Tobias sits on the open liftgate of his truck bed with a mini ice chest beside him and half empty lime-flavored Jarritos in both hands. My pulse jumps when he stands, his shoes crunching against the loose gravel with his every step. “And with her phone in her hand.” He stops directly in front of me. His grin is crooked, hat’s backward, and eyes a playful blue. Jesus, he’s handsome. “Hi, Tutor Girl.” “Tobias.” My voice comes out thick, and those lips of his curve even higher. As discreetly as possible, I swallow. “What are you doing here?” “You told me you’d answer.” He slides a half foot
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