9: CRESTTOOTH BRIDGE

MIRANDA'S POV

Lazarus kissed both my palms before he escorted me to the bus. He was an excellent mechanic. He had all the tools one would need for a vehicular emergency. With the help of some of the other guys, they got the bus out of the mud easily. The masculinity and testosterone were strong in the air.

“So, Miranda, can I see you again?” Lazarus proposed.

“Hurry, we gotta go.” I heard Nigel scream from his seat.

“Yes, you can stop by to visit me anytime you want.”

“Is that an invitation inside your home?” He sought, wiggling his eyebrows, being silly.

“How about you come over for dinner sometime? Here’s my address,” I wrote it on his palm with my pen. “My mother is a superb cook.”

“OK, it's a date then.”

I blushed. This guy was one of the hottest guys I'd ever met, and he was interested in me. “Umm, do you have a cellphone? I could give you my number.”

“No, I don't. Phones aren't relevant in these parts,” he chuckled. “But there’s a pay phone nearby. I will use it to call you some