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“That beater was on its last legs three breakdowns ago. I think it might be time to get a new one. I can make a couple calls and find you something for your budget,” Link said, the sound of metal clanking against metal in the background.
Just towing it isn’t in my budget.“I’d rather you work your magic and fix it.”
“Okay. I’ll be over to pick it up in a bit,” Link said.
“Thanks so much.” She ended the call and slid the phone into her back pocket.
She turned around and pushed the door closed. It took more effort than it should have. Her gaze swept over the banged-up, rusted car. Zoey deserved better. More than Jasmine could give her. More than me.
A twinge of pain tightened her chest. She closed her eyes and imagined Zoey’s smiling, laughing face. She painted a picture in her mind of her little girl with a room all of her own, and a car that was safe and always worked. A full fridge, and dinner on the back deck with the clap of the ocean waves in the distance. She’d have a mother who loved her, but she wouldn’t be alone. She’d have her father there too. Atlas.
Nerves skittered up her spine. Her eyes snapped open, ending the fantasy. When Zoey came home, would he take one look at her and know? Would he try and keep Zoey from her?
The sound of a car door shutting jarred her out of her head.
“Jasmine?” Atlas called.
Fuck my life. Couldn’t he have come back after she was showered and looked presentable? When she looked more like a great mother figure? Not covered in sweat and plaster?
She took a deep breath, summoning her courage, and turned to face him. “Hey.”
His gaze slid over her body. His eyebrows bunched together as if he was trying to figure her out. You and me both, buddy.
He lifted a bouquet of yellow sunflowers towards her. “Uh, these are for you.”
She stared at the flowers, frozen. No one had ever bought her flowers before. He really must have no idea who she was if he thought she needed wooing. The reminder brought a sense of relief, but also a pang of shame. There wasn’t much need for flowers when you were having a quick fuck to numb the deepest pain in a supply closet or a bar bathroom.
“You don’t have to take them. I just saw them and thought of you.” Atlas winced and dropped his hand to his side.
Damn that was corny, but oddly enough, it stirred something in her. A lone butterfly flipped and tumbled in her belly. She’d been staring at him like a deer in headlights. “Oh, no. I mean, they are beautiful. I’ve just never . . . had anyone get me flowers before.”
He blinked as if in disbelief and handed her the bouquet. Just like the ones she’d looked at earlier today at the farmer’s market.
He adjusted the paper bag in his other arm. “I got some supplies. I thought maybe I could show you more of what I’m made of in the kitchen.”
She swallowed, her mouth going dry. Zoey would be home soon. “That really isn’t necessary.”
He shook his head. “You challenged me yesterday, and I still have yet to prove what I’m capable of.”
“But you did cook last night.”
He smirked. “Technically, I boiled pasta. You already had the sauce done. I promise my culinary skills are beyond boiling pre-made spaghetti.”
Zoey’s grey eyes flashed in her mind—the mirror image of the man who stood in front of her. He was going to find out one way or the other. Might as well see how he was with her.
“I—”
“Hey, you were the one who doubted my abilities. Give me a chance to prove you wrong.” Atlas’s voice, mixed with his pleading look, stoked a different kind of challenge inside her.
Her eyes flicked to his mouth—so full. How soft would those lips be against hers? He’d never actually kissed her before. They’d been in too much of a rush. Would he take his time if they tried again?
She blinked twice. No. They couldn’t. Zoey needed her father in her life and Jasmine wasn’t going to ruin that for her. She had to get to know Atlas as a person, not in the biblical sense.
“Okay, dinner sounds great. I’m going to go put these in water and then shower. Help yourself to anything in the kitchen.” Jasmine spun around and walked into the inn, escaping the building attraction between them—running away like she’d done so many times in the past. Until Zoey.
She grabbed a glass quart jar from the cupboard and filled it with water before unwrapping the flowers and setting them inside. Jasmine couldn’t hold back the smile as she looked at the bright sunflowers. They were beautiful.
Her phone chirped, the security system alerting her that the front door had opened. She left the kitchen, passing Atlas with a nod before jogging up the stairs to her room. She shut the door and slipped off her shirt, throwing it into the hamper.
