I squeeze my eyes shut in embarrassment as the man’s voice softens next to me.
"Do you have a spare?" he asks and I wince.
“I’m not sure?” I reply, phrasing it as more of a question than an answer.
"Pop the boot, yeah?" he says.
I’m about to walk to the front seat as my sister beats me to it.
“I’ve got it!” she sing-songs.
She pops the trunk as the giant Alpha digs through the back of the vehicle. He lifts the compartment and gives me a wide smile.
“Looks like we’re in luck,” he says.
He pulls out the tire like it weighs nothing and places it on the ground at the front of the car.
"Let me just go grab my kit," he says, going over to his van and opening the back door. "Dinnae fash, folks, we'll be back on the road shortly. Seems we have some bonnie American damsels in distress in need of a helping hand." It has the people in the van laughing and my cheeks heat over it.
He comes back with some tools, making quick work with the jack before getting down on his bare knee. The skin digs into the gravel without a care, his kilt riding up and showing off his meaty thigh.
"Ah, looks like a large nail gotcha," he says, easily using the wrench on the lug nuts, taking off the tire.
"So it wasn't my driving," I say loudly, so Birdie can hear from where she leans against the hood.
"I wouldn't go that far," the man says, and I cross my arms over my chest. He laughs. It's deep and easy as he continues working on the tire. "Didn't mean to offend. I've changed many tires on these back roads."
"Glad to know I'm not special," I say off-handedly, and the man shakes his head.
"Now, I certainly didn’t say that."
He takes the old tire off, putting the new one on. I glance up at the van and see an older woman gawking at his show of masculinity, and I can't even blame them. This man is quite the specimen.
I might have my heats taken care of at facilities, and haven't had a boyfriend in nearly a decade, but it seems I can still appreciate a hot Alpha when I see one.
The kilt and the rolled up sweater sleeves don't hurt one bit. Uncharacteristically, I wonder what his scent is, and immediately shake the thought out of my head.
I'm just tired. The travel day has wiped me out, and this man has been our savior.
"Do you have much further to go?" he asks and I clear my throat.
"No, we're headed into town."
"Good. You'll want to have this temporary tire replaced. MacHenry's is good, he'll give you a fair price. Tell him Lain sent you," he says, tightening the last lug nut before using the jack again.
"Lain," I repeat.
He smiles again, his jaw sharp and strong as he digs into his black little satchel around his waist.
"If you and your sister find yourself in need of a tour guide, I'm the best there is, I'll even give you a discount," he says, handing me his card. "But I'll need to know your name in case you decide to reach out."
I arch a brow at him, pushing my glasses closer to my face. "Maisie, and this is my sister Birdie," I say, pointing at the vehicle and they exchange waves.
"Well, Maisie, I've got a van filled with tourists who have a castle to see. Drive safe. Don't forget, MacHenry's. If I find out you booked your tour with Rory, I’ll be highly offended." He walks away whistling for his dog. "Come on, Fergus.”
The dog rubs past my leg, my hand stroking his long fur before he trots behind his owner, getting into the van.
The tourists clap when Lain gets back on the van and he gives them a bow, but he doesn't drive off right away. He stares at me for a long moment and I stare back in confusion before I get into the car and start the engine.
