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“You were smiling.” Rory crossed her arms over her chest and cocked a brow. “Yet you stopped when you saw me. Way to offend a customer, Samuel Miller.”
“That’s not my name.”
Straightening, he dragged the cloth down the fender. Focusing on the task took all his attention. He wanted to stare at her. She’d done something different to her hair. Teased it higher, pulled the black waves back with jeweled clips behind her ears.
Like magic, the steel beam inside his jeans shot up to regulation height. At least this time he didn’t beg her to follow him home. But he did have a trusty back room…
“What do you mean that’s not your name?”
“My name’s Samson.” He shrugged and flipped over the rag. “Mom went Biblical.”
“So she’s where you got the Bible.”
“It’s sure as hell not mine.” He swung a glance upward and said a quick mental apology while she stifled a laugh.
“Well, excuse me then, Samson. Online you were listed as Samuel Miller.”
“Yeah. Helps avoid the telemarketers.”
It wasn’t true. The phone book people had just made a simple clerical error, one he hadn’t bothered getting fixed. But she smiled and he sent up another prayer of thanks. He was managing to talk to her without getting all red-faced and flustered.
“Does it also help you avoid women wanting to get their car fixed?”
“I gave you my card.”
“You did. Without your home number.”
“So you looked me up,” he said, hoping his pleasure at that fact didn’t show in his voice.
He’d fallen out of practice at anything even resembling flirting. Not that he’d call this flirting per se. More of a flirtatious conversation. Hard for it to be anything but when Rory looked so damn teeth-achingly gorgeous and had such a sparkle in her eyes.
He felt like a guy who’d been on a diet for years when finally confronted by the all-you-can-eat buffet. There wasn’t one particular food—or part of her—he wanted to sample first. He’d prefer to swallow her whole.
Not that he intended to do anything about that. Yesterday’s colossal screwup had proven he wasn’t ready to hop back on the saddle or in the sack just yet. But he couldn’t help angling just a little closer to smell the sweet, toasted marshmallow scent of her hair.
“Yes. I considered calling you at home. Then I decided you hadn’t given me your number so you must not want me to call you there.”
“Didn’t stop me,” he said, moving around to buff the other side of the car.
She whisked her fingertips over the hood and let out a sigh. “Nice ride,” she said, conveniently letting the subject of the phone call drop.
In all likelihood, she felt sorry for him after reading the letters. Pity usually wasn’t the stuff eager phone calls were made of. Or else she’d gotten bored while reading them. Other people’s trauma couldn’t be that interesting.
He should let it go. She didn’t have to respond to them. He’d done what he felt he needed to for reasons he didn’t understand so now he had to relax and stop wondering what she thought.
“Did you read them?” he blurted, scrubbing a hand over his head.
Rory’s gaze snapped up from her perusal of the car. “Just one.”
That was it? She wasn’t going to say anything else? What had happened to women chattering a guy’s ear off? Maybe things had changed since he’d been an active member of the dating scene.
Well, too bad. She wouldn’t dissuade him with silence.
“And?”
She reached up to toy with one of her hair clips. “I didn’t realize you’d lost a baby.”
Shit, that first letter had gotten down to the nuts and bolts. He hadn’t really remembered all the details. “Two babies actually.” His voice didn’t waver. “Both right around five months.”
