“Oh, fine! But he better not come near me,” she said, giving up as she climbed into the truck.
Josh closed the door with a huge smile. Yes, ma’am.
He sure did like this Southern girl he’d met this morning, and he wanted to get to know her a whole lot better.
Chapter Eleven
Around five hours into the trip, Shelly was getting antsy. She started to understand why people took planes or, more importantly, why she took planes.
This trip was just too damn long. If you included the fact that there was a ninety-pound hairball sitting behind her and giving her the evil eye, then you not only had a long trip, you had a long trip from hell.
On the plus side, she had plenty of time to sit and study Delicious Daniels.
He’d put on a pair of black aviator glasses when the sun had made an appearance this morning. He had his arm resting by the window as they drove along the highway while his other hand lightly gripped the top of the steering wheel, giving her a lovely view of those strong, thick biceps of his.
He’d removed his jacket once they had gotten in the truck, and the black shirt he was wearing molded like a second skin to all of his bulging muscles. As she ran her eyes down to the jeans he seemed to live in, she had to catch herself from licking her lips. They cupped him like a lover’s hand, and then wrapped tightly around his thighs.
Unconsciously letting out a small grown, Shelly was mortified when he turned and caught her staring. She quickly brought her gaze up to his. Deciding what the heck, she gave him a flirty smile and a raised eyebrow.
“Keep your eyes on the road, Josh.”
He gave her a smug grin, and then turned back, facing the long stretch of road ahead of them.
The whole way out of Chicago Shelly had bitched at him about the hairy dog being in the truck until he had told her if she mentioned the dog once more he’d move him into the front seat. That had shut her up real quick.
They’d stopped for coffee with a quick breakfast at one of the fast food joints and had been driving straight through with no breaks since.
They had discussed everything from how he’d met Mason, which was in grade school during year seven to be exact, to when she had met Lena, which, of course, had been when they had started working at University Hospital.
She now knew he had one brother, Jeremy, who lived in Chicago, and their parents had retired to Florida. He now knew that she’d grown up in Savannah, Georgia and was an only child.
When they had exhausted all the small getting-to-know-each-other talk, he’d told her to relax and maybe try to sleep, but she had known that would be impossible with the dog staring at her. Instead, she had rested against the window, watching the scenery pass by, but she was getting antsy and needed a pick-me-up.
Reaching into her bag, she pulled out her iPod and the car jack and moved to plug it in.
Josh looked over at her. “And what do you think you’re doing, Georgia?”
“We need some music,” Shelly told him, finally getting it hooked up.
“We had music,” he pointed out as his huge dog decided to take that opportunity to move forward and rest his head against Josh’s seat.
He’s eyeing me, Shelly thought with a shudder. He definitely wanted to eat her, and she knew it.
“What?” she asked the dog as though he would actually answer her.
“He just wants to know what you’re about to force us to listen to.”
Rolling her eyes, Shelly smiled at him with a mischievous grin, and he shook his head.
“I don’t like that look.”
“What look?” she asked innocently.
“That one. The one that says you’re about to subject me to something I’m not going to like.”
Shelly laughed, making sure she had the volume up good and loud, and then hit play. As the music blared through the speakers, she took great delight in Josh’s pained expression as he whipped his head around to face her.
“No.”
“Yes!” Shelly told him over the loud beat of the music.
“No way, Georgia!” he told her, trying to grab the iPod.
She pulled it out of reach and hit pause. The music stopped.
“You need to concentrate on the road,” she told him seriously.
Rolling his eyes, he asked, “How am I supposed to concentrate with that noise playing?”
Shelly laughed again. “I told you no about that,” she reminded him, pointing to the beast, who took that moment to cock his head to the side and raise an eyebrow.
“Oh, don’t act sweet and innocent with me,” she said to the hairball.
“Are you talking to my dog? You do know he can’t understand you, right?”
Shelly harrumphed. “Well, it was worth a shot.” She paused, grinning. “Now, shhh. I’m enjoying—”
“I’m not listening to Shania Twain, Georgia.”
Shelly leaned her head back against the seat, singing to him with a sexy smile. “But, Josh, I feel like a woman!”
Josh shook his head at the woman beside him, singing the ode to all females very loudly. He couldn’t believe that he was actually sitting here, listening to this song, and smiling.
Shelly had rolled up her jeans to mid-calf and slipped off her shoes, resting her sock-covered feet on the dashboard. She was tapping her foot and smiling as she sung about wearing men’s shirts and short skirts.
Looking over at her, he thought, this is honestly the first time those lyrics have ever been appealing.
She had a grin on her face that was lit with pure joy, and every time she hit that ridiculous chorus, she sung the lyrics at the top of her lungs.
The woman is insane, and he liked her—a lot.
All she needed now was a cowgirl hat, a pair of boots, and some Daisy Dukes, and she would have been one of his sexiest fantasies come to life.
She continued singing about the best things of being a woman.
Josh found himself smiling and—holy shit—tapping his hand on the steering wheel.
When she got to the main line of the song, he saw her look him over and lick her lips.
“Damn, Josh—you make me feel like a woman,” she sang to him with lowered lids.
Oh shit!
He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to grab her, pull her over his lap, and kiss that sassy smile right of her smirking lips—but he was on a damn highway and needed to concentrate.
“When we stop, I want you to play that song again.”
The song ended, and he was relieved when it changed to The Who singing the anthem to Woodstock and stoned teenagers. “Babba O’Riley”—classic.
“I thought you didn’t like that song,” Shelly pointed out.
He looked her over, letting out a deep breath. “Suddenly, I’ve had a change of heart.”
“Is that right?”
“Yeah, it is. I want it to be playing while I have my hands all over you.”
Shelly laughed and asked, “So you can make me feel like a woman?”
“Hmm,” he answered, watching the road.
He didn’t even hear what she had said, and before he knew it, she was right up beside him, sliding her hand smoothly along his thigh. He whipped his head around, and their eyes met.
“Careful, I need to concentrate.”
“So concentrate. I just need to touch you for a minute,” she told him while continuing to stroke his thigh.
Josh let out a ragged groan, moving his arm away from the window to grip the steering wheel tight with both hands.