Page 22 of Small Town Boy

“Bronwyn,” I correct myself.

She nods, accepting the correction. She’s still giving me half a glare though. Which, oddly, I like.

Pushing off the truck, I open the door, ushering her out while reaching for my phone and tapping in one of the first phone numbers I learned. Sure, I have it saved in my contacts, but I’ve dialed it so many times that it’s faster to punch it in than to scroll looking for it. Bronwyn slides out, looking at me confused.

“A Noble Mechanic,” a familiar, comforting voice greets.

“Ken, it’s Noel.”

“Hey there, kid, what’s up?”

“Could use your help. We’re on Depot, right before the curve into Monument Center.”

“Not like you to not be able to fix something.” I smile at the compliment. Ken Noble—town mechanic, local hero, Kenzie’s dad, and all-around good people—calls it like he sees it. Always has. Which makes him saying things like that mean even more.

“It’s an old Hayes truck. I’m not messin’ with that.”

“I heard something about how they gave one to the new gal they got workin’ for them until her car arrives. Please tell me it’s not that one.”

“Sure is.”

He sighs loudly, no doubt a silent string of curses rushing through his mind. “I’m on my way. No need to wait. It’s late, so get that young lady home.”

“Will do.”

I hang up, turning back to the beautiful Yankee currently leaning up against the rusty flatbed. Who is currently staring at me like she could smack me.

“Who was that?”

“Ken Noble. Kenzie’s dad. He’s on the way with his tow truck.”

“Tow truck? But how will I get to work Monday?”

Work? That was her first thought? Oh boy…

“Well, if Ken can’t get it up and running by then, I’ll pick you up.”

“You will not,” she huffs.

“C’mon, let’s get you home. We can discuss this while I drive.”

Bronwyn pushes off the vehicle, crossing her arms and staring me down. “I can walk.”

“Nope. Don’t care that it’s not that far. I’m a gentleman, and a gentleman doesn’t let a lady walk alone at night.”

Narrowing her eyes, she gives me a once-over, for at least the tenth time since we met yesterday. “A gentleman, huh?”

“Yup. Southern one at that.”

I hold out my hand, smirking. To my surprise, she doesn’t fight me. Just slips her hand into mine, smirking back and letting me lead her to my truck. I open the door, help her in, and slam it shut. Feeling pretty good about myself, I round the hood and hop in to get her home.

“Keller Landscaping to the rescue,” I joke, firing up my truck.

“I don’t need rescuing.”

“Says the lady who was broken down in the middle of the road.”

“There’s a difference between needing assistance, and rescuing.”