Never a great conversationalist, there was something about her that short-circuited his brain. She’s got a doctorate degree, probably rich, and probably stuck up her own ass. As soon as that thought hit him, he knew he was wrong. He hated people judging him without getting to know him, and he couldn’t believe he was about to do the same thing with her. Even if she was rich, it wouldn’t matter. Hell, I know that better than anybody.
Drying off, he stalked naked into the bedroom and jerked on clean boxers and jeans. Pissed at himself for trying to come up with a reason for not liking her, he pulled the T-shirt on over his head and ran his fingers through his hair.
As though he had no control over his thoughts, he remembered everything about Samantha. Her arms were toned, and observing her strain to lift the heavy tarp-covered animals, he could tell she was no stranger to physically demanding labor, even if it was more than she could handle on her own. For a second, his own mother flashed through his mind… he’d never seen her lift more than a martini glass.
Pushing that thought down, he settled his mind back to Samantha. The jeans she wore were worn at the knees. The rubber boots on her feet looked like they’d seen better days. She was hardly tricked out in expensive clothing, even for a veterinarian at work. And her truck. Her piece of shit truck. Why wouldn’t she dump it and buy a new one?
Unable to come up with an answer, he shoved his feet into his boots and walked into the kitchen. He’d been in Baytown for two months and didn’t have a definite plan on when to move on. Strange… but he didn’t have the urge to roam yet, satisfied to earn his keep and help out his friends. He was still renting the apartment over the tattoo shop from Jason. Baytown was now in full vacation season, and he usually worked Friday evenings and Saturdays at the tattoo shop. Nothing very complicated. Nor very interesting.
Mostly for vacationing families, Baytown wasn’t a haven for college students looking for a wild time. Usually, his tattoos were for someone on vacation who decided on a lark to get their child’s name tattooed on their wrist or a Celtic cross on their shoulder. Sometimes it was more challenging. Two weeks ago, a group of bikers traveling down the eastern coast had stopped at the pub and several made their way to the shop, adding ink to their already-tattooed bodies.
Last weekend, it was a bridesmaid party. He made sure the women were not drunk and they knew what they were doing when they signed the forms. Three of them got butterflies, two of them got hearts and flowers, and the bride had her soon-to-be husband’s name tattooed on her shoulder. Hope like hell the marriage lasts or she’ll be regretting that tattoo.
Shoveling down the eggs and toast while standing at the counter, Samantha crept back into his mind, and he wondered if she had any tattoos. He’d seen her arms, clear as a baby’s. The idea of inking something into her perfect skin had his cock twitch again. Jesus, down boy.
Besides his weekends offering tattoos, he still worked as the tow truck operator. Jason hadn’t been wrong, there were plenty of calls. Throwing in the volunteer firefighting, he stayed busy. Busy, but with no particular purpose. He snorted, shaking his head. Since when did no purpose bother him since he got out of the Navy? He’d never found a vocation or even a job that held his interest for very long. Drifting had become a way of life.
Rinsing off his dishes, he headed downstairs and into the garage. He glanced to the side where he saw Samantha’s truck. Finding Jason, he jerked his head toward the vehicle. “Is the truck running?”
“Yeah, Troy got it going.”
“Is it just running or is it reliable?”
Jason’s brows lifted. “What’s your interest in Sam’s truck? Has she decided to sell it to you?”
Chuckling, he shook his head. “Fuck, I wouldn’t have that piece of junk. Why doesn’t she get rid of it?”
“I don’t know. She said one time she kept it for sentimental reasons.”
“Let me know when it’s ready. I’ll tow it out to the clinic so she won’t have to try to make arrangements to come get it.”
Jason’s brows lifted again, but he just shook his head and smiled. If Jason thought his request was strange, he didn’t react. That was another reason they were good friends. Jason took him as he came, not questioning his every move. Not wanting to open himself up for the rare question that might come, he turned and hustled back into the shop.
That afternoon, he hooked up her truck and rolled out of Baytown, heading to the vet clinic. He turned off the main highway and rumbled down the lane. Looking ahead, he saw the large wooden sign. Hoofs and Paws Veterinary Clinic. He hadn’t paid attention to it the previous day when every fiber of his being was pinpointed on the woman sitting in the truck cab next to him. One side of the sign was a carved relief of a goat, dog, cat, and what looked strangely like a llama. He shook his head and his lips twitched upward.
The one-story brick clinic filled his view, and a glance gave evidence to the number of cars in the parking lot. Uncertain where to leave her truck, he pulled to the side of the building. Climbing down from the tow truck, he walked around to the back and began offloading her vehicle.
“You brought my truck back?”
The voice behind him was barely heard over the roar of the tow truck, and he looked over his shoulder… and down. Samantha was right behind him, her gaze darting between him and her vehicle, a crease settling between her brows. Today, she wore a white lab coat and blue scrubs, her name embroidered over the right breast pocket. Her hair was pulled back in a high ponytail but several wispy strands had escaped and now blew in the breeze. Her fresh-faced beauty and curves offered a siren’s call to him, but he was glad his sunglasses hid his perusal. Her dark, sharp eyes held a hint of fatigue, and he wondered how much rest she had gotten.
He simply nodded since the answer to her question was obvious and turned back to the task at hand.
“Why did you bring my truck back? I was going to get a ride into Baytown this afternoon to pick it up.”
“Now you don’t have to.”
“I can see that. But I haven’t even paid Jason for the work. Do I pay you?”
“Nah. You can pay Jason the next time you’re in town.” Her truck settled to the ground and he moved forward, then knelt underneath the front to unhook the chains. Once accomplished, he stood and placed the chains back onto the tow truck, assuming she had gone back into the clinic.
“Joseph!”
His name burst sharply from her lips, and he turned, tilting his head to the side as he observed her. A scowl crossed her face, and it surprised him that no matter what expression she wore, he was entranced. That thought caused a scowl to cross his own face as he jerked off his gloves, slapping the dust against his thighs. Not saying anything, he waited.
She opened her mouth then snapped it shut, her expression now morphing into confusion. She shifted her gaze from him back to her truck again, and her stance relaxed as it appeared resignation settled over her. “Thank you for bringing my truck back. I’m sorry I snapped. I wasn’t expecting this, but it was nice of you to bring it all the way out here.”
He didn’t want her to apologize but wanted her to keep talking. Uncertain how to accomplish that feat, he inclined his head toward the sign by the clinic. “Llamas?”