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She was like a guardian angel.
A guardian angel who had been poured into some dangerously tight Levi’s and was now bent over his trunk, rummaging around to get the spare out. When she emerg
ed triumphant, her cheeks were rosy from the dig and the cool night air. Her breath puffed out in a white cloud when she laughed.
“For a new car, you’ve sure managed to fit a lot of crap in the trunk already.”
“I like to be prepared. Six weeks is a long time to go without something.” He took the jack from her as she fought with the tire. When he realized she intended to wrestle it out herself, he put the jack on the ground and came to her aid, placing one hand on her back so she wouldn’t be surprised by his sudden arrival.
The heat of her skin was sensational. He hadn’t realized how cold his fingers were until he touched her. She, too, was taken aback by the chill of his hand, because the moment he grazed the exposed section of flesh above the waistband of her jeans, she jumped.
“Sorry. Colder than I thought, I guess.”
In her brief alarm she had dropped the tire and stood back from him, looking ruffled. “It’s okay.”
He pulled out the tire for her, kicking himself for letting her try it on her own. It wasn’t that he thought she was incapable—the woman clearly knew her way around a car—but it wasn’t too chivalrous of him to make her carry a fucking tire all by herself.
He could hear Jane, his eldest sister, saying, “What kind of gentleman does something like that, Alex?” His sisters often functioned as the angels on his shoulder, reminding him of how a woman ought to be treated.
His notions might be on the old-fashioned side, but he liked to believe even the most forward-thinking woman would want to be treated like a lady.
Alex leaned the tire against the car and recovered the jack he’d set down earlier. Alice shucked off her lightweight jacket and draped it over the edge of the trunk before locating the tire iron. She set to work loosening the nuts that held on the hubcap. When she let out a small grunt of exertion, he piped in, “Can I help?”
She gave him an amused look through the curtain of her white-blonde bangs. “I’ve got it. But thanks.”
Alex warred with himself. He was pretty sure he should insist on taking over the physical labor, but she was handling things okay so far, and he honestly didn’t know what to do. He paced nervously, not used to being unable to help when all his instincts told him he should.
For the next ten minutes he felt altogether useless, hanging back as Alice removed the tire and got the spare affixed. He dutifully provided assistance whenever she needed an extra set of hands or a change of tools, but otherwise his denim-clad savior was a one-woman show. When she was finished, there was a sheen of sweat on her chest, drawing his gaze down to her cleavage. She wiped her brow and attempted to get the grease off her hands by rubbing the back of her pants.
Alice wasn’t the skinny, plastic-type girl he was used to meeting in Florida. She had more curves than a Swiss highway, and between her ample bosom and the fine fullness of her butt in those jeans, Alex wasn’t sure where he could rest his gaze without leering.
“That doughnut will hold you for a bit, but you’re going to want to take it in and get a proper replacement. I can recommend a good garage in town where they won’t look at a Porsche like it’s a spaceship. They’ll be fair in the pricing too.”
“Thanks.”
Alice collected her jacket and replaced the tools in the trunk. Finally seeing a place he might be of use, Alex grabbed the busted tire and got it stowed.
“You live around here?” He wasn’t ready to see her vanish yet and was hoping he might be able to convince her to spend a little more time with him. Perhaps someplace nicer than the side of the highway.
“Yeah. There’s a small suburb about four miles down the road. We have a place there.”
We. “You and your husband?”
Alice gave a half-smile and shook her head. “No. No husband.”
Relief hit him with a whoosh. He didn’t know her, they’d only met once before, yet he was positive he would have been crushed to discover she was off the market. As it was he would be calling his friend Tucker Lloyd—the Felons’ ace pitcher—later that night for some help with Alice insight. Tucker was engaged to Emmy Kasper, and Emmy was friends with Alice. Alex would need all the intel he could get if he had a shot in hell with a girl who looked like Alice.
And it wasn’t only her appearance. She’d changed his tire like it was the easiest damn thing in the world. Impressive didn’t begin to cover it.
Surely Emmy would be able to get him an in.
Alice shifted nervously and glanced at her car, which made Alex realize with some horror he’d been staring at her.
Think fast, you idiot.
“Know anywhere good to eat? I drove in from Atlanta. I was planning to eat at the hotel when I checked in, but…you know, room service isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”
“Yeah, I have that problem all the time.” She snorted. She gave him a once-over, gnawing thoughtfully on her lower lip. He wouldn’t mind being allowed to nibble on it himself. “It’s nothing fancy, but we’re having pizza for dinner. I mean…if you don’t mind slumming it, you’re welcome to come.”
