“You okay, Ma’am?”
With her phone clutched in her hand, she slowly turned her head, all too aware that her skirt was ruched up to her hips, exposing her panty hose, or what was left of them after they’d done battle with the ground.
That’s when she saw him. Thick, jean clad thighs. Black t-shirt that clung to his chest, and left her in no doubt that an eight pack was superior to a six pack. And then that face. Handsome, square jawed face, staring down at her splayed out on the ground, shoes kicked off, legs splayed out.
When they’d met a few days ago, at least she’d felt like his equal. For a start, she hadn’t known who Cam Hartson was then.
But now, she was at an extreme disadvantage. Not just physically, though that was bad enough. But situationally, too. She had an old, run down car with a blown out tire, and he was either going to find it funny as hell, or he was going to feel sorry for her.
Kneeling, she brushed the dust off her blouse, trying desperately to regain some poise. Her eyes slid to his, and sure enough there was amusement there. But something else, too.
Concern?
Damn he had such pretty eyes. They were way too distracting.
“Mia? You okay?” he asked, sounding genuinely concerned.
She got to her feet, and yeah, there were snags and runs all down her pantyhose. “I’m fine,” she told him. “Just a small snafu.”
“Did you fall out of the car?” His brows pulled together. “How come you were under it?” He walked around to the front of the Honda and dropped to his haunches, inspecting the tire. “Damn, that’s a bad one.”
“I dropped my phone,” she admitted. “I was trying to find a video on YouTube.”
His lips
twitched, but to his credit, he didn’t laugh. “A video?”
“One that shows how to change a tire. I wanted to do it correctly.” She looked at the spare on the ground next to her. “I haven’t done it before.”
Cam nodded. “You got tools?”
“Um. Probably.” There was a bag of them in the car, but she had no idea what was in there. “What will I need?”
“I’ll do it.”
“Oh no. I couldn’t let you do that.” She gave him a tight smile. “I’ll do it and get on my way.”
He eyed her carefully. “You’ll need a jack and a lug wrench.”
Walking around to the trunk, she pulled the big bag of tools toward her, and looked inside. Finding the jack was easy. It was the biggest thing in there, bright orange with four castors fixed to it.
The lug wrench wasn’t so obvious. There were about ten wrenches in there, all old and rusty. She pulled a couple out, turning them in her hand. They looked like the kind of wrenches you’d use for plumbing.
Cam’s body slid against hers as he leaned into the trunk and pulled out a long stick, that looked like something a band major might twirl.
“This one,” he said softly, as he stood back up, his arm brushing against hers again. She swallowed hard at the contact.
Even harder when she realized she could smell his cologne. Damn, he smelled good. Like a forest on a rainy day.
It took a lot of effort for her to stand up and turn to face him. “I should have known that’s the lug wrench. I don’t know why I didn’t.”
She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, and his gaze dipped down, his eyes hooded.
“You wouldn’t need to know unless you were changing a tire.”
Feeling the heat of his gaze on her face, Mia tried to stop her cheeks from flaming. There was something about this man. Not just his confidence, that was too obvious. He had the kind of swagger you only got from being a big deal, multi million dollar sportsman. Not brash or smug, just a pure, masculine assurance that made her throat tighten when she looked at him.
She took a ragged breath and stepped back. Unless she got the spare tire on her car soon, she’d have no interview, and definitely no job. “I should get this changed,” she muttered, walking around to the flat tire.