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“You lost, city boy?” I call out, nodding towards his outfit with a chin lift. I have to use my hand to block the rays from the sun so I can take the newcomer in.
Perfectly pressed navy slacks that hug his thighs are held together by a belt that looks like it could cost more than my entire outfit. He glides a hand down his pale gray tie and smiles at me. The whites of his teeth blind me momentarily as I continue to take him in.
I never thought primed and pressed was my type, but this guy sure does it for me.
“Not lost, just new to the area,” he says as he gestures to my flat tire and saunters my way. “Do you need any help?”
“Well, unless you have the exact tire I need in the bed of your truck, I’m afraid you can’t be of any help.”
“Do you have someone on the way?” he asks, looking down the long, deserted road.
“Nah. My family has a business way down the road, so I was kinda hoping one of them would eventually pass by.”
“You can’t call anyone?”
I hold up my dead phone and shrug. Later on, I’ll think about how fucking dangerous this entire situation is. Right now, I need solutions.
“I have a gun in my waistband and I can kill a man in .8 seconds, so I wouldn’t try any sneaky shit,” I deadpan.
His eyes widen and he holds both of his hands up in surrender. A laugh bubbles up my chest at the fear in his eyes.
“I promise I just pulled over to offer some assistance. I’m actually kind of the opposite of dangerous– I help people that are in danger.”
He pulls his wallet out of his back pocket and hands me his card. I read it over and then laugh.
“A lawyer, huh? That explains the get up,” I chuckle, pointing the card towards his outfit and waving it up and down.
“Gregory Morgan, but you can call me Reggie.”
“Reggie,” I test the nickname out on my tongue and reach my hand out to shake his.
“Nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you too. I’m Lilah Neil.”
After talking to him the last few minutes, I can sense a sort of feminine quality to his voice and wonder if he’s gay. I’m not one to pass judgment or assume things, but the man’s creases in his slacks are straighter than my icing lines, which are pretty fucking perfect if I say so myself.
“I was on my way to meet my husband for lunch, but can I drop you off somewhere?”
Bingo. I fucking knew it.
I chuckle lightly to myself. “No thanks, but if it’s ok with you, I’d like to borrow your phone.”
Just as Reggie holds his phone out for me to grab, a loud rumble from the tailpipes of a bike echoes behind me.
It just has to be him.
“Everything alright?” Reggie asks, obviously seeing my eyeroll.
“Just peachy,” I laugh as Ringer’s bike comes to a stop next to me.
“Princess,” Ringer drawls as soon as he shuts the engine of his bike off. “What's going on?”
“Well, based on the rim that’s currently touching the road, I’d say I have a flat tire,” I say sarcastically as Ringer drops his kickstand and kicks his leg over the bike.
He shoots an accusatory glance my way and then his eyes land on Reggie, who stands a few paces behind me.
“Who’s your friend,” Ringer nods toward Reggie.
