“I was sick that day,” I lie, batting my lashes.
I clearly remember the day in Driver’s Ed when they assigned us to have someone at home teach us how to change a tire and sign off that we’d completed it. Grams happily signed the form without making me actually do it, glad for the excuse to avoid us getting dirty. We’re the shop-until-we-drop-for-a-good-bargain kind of people, not the ones who change their own tires. An unfortunate reality that’s currently biting me in the ass.
Heath doesn’t bother with a reply as he opens the back of my SUV and retrieves the spare tire and a tool bag I didn’t know existed. He carries everything around to the front driver’s side and crouches down. I watch, unblinking, as he rolls up his sleeves, exposing his tanned, powerful forearms.
Sweet mother of god.
My mouth goes dry, and for a second, I forget how to form a coherent thought. The man might be a moody son of a bitch, but damn if the view doesn’t make me forget why I’m not supposed to like him. It doesn’t help that I’ve had a thing for his arms for ages or that I find him stupidly hot.
He adjusts his hat, sweat beading on his forehead as he loosens the lug nuts. I may not know how to change a tire, but I’m weirdly proud of knowing the right terminology. Who would’ve guessed watching all thoseFast & Furiousmovies would come in handy?
Heath nods to the rear hatch of the SUV. “Grab me the jack.”
“Would it kill you not to be so bossy?” I grumble as I get it, trying not to audibly gasp at how damn heavy the thing is.
“Keep running that mouth, and I’ll make you put the tire on yourself,” he warns.
I narrow my gaze but stay quiet as I go to stand beside him. He sits up and reaches for the jack, but I hold it just out of his grasp.
“Hellcat, what are you doing? Give me that thing before you drop it and break your damn toe,” Heath demands.
I really shouldn’t like that he has a nickname for me so much—especially one that suits me so well.
I mask my flustered state with a smug grin. “Say please.”
He glares at me, gritting his teeth. “Be a doll and give me the jack so I can fix your tire before your stubbornness makes us both late.”
And there he goes again, reminding me why he’s the bane of my existence. It doesn’t stop the traitorous butterflies from taking flight in my stomach when I reluctantly hand him the jack and watch him set it up. The veins in his forearms bulge with each crank, and I can’t bring myself to look away.
I can’t help but notice his shirt stretched across his broad chest with each motion as he raises the SUV until the flat tire is suspended off the ground. He effortlessly swaps it out with a spare, and watching a man perform manual labor absolutely should not be this arousing. Thankfully, I’m saved from my runaway thoughts when he finishes tightening the last lug nut and stands, wiping his hands on the handkerchief from his back pocket.
Why is that simple act so damn attractive? It’s a silly piece of cloth, yet watching him wipe his brow has short-circuited my brain.
I find it difficult to breathe properly when he moves closer, an expression I can’t decipher flickering across his features. My heart rate speeds up when his gaze flits across my face, lingering on the spot just below my mouth.
I frown. “What is it?”
“You have a smudge,” Heath replies softly.
His unexpectedly gentle tone catches me off guard. My breath hitches as he reaches out and drags his thumb across my chin, grazing my lower lip. A spark of electricity ripples through me at his touch. The intensity in his eyes has me thinking he’s seconds away from pinning me against the truck and letting go of the rigid control he’s maintained for so long. I like the idea of getting him to finally snap and give in to this pull that’s been building for far too long.
I unconsciously shift closer, painfully aware of how near his mouth is to mine, every nerve in my body humming withawareness. He stills completely, his thumb lingering on my lower lip, his dark and wanting gaze dropping to my mouth.
Heath is the first to recover from our lapse of reason. He jerks his arm back to his side, flexing his hand. Did he find that repulsive, or could he be as equally affected as I am?
He clears his throat. “You’re all set. I’ll drive behind you to the ranch to make sure you get there safely.”
I shake my head. “That’s not necessary.”
“It wasn’t a suggestion.”
And… we’re back to grumpy cowboy mode.
I give him a mock salute. “Sure thing,daddy.”
His gaze darkens. “Careful, hellcat. You’re playing a dangerous game.”
I bat my lashes innocently. “Oh no. Better quit while I’m ahead, then,” I say, stepping back. “See you at the wedding, Heath. Better hurry up, or you’ll be late.”
