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“Laney,” he whispered, his dark eyes holding mine in the kind of snare you’d have to be slick as a beaver to slip out of.
I opened my mouth to say something—though I wasn’t quite sure what—when a smooth-as-butter voice cut through my foggy brain.
“Well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in.”
I yanked free from Everett—all thoughts of whatever that was between us flew right out the window—and turned to his daddy with a wide smile. “Hey, Mr. Wilson.”
He balked. “Mr. Wilson? Who you callin’ Mr. Wilson? Come give me a hug, darlin’. It’s good to see you.”
I moved toward him as he came out of the shop and stepped into his open arms. Like his son, he smelled like a mechanic, but also smelled a little bit like home too. “Good to see you, Judd.”
“Who’s your friend?” he asked over my shoulder before releasing me.
I turned to Paisley as she rounded the truck with her hand outstretched. “This is Paisley, my manager and best friend.”
Just like Everett had before him, Judd held up his blackened hand to show her he didn’t wanna get her dirty. Not that he cared about my white shirt, mind you. I looked down at it inconspicuously, thankfully finding no noticeable smudges of grease. But for all I knew, there’d be black handprints on my back, dang it.
“Nice to meet you, Paisley. I’m Judd Wilson.”
“It’s a pleasure, sir. We’re sure grateful your son happened to be on the road when we swerved off. He’s our hero.”
“Don’t let him hear you talkin’ like that,” Judd said with a wink as he looked over at Everett where he was unhooking my car. “He’s likely to get a bigger head than he’s already got.”
“I can hear you,” Everett called without turning.
“Oh, great. Now you’ve done it,” Judd teased. “So, what happened here?”
I filled him in, ignoring his laughter and the quiet chuckles coming from the dreamboat behind me.
“You ladies wanna come inside?” Judd asked. “I don’t have more than a vending machine in the waiting room, but the drinks are cold, the couches are worn to comfort, and you’re welcome to stay as long as you like.”
I grinned. “Thank you, but we should get to Momma’s before she sends out the search party.”
“Well, hang on now,” he said, pointing at my feet, “you can’t walk there in those glitzy boots. Reckon your dogs would bark all the way home. Have Everett give you a ride.”
Everett sighed as he hopped down from the rig. “Dad, I gotta get the car unloaded.”
“Boy—”
I held up a hand. “No, it’s fine. I’ll call my sister.”
“You sure?” Judd asked.
“Yes, but thanks.”
“Alright, then.” Judd’s lips pulled into an O as he looked up at my pink Mercedes. He let out a low whistle, then gave me a wide smile. “You know what this reminds me of?”
“What?”
“Them plastic Barbie cars you used to drive all over my front porch with Everett’s GI Joes sittin’ shotgun. Y’all remember that?”
Against my better judgment, I looked over at Everett. He let out a short laugh, but his eyes darkened before he turned away. “That was a long time ago, Dad.”
“Sure was,” Judd agreed. When his son was gone, he turned to us with a wide grin that looked just as comforting to me as it had when I was nothing more than that little girl with her Barbies. “Well, I’m gonna get back to what I was doin’. See you both on Friday night?”
“Yes, sir,” I responded.
“Good.”
