For a moment, Cooper couldn’t answer. Shock had stopped his brain. She must really be desperate.
Then he regrouped. “All I’d ask is a chance to start over and be good neighbors.”
Suspicion drew her eyes down to slits. “That’s all you want?”
“That’s it. Just doin’ a neighbor a solid.”
“Really?” Her tone had changed. The brittle defensiveness was fading from it.
“Really. And for what it’s worth, I’m a mechanic. Your fuel pump is clogged. I can help you with that, too. For now, if it’s going to start, you gotta ease up on the pedal a little, and don’t force it.”
He wouldn’t say she was staring at him, exactly. She was blinking too rapidly for it to be a stare. It was like her hard drive had crashed. Then her eyes stayed closed.
When they opened again, they focused on him. “Why would you help me, after everything?”
He repeated what he’d said at the start of this conversation. “Because I’m a better person than you think I am.”
“And what am I, then?”
A lot of words crowded at the head of the line, most of them flippant or downright hostile, but Cooper was no fool. He was finally starting to get a read on this woman, and he thought all those landmines inside her were troubles she’d faced on her own.
“Tired,” was the word he chose.
She blinked again—just once this time, like his word choice had been a direct hit—and then her face began to crumple. It started at her lips; they began to tremble. Then the line between her brows deepened to a chasm. She was going to cry.
He really hated when women cried. It activated all kinds of weird things inside him, from the urge to escape to the need to slay dragons.
But she didn’t cry. Her head sagged forward for a moment or two, and then she looked up again, composed but twice as weary. “I need to go. Can we ... can we talk about this later? Tomorrow?”
“Sure. Wouldn’t mind going back inside and getting a shirt on, anyway. But I’ll hang out here and make sure your car starts.”
She nodded and turned to the steering wheel. Her car—it really was a piece of shit—started on the fourth try. It didn’t sound happy about it, but it was running.
Siena turned back to Cooper. She didn’t smile, but her expression was calm. Improved. “Thank you, Cooper. I’m sorry I’ve been ... I should have been nicer.”
Cooper smiled. “Me too. A restart would be good for us both, maybe.”
She nodded and, with an awkward half-wave, put up her window. Cooper moved out of her way and watched as she backed up and pulled off the lot.
When he went back into the dojo—fuck, he was cold—Dave was still at the desk.
“Careful, man,” he said. “That chick is obviously way off the hot-crazy chart. I do not recommend.”
“She’s raising her kid sister alone. She’s got a lot of shit going on. Anyway, I’m not trying to get with her, I’m just being a good neighbor.”
Dave gave him a wry look. “Whatever you say, Coop. Whatever you say.”