I wrinkled my nose at that.
What a bastard.
I was so happy for the three of them, but they were so disgustingly in love that I wanted to douse them with a spray bottle. It’d been a little over a year since Levi had officially moved to Whynot, and I’d watched my little sister and two friends become the happiest people in the world. They were even talking about getting a dog. Planning to build a giant house. They were going all the way, and I wasSo. Damn. Happy. For. Them.
So now I was on rescue duty.
I wasn’t sure I could actually complain. I liked helping people when I could.
With a sigh, I got into my truck and eased out onto the street. My shop was just a couple minutes away. So was the hotel. Dropping a stranger off would take me ten minutes tops in a town as small as ours.
I wasn’t even sure how I’d spend the rest of my day after playing hero. I could catch up on the books I wanted to read. Could actively search for the smuttiest stories to buy for the little free library so I could continue to wage war against my prudish neighbor.
Or, I could organize my closet. The one with my sex bench, floggers, handcuffs . . . That’d probably leave me more frustrated than anything else, given the layer of dust accumulating on it all.
Maybe I’d go get coffee and make myself useful. There was a wedding at Whynot Stay tomorrow, but folks were setting up today. From everything I’d heard about it, the couple sounded like an absolute nightmare.
I’d been the ear for everyone’s complaints.
Evie told me that they changed their minds last minute on the buttercream and requested whipped frosting for the cake.
June mentioned the bride had emailed her three times a day in the last week about the flowers.
Austin made me proofread an email response after the couple questioned the hotel contract about incidentals.
It was moments like this where I was happy my work involved cars, tools, and listening to music at the garage. Occasionally I’d get the random old-timer in who thought they knew cars better than me, but otherwise—I didn’t have to deal with customers like that.
Regardless, I had to dosomething. If I sat around the entire weekend, I’d just get restless and grumpy.
I slowed my truck as I spotted a car in my lot.
“Well, fuck,” I whispered.
A woman leaned against the brick wall of my shop. Stark raven-black hair fell like a curtain down her shoulders. No makeup, yoga pants, and a tank top that showed off every curve.
I couldn’t stop staring at her.
Be cool, be cool.I hopped out of the truck.
“H-i.”
My voicecracked.
Fuck.
What the fuck was wrong with me?
I could not believe my voice just cracked. I was a grown man in my thirties, andmy voice had just cracked.
Electric blue eyes pinned on me. She looked like she wanted to murder me. “Hi?”
“I’m Dallas,” I said.
She scowled. “And I’m Houston?”
“What?”
“Are we not naming cities in Texas?”
