"Fix me a burger, miss America?" To this I laugh. Something about Miss America fixing people burgers is funny to me.

Hardly anyone can make me laugh. But since she seems to have this weird way about her that can I decide to throw her a bone and distinguish my pissed off mood.

"Only if you promise not to take out your aggression on me if I fuck it up."

We both laugh at the stab at our first conversation.

"Seriously blondie, when’s your shift over?"

"Now." I say staring up at the clock. "Why?"

"Thought you might like to spend it with me."

~

"Really, I thought I was bad ass… until I fell off and chipped my front fucking tooth." Grabbing the bottle from my hand she laughs at her memory.

"Mom was pissed. She had to skip out on one of her oh so glamorous parties to take me to the orthodontist."

Pressing the bottle head to her lips she leans back, downing the alcohol, as both hands wrap around it.

After about ten seconds I grab for it, successfully pulling it out of her hands.

"Hey, hey! Your killing my bottle!"

A series of drunken laughs leave the back of her throat. At some point her laughter stops, and she scoots up the hood of my car, resting her head against the windshield as she stares at me.

"How old are you Ashley?"

"Twenty-eight." Is my honest reply.

"You might be in some trouble then."

"Why’s that?"

"I’m seventeen."

There’s a brief moment of silence between the us.

"I haven’t done anything to get in trouble for." With a smirk I add; "With the acceptation of buying a minor alcohol they’ve got nothing on me."

"…Yet"

Rolling over onto my side I smirk, and place a hand on her right thigh before speaking. "Yet? What exactly are your intentions Spencer Carlin?"

She doesn’t answer me. Not that she has to. I know exactly what’s going through her dirty little mind. Making her mine is going to be way easier than I thought it’d be.

"Its getting cold. We should get outta here… your place?" The blonde runs a hand though her shoulder length golden locks, waiting for my reply with a nervous look on her face.

"My place is… occupied." I respond.

"Occupied? What you got a wife and three kids at home waitin’ for ya?"

Answering honestly could be the worst decision I make, but my guts telling me the truth isn’t going to be a problem for her.

"Just one… just one kid."

She acts just how I pictured she would. Leans closer to me, arm wrapping around my neck as she gets as close as possible. "Your wife’s at home? Waiting for you?"

I nod, focusing on her scent more than her words.

"What’s her name?"

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out she’s turned on by this. I imagine she finds the possibility of leaving her scent, her taste on someone else’s woman highly erotic. I know I do.

"Hayley."

"I wonder, what would she do if she knew you were going home with someone more than a decade younger than you?"

Our lips can’t be more than an inch apart when she rolls to the side, and slides off the car.

"Coming?"