Page 48 of Clearly Charmed

‘Back tire is definitely punctured,’ I said.

The storm continued to rage, and I pulled over.

‘We should wait it ou…’

Before he could finish his sentence, I had the door open. I yanked my jacket over my head and raced to the rear of the truck.

If the stinging rain hadn’t doused the heat in my veins, the flattened tire seeping into the mud most certainly would have.

‘Do you have a spare?’ He held his hands over his head as if that could keep him dry.

‘No. The front right tire blew a year ago, and I used the spare then. The autobody shop returned it, but I never put it back on the truck.’

The rain blew sideways, soaking us to the bone.

‘What about AAA?’

I pushed sopping wet hair from my forehead. ‘This is rural Colorado; what do you think?’

He shoved his hands into his pockets, water dripping off his chiseled chin. ‘Let’s get back in the truck. No use in standing in this while we figure things out.’

We raced back to the doors and hopped inside. Thunder rolled overhead, followed by a white streak flashing across the darkening sky. ‘Shit. That’s not good,’ I said.

His wet brows pinched together. ‘Isn’t this area in a drought? I’d think you’d be grateful for the rain.’

‘Rain is good. Lightning is not. With all the dry timber in the forest, a wildfire could spark very quickly. And a lot of rain at once can cause flooding and mudslides. They’ve already had to close a few trails because of recent storms.’

Fat drops thudded against the roof, and I pulled out my phone and called Aster. It rang a few times before going to voicemail. I left a message and then did the same with Lia and my grandmother. Hopefully, someone would get back to us or at least send a tow truck.

‘We might be here for a while,’ I said.

‘I don’t mind. Any time spent with you is good.’

His light blue shirt clung to the planes of his chest. Water dripped from the hem of his jeans. Every inch of him was soaked, but he still gave me a genuine smile, and I tried not to get lost in the way he looked at me like I was something to be treasured.

‘You need to stop doing that.’ I grabbed my phone, glancing at the screen for any kind of reply from my family.

‘Doing what?’

‘Pretending you like me so you can get more information for your story.’

‘I am not pretending,’ he said firmly. ‘Anytime I’m around you…’ He closed his mouth. Shot a hand through his wet hair, tugging at the ends.

‘Might as well finish, not that I’m inclined to believe anything that comes out of your mouth.’

‘When I’m around you I feel light. Like a two-ton boulder has been lifted off my chest,’ he admitted. ‘Never in my life have I felt that way around another person. Quite honestly, I prefer to be alone. Guess that’s why I’m a writer, because it’s a solitary endeavor.’

There was something in the way he held my gaze. It wasn’t so much honesty as vulnerability. Like he knew he was taking a risk but didn’t care about putting his heart on the line. In all the years I’d spent with Max, he’d never been so open. His love came with walls. There were certain topics, issues, he never wanted to discuss. His family, his childhood, were complicated. Too many divorces and parents who’d let him down. Maybe that’s why we felt safe in each other’s arms, because we’d experienced the same pain and disappointment. But he also refused to show any kind of willingness to share his true feelings. As if speaking them into existence would make him less of a man. That somehow I would view him as smaller.

The thunder rolled on, and Bryce reached for my hand. ‘Do you feel it?’ he said in a whisper.

‘Feel what?’

‘The tug in the center of your chest? An ache that swells whenever we’re together?’

It would be easy to lie to him. Pretend that he was alone in his feelings. But I’d spent my whole life being brave. Pretending that my mother constantly leaving, people staring at me oddly, whispering under their breaths, was all okay. But I was tired of bearing that heavy weight. Of holding everyone in my world, besides my family, at arm’s length.

He took my hesitation as an opportunity to inch back across the bench seat. Slide a chilly hand over my cheek that made me shiver.