Free DirtyInterludes by Jodie Becker Page B

This is nothing.”
    “A bit far from home, aren’t you?”
    He shrugged the question off, then crouched to check the
tire. “What the hell?”
    Bridget crouched beside him to stare at the tire. It looked
fine to her, if still deflated. “What is it?”
    He ran his hand along the treads and dipped his head on a
curse. Max cast her a searching look as though he couldn’t figure her out.
    “What?” she asked.
    “Your tires have been slashed.”
    “No. That can’t be right.”
    He grasped her hand in his warm and wonderfully smooth one.
“Here.”
    The ragged edge of raised rubber was unmistakable. “Oh no.”
    Max stood, leaving her to learn the damage to her tire. The
air compressor fell silent. Tears of frustration pinched at her eyes and she
sniffled. How could Gillian do this? Dropping her hand, she checked the time.
It was too late to call anyone to swing by to pick her up and she’d probably
have to call a cab and that was more time she couldn’t afford. “I’m going to be
late,” she mumbled.
    Calling a number, she started to organize for a pick-up.
    “I could drive you.”
    She paused and pressed the cell to her shoulder. “Pardon?”
    “You said you were going to be late. I could drive you.”
    Lungs expanded. “Are you sure?”
    One shoulder hitched up. “I got nothing better to do.”
    Relief weakened her knees and butterflies took flight in her
stomach. “Oh thank you. I’ll give you money for gas.”
    “Don’t worry about it. I’ll get my keys and meet you by the
garage.”
    She retrieved her cello and carried it over to his garage, a
rendered structure separate from the house. Unlike hers, which had a simple
carport. The Lexus chirruped and the trunk clipped open and she put her cello
inside. Moving over to the passenger side, she slipped inside, the leather seat
whispering as she sat. The car smelled of pine, men’s deodorant and something
uniquely Max. Max clipped in, thankfully now wearing a sweater. “Where to?”
    She gave him the address and he typed it into the GPS. The
car started with a smooth hum and he pressed his hand on the back of her seat
as he reversed. Bridget’s heart did a crazy little hip-hop at the thought of
him touching her. Clenching her knees together, she tried to call her desires
under control.
    Jazz music rumbled through the speakers. Something that
surprised her. She didn’t expect Max to have a sophisticated palate. Turned out
she might’ve known less about him than she thought. They drove in silence and
all she could think about were his hands. The hands pressed over the steering
wheel. Every time he changed gears, her body would tremble with need. Being so
close to him played havoc with her libido.
    Clearing her throat, she tried to think of something to say.
“So…Michigan?”
    He glanced at her. “Yep.”
    “That’s…nice.”
    He grinned as he turned a corner. “Yep.”
    She shifted in her seat. “I didn’t know you liked jazz.”
    “Does that surprise you?”
    Yes. “No. I mean, I thought maybe you’d like rock or
something.”
    He grinned. “I like that too. But I prefer the old
crooners.”
    “Why?”
    “I don’t know. I never fit in with everyone else liking the
pop garbage.”
    Bridget giggled. “I can relate. Most people like me are
expected to like Bach and Mozart and I do. But I also like the def metal
stuff.”
    Eyes widened as he shot her a look of disbelief.
    “Does that surprise you?”
    “Yes. I mean, you’re… You portray someone a bit more
conservative.”
    Years of ingrained behavior she couldn’t shake. “It’s how I
was raised. My family is pretty conservative. Def metal was the equivalent of
doing drugs to my parents. In my teens I was quite rebellious. Even had my own
electro band.”
    Max chuckled. “Seriously?”
    Bridget folded her arms in defense. “Yes. We were pretty
good. Got a few gigs early on. But…”
    Max cast her a questioning stare. “But?” he prompted.
    She shoved the dark weight of