What kind of a name was that, anyway?
Crow’s feet. How insulting.
“Ma’am,” he prompted again when she didn’t speak. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” Her tone was clipped. The second ma’am was what had given her back her ability to speak.
Her response was apparently entertaining, because this Adonis of a human being’s lips curled in obvious amusement that her hormones read as a roguish smirk. “You’re fine?”
“Yep.”
“So, you’re not concerned at all about your blown-out rear tire?”
Ahh. That explained the pop that she’d heard before she’d lost control of her car.
Doing her best not to reveal the fact that she’d been clueless that’s what the issue was, she grinned. “I was just about to change it.”
His brow quirked up. “You were about to change it?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
“In this weather?”
“Yes.”
“Do you want some help?”
She knew that she needed to continue her yes-streak but something stopped her. Yes! her inner voice screamed, she needed help. She had zero reception. It was freezing and as soon as the driving conditions made it safe, she needed to get back on the road.
So why, why was the word not falling out of her mouth?
It was that damn independent streak. The one that might literally lead to her demise if she didn’t suck it up and agree to this gorgeous man’s assistance.
Knowing what she had to do she took a breath and managed to force herself to say, “Yes.”
At her response, she watched as his bad-boy half-grin blossomed into a full-blown mile-wide smile and the sight took her completely by surprise. This man’s smile was lethal. It was deadly. Her chest ached. Sure, that could be due to the freezing weather conditions, or it could be because she was having the first known case of smile-induced cardiac arrest.
“What?” She asked when he continued smiling at her like the Cheshire cat, if the Cheshire cat was a sexy roman gladiator.
He held her gaze and she felt naked beneath his visual assessment. Her heart picked up speed as she waited for his response. When his perfect lips parted, she felt herself holding her breath.
“Nothing. Sit tight. I’ll be right back.” With that directive the man pushed off the driver’s side window and started walking back to his truck.
Sit tight?No. Grace Wells did not sit tight.
But what could she actually do if she got out? Why had she told him that she was going to change her tire? She didn’t know the first thing about changing a tire. But how hard could it be?
She started to get out but realized that she needed to put on her jacket, beanie, and gloves which she’d had the foresight to unpack when she was in the deserted parking lot putting on the chains.
As she put on her jacket she caught sight of her reflection in the rearview mirror. Her face was flushed, she wasn’t sure if her rosy cheeks were a byproduct of the cold temp or the hot man. Maybe a combo of both. Her eye makeup that she’d applied this morning was still holding up. Maybe she should put on a little lipstick…
No! What was she doing? This was not a date. She was in a snowstorm with a flat tire and a nice, very hot man had offered to help her. What she looked like was irrelevant.
Her brain knew that. Other parts of her body were celebrating because she’d thrown on her Levi’s that molded to her ass like a second skin for her road trip.
“Stop,” she chided herself as she tugged on her beanie and gloves.
Shit.Now she was talking to herself. Not just talking to herself, she was arguing with herself. This was definitely not helping her feel any less crazy.