“Loosen the nuts first. If you try to do it when it’s jacked up, the wheel will just turn.”
She scooted down and slid the wrench onto the nuts, gripping it tight as she attempted to turn it. Her teeth grinded, determined to do this by herself. It wasn’t that she wanted to prove anything to Cam Hartson. It was her own fragile confidence that needed the reassurance.
And when the first nut finally came loose, it felt like a huge victory.
“Yes!” She wanted to pump a fist. Behind her, Cam chuckled.
“Those can be tough. You’re doing good.”
“Thank you.” This time her cheeks really did blush.
It took another ten minutes to change the tire. He helped, but she did most of the work. She appreciated the way he let her take the lead, murmuring suggestions and encouragement when her patience got the better of her.
“Don’t drive too fast on that spare,” he told her, as he lifted the blown tire easily. “Are you headed home?”
She shook her head. “I have an interview.” Her body felt like it was in a heady rush. “I need to head straight there.”
“Whereabouts? I can follow you, just to make sure there are no problems.”
“It’s fine, I can—”
“Mia,” he said, his voice low. She looked up at him, and his gaze was locked on her face. “I want to make sure you’re okay, that’s all. For my own peace of mind. So I’m going to follow you. Not because I’m a creeper or a scary guy, but because I’m a man who was brought up to care for women and make sure they are safe. Once you’re parked up, I’ll turn around and go on my way.”
There was something in his voice – a catch – that made her chest tighten. “Okay,” she said softly. “Thank you. My interview’s at the G. Scott Carter Distillery. Only a couple of miles from here. Do you know it?”
“Yeah, I know it.” There was something in his eyes that she couldn’t quite make out. But she didn’t have time to decipher what the heck it was. So she let him carry the blown tire to his car, and using the Honda to shield her from the road, she quickly shimmied out of her pantyhose and slipped her feet back into her heels.
It wasn’t perfect, but when she got to the distillery she’d do what she could to look presentable. Maybe even make a joke about it at the interview. Tell them that she was good in a crisis.
God knew, she’d had enough of those this year to last a lifetime.
“Cam,” she called out, as he closed his trunk.
He looked up at her, his head cocked to the side. “Yeah?”
“I’m sorry that you’ve been inconvenienced again.”
He pressed his lips together, and nodded. “It’s okay. I’ve got nothing better to do.”
As soon as she’d parked outside the distillery, Cam turned his car around and headed back up the road toward the highway. He was late for dropping his car off at the dealership, but he figured they’d forgive him. Brian had booked the car in for him, no doubt dropping his name like a pro. And the delay was worth it, anyway.
His lips curled up as he remembered how much she’d protested against his help. Mia Devlin had fire inside her, and he liked it.
It hadn’t taken him long to find out who she was yesterday. One phone call to Maddie, his brother Gray’s wife, and he knew that Mia was Sam Soper’s great-niece, newly arrived in town with her two boys, but no husband.
And yeah, he liked the no husband bit a lot.
She’d gritted her teeth as she yanked at the lug wrench, muttering to herself until the nut came loose. And all he’d been able to do was stare at her. Take in the soft curve of her slender neck, covered with a dusting of golden hair, swept up into a low bun. Her blouse was slightly transparent in the morning sunlight, revealing the warmth of her skin. And that skirt. Grey and tight and emphasizing the enticing curve of her hip. He’d fisted his hands to stop himself from reaching out to trace the curve of her spine as it disappeared below the waistline.
What had he told her? I’m not a creeper. Yeah, right. That’s why he couldn’t stop staring as she’d pulled her ripped pantyhose down and slid her bare feet into those gorgeous heels, and the blood rushed to a part of him that had no business being part of this.
He sighed and tightened his grip on the wheel. It was pure sexual frustration, that was all. Could have happened at any time. He knitted his brows together, trying to remember the last time he’d had a date, let alone had sex, and he couldn’t even remember.
He’d been too busy. With football. With his headaches. With appointments at the hospital. But more than anything, he hadn’t even had the inclination. Sure, when he was younger he’d loved being the center of female attention. He’d revelled in the adulation and easy sex. But he was older now. More mature, and if he was brutally honest, easy sex was never as good as his teenage self had thought it would be.
All the best things in life were hard won. That’s why he loved playing football.
The sound of his phone ringing echoed through his top-of-the range speakers. He glanced at the dash, raising an eyebrow when he saw his agent’s name appear on the screen.