’re going to need a bigger boat.”
    Even in her annoyed state, she couldn’t help but feel a hint of relief that he hadn’t ignored her call after their argument the night before. “What are you talking about?”
    “Your personal ringtone is the Jaws theme song.”
    Hayden smirked as if he could see her. “Can’t see how that makes any sense. Jaws had a sequel. We won’t.”
    “Oh, yeah? Then why are you calling?”
    Shit. Just say it. “Try to keep the gloating to a minimum, but I need your…help.”
    “What’s wrong?”
    She was momentarily thrown off by how instantly and genuinely concerned he sounded. Why couldn’t he just gloat and make this easier for her? “Oh, not much. I’m broken down in a bus on the West Side Highway. With a bunch of kids who are about to go Lord of the Flies on my ass.”
    “That’s you ?” He cursed under his breath and she could hear the sound of tires squealing in the background. “They already sent over a car. They’re having to reroute traffic. You’re causing major delays, duchess.”
    “Not helping.”
    “I’m on my way,” he assured her, adding, “Don’t go anywhere.”
    “Couldn’t resist, could you?”
    …
    Lights flashing on the top of his Emergency Service truck, Brent pulled to a stop in front of the stationary yellow school bus, wondering not for the first time what the hell Hayden was doing on a bus with schoolkids. He radioed dispatch to alert them that he’d arrived on the scene, then climbed out of the vehicle, immediately searching through the windshield for Hayden. He’d been hungry for a glimpse of her since last night, but he’d never imagined it would be under such odd circumstances. A motorist passed the bus, blaring his horn, and Brent sent him a dark look.
    That pretty much summed up his mood since leaving her bed the previous night.
    She’d thrown him for a goddamn loop, after which he’d been treated to a nice little put-down by her mother on the way out. For a brief second, he’d actually felt sorry for Hayden. Mommy Dearest appeared to be about as maternal as a cobra. Not that he expected Mom to embrace him and invite him to her next women’s luncheon. After all, he’d just walked out of Hayden’s town house, hair all fucked-up, shirt untucked, with a look on his face that clearly said, Pardon my appearance , I just plowed your daughter . She’d looked him over and sniffed her judgment. Well, I guess we’re all entitled to a few mistakes now and again, she’d said, clearly pegging him as said mistake.
    After that little heartwarming confrontation, one thing had been abundantly clear. He’d made the right decision in leaving. Prior to that, he’d felt slightly conflicted about walking out, thinking maybe he’d overreacted. Her actions hadn’t seemed malicious or intentionally baiting. Then he’d been reminded by her mother why they’d wisely agreed to limit their physical relationship to one night. He didn’t need these people making him feel like gum on the bottom of their polished shoes. And she clearly wanted nothing more to do with him now that she’d gotten her fill.
    None of his rationalizations, however, did a thing to calm his constant, consuming craving for her. Her total abandonment, her screams of pleasure, drowned every other intelligent thought out until he only had the ability to think of next time. What he’d do to her, say to her, to get her wet. How many times he could make her