Flirting With Fire

Chapter One: A collision

Why is this town so damn sleepy? 

Whitney looked around at all of three buildings beach-front in the small town of Willow. There was a café, a surf shop and a tourist bureau. She laughed humourlessly and reached out to turn up the radio. The sooner she got this done, the sooner she could be out of here.

The crash happened quickly, she didn't see the massive red truck pulling onto the main road, and before she knew it her little red beetle was spinning off the road into a small ditch. She initially felt paralysing shock as she sat in her seat staring out at the ditch, then it quickly disappeared and was replaced with extreme anger. She hopped out of the car turning to the road furiously, how dare someone knock into her! She may be tiny but Whitney Huntingdale had a fantastic mouth on her.

'You should watch where you're driving blondie,' the guy spoke from the drivers seat not bothering to get out. His tone was dry and uninterested, almost amused at the furious blonde before him.

Whitney's mouth gaped open, for the first time ever she was at a loss for words. Just who the heck did this guy think he was? 'Are you kidding me right now asshole? You knocked into me!' She was practically seething at his comment. She rested her hands on her hips and stalked toward him getting ready for a fight when he popped open his door and hopped out.

Whitney paused in her attack and stepped back. The guy was well over six foot tall, his black scruffy hair was shooting out in all directions, yet managed to look sexily mussed. He had piercing blue eyes she could see from three meters away and a tan so even and brown only a surfer could have. Yet she didn't recognise him from her school days, she definitely would have remembered a guy this good looking if he went to her small school.

'Finished?' The guy smirked.

'Finished what?' She bit back shaking her head quickly, back on task Whit.

'Perving,' He laughed. 'Because when you have we can sort this mess out.'

She furrowed her brows at him drawing herself to her full height, 'Excuse me asshole, could your head be any bigger? I wasn't perving on you, that's gross!'

Gross? Really? What am I twelve? Whitney groaned internally as the guy before her was definitely laughing now.

'Whatever, I'll give you my number. If there's any damage call me, I'll fix it or pay cash upfront whichever is easier.' He offered scribbling his number onto a piece of paper. 'I don't want any insurance people involved.'

Whitney nodded and took the piece of paper glancing down at it.

Riley - 0426 345 9881

The handwriting was written in a beautiful cursive, which surprised her, glancing at the guy again dressed in a pair of green board shorts and a plain white singlet, he looked very unkempt.

'Ok...' She squinted at the paper again, 'Riley, you'll definitely be hearing from me.'

He flashed her a cheeky grin, 'Course I will, in fact you're pretty lucky I gave you my number at all. A lot of girls would kill for that, make sure you keep it safe.'

Whitney rolled her eyes not believing he just said that. 'Are you actually serious right now?'

He laughed again and hot or not; Whitney was beginning to think this guy was something of a grade-A dickhead. She crumpled the paper with his name and number into her pocket and sighed. Another cocky personality in this town wasn't anything new. In fact Riley here could have been just like any one of the few boys that went to her school, over confident and over rated. She was happy to get quickly to task. Fix up the family home, hand the keys over to the realtor and then get back to her real life. The less time spent in this town the better. She turned to head back towards her car when Riley called out to her.

'Hey I never caught your name.'

'I never gave it to you,' She retorted over her shoulder without even bothering to turn around. She climbed back into her baby stroking the dashboard, what did he do to you huh? Reversing carefully out of the ditch and back onto the road, Whitney made her way along the coast road eventually turning off onto a familiar looking dirt path leading up to a beach front home.