Page 181 of Pumpkin Spice Promises

One night, Carson had been too tired to talk much at all.

She’d sat beside me on the porch, rested her head against my shoulder, and watched the pasture until the sky turned completely black. I’d barely moved for an hour as we listened to the crickets and cows.

There hadn’t been another kiss since the night by the fence. But there had been plenty of moments when I wanted to kiss her, but hadn’t.

Carson had kissed me first that night, kissed me like she’d wanted it every bit as badly as I had, and then fear had entered her expression so quickly afterward that I still thought about it.

Her midnight text two nights ago informing me she couldn’t stop thinking about doing it again had helped.

But there was something sitting between wanting me and allowing herself to have me, and I hadn’t figured out what it was yet…

I knew pieces of her story.

The accident.

The end of her rodeo career.

Losing James only months later.

I knew she hated being helped without asking for it. I knew the limp she tried so hard to conceal became more noticeable after long days. I knew there were moments when I touched her and something behind her eyes changed before she caught it.

And I knew better than to ask.

Carson reminded me of some of the old engines Dad used to make Jax and me work on when we were teenagers. If something didn’t move, forcing it usually meant breaking something expensive.

You gave it time.

Figured out where the resistance was coming from.

And waited until it was ready.

Jax would probably tell me comparing the woman I wanted to an engine was the reason I was still single. He wouldn’t be entirely wrong.

The deep rumble of a truck pulling into the lot dragged my attention away from the brake assembly in front of me. I looked toward the open bay doors before I could stop myself.

Jax caught it.

He was halfway beneath the hood of a Silverado in the bay beside mine, but somehow the bastard still saw everything I didn’t want him to.

“You know that’s getting pathetic, right?”

I reached for the socket I needed. “What’s getting pathetic?”

“Every time something pulls into the parking lot, you look up hoping it’s Carson.”

“I own an automotive shop. Vehicles pulling into the parking lot generally require my attention.”

“Uh-huh.” He drew the sound out just long enough to piss me off.

“Do you want me to remind Rosie you said her brakes could wait until after the festival?”

His head came up so fast I almost laughed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.”

Before Jax could interrogate me, the driver’s door outside opened and Hunter climbed out. He wore faded jeans, a dark T-shirt, and a ball cap pulled low enough that the brim shadowed most of his face. Even after all this time, he still did that when he was going somewhere he knew other people might be. The scars covering one side of his face had never bothered anyone in our family, but that didn’t mean Hunter had magically stopped noticing strangers looking at them.

“Got time for an oil change?” He came through the bay with his truck keys in his left hand.