Him book 1 {completed}

1:Rudeness

I was so late.

In fact, I was later then late. I'm not even sure if that makes sense. But I just knew I was late. I constantly keep looking at my phone, wishing that if I stared hard enough at the time, it would freeze in place. I knew it was hopeless, but you can't judge a girl for not trying.

My busted, red pick-up truck, had just had it's last chug of breath. I was on the busy streets of New York City when ol' Betsy just gave up on me. I had to call a tow truck to come pick her up. I patted her side as they hooked her up to the tow.

"I called you a taxi to come pick you up. It should be here in a few minutes." The plump, tow truck, driver guy tells me. He had a really thick New Yorker accent. His greasy blonde hair was plastered to the sides of his chubby face. He stood at just about my hight. His name tag read Earl in fantasy font. His beady brown eyes stare at me with lust. "How long is a few minutes?" I asked ignoring his obvious, googling stare he was giving me.

He shoves his beefy hands in his navy blue pants as he thinks about it then says, "Maybe 30 minutes or so."

"30 minutes? I don't have time for 30 minutes." I grumble as I rub my temple. "If they don't come and pick you up soon enough, here's my card. A pretty lady, like yourself, shouldn't be out here in the dangerous streets of New York."

I flash him a fake smile at his lame attempt of a pick up line. "Thank you for ya help sir." I say taking the card. "Your not from around here are you? You have a country accent." he says scratching his head.

"I'm from New Orleans, born an raised on the bayou." I say making my Cajun accent thicker then it normally is.

"Earl we gotta go man!" his partner yells from the inside of their truck. Earl flashes me a gummy grin before he turns to leave.

Gross, he barely had any teeth in the front. I should be use to it, sense seeing it in the south is the norm down there. In some parts. But Earl lacked the qualities of the perfect man on my list. I know it sounds cliché. But you can't tell me that every girl doesn't have a secret list of the perfect guy for them.

He was defiantly not taller then me.

He sure as hell didn't have a perfect smile either.

He probably didn't have a Greek god body under his oversized work shirt.

He wasn't charming, or mysterious. I know I sound judgmental. I mean he probably was a pretty decent guy, if I got to know him. He just wasn't my type.

I spot Starbucks across the street and head over. I'm pretty sure the taxi driver won't be here in time, after I get me a grande vanilla bean frappuccino.

Those things were amazing. Once I put in my order I see a yellow cab pull up by the curb. I snatch my drink up and bolt out the door. "Miss, you forgot your change!" someone shouts at me. "You can ke... oof!" My sentence was cut short as I smacked into a tall figure. My milky white frappuccino went flying out of my hands. I watched as it splashed onto a pair of nice, freshly polished, black leather shoes.

"Are you fucking kidding me right now!" a deep voice exclaims. It sounded foreign. Not a New Yorker hint to it.

"Oh crap, I'm so..." I start to apologize when the deep voice cuts me off. "Well this is just fucking perfect! You know there's this thing called watch where your going. You should try it sometime." They say while angrily shacking their foot.

Anger heated my neck. "Look here you son of a..." my words stuck in my throat when I finally look up to see the rude man.

He had to have been at least 6 foot something by how tall he was. I'm only 5'6 and my head barley reached his shoulders. He had a five o'clock shadow on top of his perfect angular jaw. Soft, plump, pink lips had me lick mine with desire.