Just Give In… Read Free Page B

particularly heavy cast-iron drum. The pain was solid, well deserved. His foot would recover.
    “That’s some car.”
    Back and forth she shifted, like she was embarrassed about her mode of transport, but after seeing his mode of habitat, he couldn’t understand why she would care.
    “I bought it in Tennessee.”
    “Long drive for a car,” he noted, realizing he was making conversation, lingering in her company.
    It was her breasts. Had to be.
    Evil breasts.
    His body hardened at the thought of touching her evil breasts.
    “Tennessee was on the way,” she responded, hopefully not tuned in to his thoughts.
    “Surprised the car made it,” he told her, channeling his thoughts into another more socially-acceptable direction.
    Seeing her wince, he made a mental note to stop commenting on the dicey condition of her vehicle, but it was a little hard to ignore. The inside of the car appeared to be in as bad shape as the outside, with a blanket thrown over the backseat like a tarp. The tarp was most likely designed to keep out prying eyes—like his own. A gallon jug of water was sitting in the front seat, some food wrappers, a pillow, a half-open gym bag and a small sack for trash. Her home.
    As he continued to stare at her mode of habitat, a flush crept up her face, and he knew her habitat was a taboo conversation topic, too. That worked out well for him since he wanted her off his place.
    All of her, including her breasts.
    “You’re staying with your brother?” he asked pleasantly. As parting remarks went, it wasn’t the best.
    “Oh, yeah,” she answered quickly, moving to stand in front of her car, blocking his view.
    “Good,” he said, not that he believed her. Considering the state of her car, her finances, he didn’t think she was related to anybody in town. If she had family, she would have gone there first.
    Probably the brother thing was a lie, as well. In which case, she’d be jobless, living out of her car…
    Not that he cared.
    She reached for the door handle and yanked it open, the damn thing sticking so hard that her shoulder was now probably dislocated.
    Jobless, dislocated shoulder, living out of her car…
    Not that he cared.
    “You need a job?” he asked, sounding exactly like he was offering her a job. The woman turned, her eyes swimming with hope—until it was gone.
    “You know someone who’s hiring?” she asked, her eyes not so hopeful, unless a man was looking.
    “I need some help here,” he offered, thinking quickly. “Organizing.”
    Not that he wanted organization, not that he wanted human companionship, especially of the female variety, especially of the homeless, jobless female variety.
    Most likely, she was needy.
    His old army buddies would be laughing their asses off.
    Of course, if any of them saw her breasts, they would understand.
    “I’m a great organizer,” she said, hands clasped tight in front of her, prayer-like, and he realized how much she wanted this.
    A job.
    Not him.
    Not that he was even thinking sex. A man who lived in a junkyard with one good eye was no prize. Nope, Sonya had made that clear, and that was long before his junkyard phase.
    No, it wasn’t the sex. It was the idea of this woman being out there alone. Jason might not be the biggest people-person in the world, but sometime people deserved better. Sometimes—rarely, but sometimes—Jason noticed.
    “It’d be temporary,” he added, in case she thought he was charitable.
    “That’d be perfect. It’ll give me a chance to settle in town and find a permanent position.”
    “Yeah. I can’t afford a lot,” he said, in case she thought he was loaded.
    “I don’t need a lot,” she told him, obviously guessing he wasn’t loaded.
    “Good.” They stood there and stared for a minute, and she didn’t seem to mind his eye patch. Since she was going to be working for him, not shrinking in horror was a plus.
    Finally she spoke. “I’m Brooke Hart.”
    “Jason Kincaid.” He should have