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Now Blair is sitting in my passenger seat, making me question the one rule I’ve managed to follow since Courtney left.

I don’t do relationships.

I don’t let women close enough to become part of Aspen’s life, only for her to lose them too. She’s already had one woman walk away from her. I refuse to be responsible for bringing another one in who might do the same.

It’s a good rule.

A necessary one.

And Blair is exactly the kind of woman who makes it feel slightly less solid.

Which is why offering her a lift was a bad decision from the beginning.

She smells like jasmine and something deeper beneath it. Something warm that lingers inside the truck whenever she moves.

At The Breakwater, she seemed confident. She handled a room full of strangers as though she’d been doing it forever. Now, her leg is bouncing beside me, and she keeps turning her phone over in her hands.

She must be worried about the car.

“Shit,” Blair mutters beneath her breath.

I glance toward her. “Everything okay?”

“Oh, it’s fine,” she replies, waving one hand in front of her face. Her nose scrunches slightly. “I just have somewhere to be Monday morning.”

For a second, I consider asking where.

I don’t.

It’s none of my business.

“What time?” I ask instead.

Why the fuck do you care?

Blair looks over at me. “Around seven-thirty.”

I nod, already rearranging the jobs waiting at the shop in my head.

“I can move a few things around,” I tell her. “I’ll drop the car off tomorrow afternoon.”

Her eyebrows lift. “Tomorrow?”

“Yeah.”

“But tomorrow is Sunday,” she points out. “I thought the shop was closed.”

“It is,” I reply.

Blair waits for me to explain further.

I don’t.

“So, how are you going to—”

“I’ll sort it,” I interrupt. “You’ll have your car before Monday.”

There are already other jobs ahead of hers. Paying customers who booked their appointments before a woman with hazel eyes and a dying Kombi appeared out of nowhere.