“This all for ya?” George asks.
“Yep.”
“She’s a looker,” he says, nodding to the door Crosby just walked out of.
“Harriette know you’re looking to replace her?” I tease. Well, I’m half teasing and half irritated. He could be her grandfather.
George lets loose with a belly laugh. When I say belly, I mean his belly is shaking beneath the suspenders he uses to keep his pants held up. “Son, my Harriette knows she’s the love of my life and has been for over forty years. Just because I recognize beauty doesn’t mean I’d ever replace the love of my life. One day you’ll understand.”
I don’t tell him that I know what love looks like. I grew up with parents who adore one another, and I’ve watched my cousin and four older brothers fall madly in love. It’s not that I don’t understand. No, the issue is that I’m jealous as fuck of a man twice my age over a woman I just met minutes before.
“Thanks for this,” I say, sliding my card back into my wallet and picking up the fishing line.
“Thanks for stopping by.” I can hear the smugness in his voice. He and I both know why I smarted off at him. It’s not that I think he wants to replace his wife. It’s because the dark-haired beauty, also known as Crosby, has me tied up in knots after one very brief conversation.
Pushing through the door, I move my sunglasses from the top of my head to cover my eyes as I make my way to my truck. I scan the lot, looking for her, even though I’m sure she’s already gone, when I spot her.
Crosby.
She’s got her head inside the trunk of her car, ass in the air, tempting as hell, and dangerous as fuck. Sure, Willow River is a safe town, but that doesn’t mean it’s okay to take unnecessary risks. I stop right behind her, and she doesn’t even notice that I’m there.
“Shoot,” she mumbles.
“Need some help?” I ask.
She startles, lifts her head, which she smacks on the trunk, and turns to face me. Her face is scrunched up in pain as she rubs the spot she just whacked on the back of her skull.
“Let me see.” I step closer and replace her hand with mine, checking her over. Gently, I run my fingers over the back of her head, checking for injuries. “No bleeding,” I tell her, stepping away.
“Thanks.”
“What’s going on?”
“That.” She points to the right rear tire that’s flat as a pancake. “I was trying to get to the spare to change it.”
“Do you know how to change a tire?”
“What? Because I’m a woman, I don’t know how?”
I shrug. “Just asking. Do you?”
“No, but I have my cell phone, and I’m sure the internet will help me.”
“Or you could let me do it for you.”
“I can’t ask you to do that.”
“You didn’t.”
“I—” She quickly clamps her mouth shut. I can see her internal battle. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” I give her what I hope is a reassuring smile. “Can you hold this for me?” I offer her my reel of fishing line.
“That’s the least I can do. I really appreciate you doing this, Rushton.” I don’t miss the way she uses my full name, when moments before I was Rush.
“It’s no problem. I’ll have you out of here in no time.” As I say the words, my phone begins to ring in my pocket. I don’t bother pulling it out to look at the screen. I know that it’s Sterling, and he’s wondering where in the hell I am. It doesn’t take this long to stop and pick up some fishing line. When the ringing halts and immediately starts again, I know he’s not going to stop unless I give him something.
“Am I keeping you from something?” she asks.
“Nah, I was picking up that”—I point to the fishing line in her hand—“for my brother. He’s just wondering where I am.” Instead of calling Sterling or answering his call, I send it to voice mail and type out a quick message.
Me: At Gunderson’s. Lady with a flat tire. I’m changing it, and I’ll be there.
Sterling: Of all the days for you to be a Good Samaritan.
Me: Ha! You know damn good and well, you would have done the same thing. Even today.
Sterling: Just hurry.
Sterling: But be safe. Mom will never forgive me if something happens to you because you were rushing to bring me fishing line.
Me: I’ll be there soon, and we’ll knock this out. There are nine of us, bro. We’ve got this.
I don’t wait for his reply as I slide my phone back into my pocket and get to work. In no time at all, I have the spare swapped out for the flat, and I’m tightening the lug nuts. “This isn’t meant for long-term driving,” I tell her. “You need to get a new tire to replace it.”
“Right. And do you happen to have suggestions for where I might do that?”
I glance up at her. She’s staring down at me. Her big brown eyes are filled with concern as she bites down on her bottom lip.
“Yeah, I do, actually.” I finish with the lug nuts, ensure they’re tight, and stand with the jack in my hand. “My brother, well, one of them has an auto body shop in town. He sells tires and will be able to put it on for you. Kincaid’s Auto Repair,” I say, moving to the trunk to replace the jack. Once I have it back in its rightful spot, I place the flat tire in the back as well.
“It’s here in town?”
“Yes. They’re open today. Why don’t you follow me over there?”
“Oh, I’ve imposed enough. You don’t need to do that.”
“I insist. In fact, let me give you my number. You’re new in town, so if you ever need anything, you can call me.”
She shakes her head, but there is a tiny trace of a smile pulling at her lips. “That’s sly. I’ll give you that.”
“What?” I feign innocence. Sure, I meant what I said. If she needs me, I’ll be there, but I won’t lie and say I didn’t have an ulterior motive. Sterling is probably losing his mind right now, and he’s depending on me; otherwise, I’d be taking her to coffee or dinner, maybe. I just don’t know how long this is going to take today, and I promised my brother I would be there for him. I don’t ever go back on a promise.
“Are you a player, Rushton Kincaid?” she asks.
I’m impressed she picked up on my last name from telling her the name of Declan’s shop. “Nah, not a player. Just a man who sees a beautiful woman he’d like to spend more time with.”
Her fucking smile could light up New York City on New Year’s Eve. “Your momma had her hands full with you, didn’t she?” she teases.
“We were perfect angels.”
Her head falls back in laughter, and it’s a sound I could listen to every single day. Deep, yet feminine all at the same time. Uninhibited.
“Maybe I should roll my jeans up. Shit is starting to get deep out here,” she jokes.
“Or you could take them off.” I bat my eyelashes at her, and another round of laughter ensues.