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“I think I better stop digging myself too deep into this hole before I can’t get out of it. Safer just to fix your tire.”
Jules hummed in agreement. “Smart man.”
She retrieved a spare tire from the back of her truck, along with the necessary tools, while I got to work. When I removed my jacket and draped it over the side of her truck, Jules let out a low whistle of appreciation at the tattoos spanning my arms, from my wrists to my shoulders.
“How many hours did you have to sit for all that?” she asked.
I shrugged. “Had it done over several years. Some of it started when I was in the Marines. But most of it was filled in when I left the service and came to California.”
She smirked at me. “I totally took you for a Marine.”
I chuckled. “Was it the motorcycle or the tattoos that gave me away?”
“Stopping to help out and not be a creep about it.”
“Fair enough.” I glanced up at her from my position crouched beside her flat tire. “You didn’t seem too worried when I pulled up though.”
Jules reached into the back of her pickup and pulled out a heavy-duty oak baseball bat. The wood was dark and polished to a gleaming shine.
“There’s a special level of confidence that comes with knowing how to wield a Louisville slugger.”
“Can’t argue with that.”
It didn’t take long to swap out the tire and get Jules onto the road again. Wiping my hands on my jeans, I gathered the tools and the flat tire, stowing them in the back of her truck.
“You’re good to go,” I said.
“Can I buy you a cup of coffee or something?” Jules asked. “To thank you for your work.”
Normally, I would have shrugged it off. Changing a flat tire wasn’t that complicated. But Jules and I had hit it off. Then again, I still suspected she was younger than me. Should I accept her offer and keep this connection alive that we had together? Or was it better to go our separate ways?
I folded my hands in front of me, feet planted shoulder width apart – the traditional at-ease stance I had never been able to shake from my Marine days. Old habits died hard.
“There’s a sweet little ice cream parlor a few towns over. Before you hit Santa Monica. It’s a bit late in the day to make the trek now. But we could start fresh tomorrow. Would that work for you?”
A smile tugged at the corner of Jules’ mouth.
“That depends.”
“On what?”
She lifted her chin in the direction of my bike.
“Will we be riding your blue beauty?”
“Unless you want to risk another flat tire with your truck,” I countered.
“Oh no. Wouldn’t want to do that.”
I laughed and fished my phone from my pocket, holding it out to her.
“Go ahead and put your number into my contacts. I can call or text before I pick you up.”
Jules took my phone, thumbing at the keypad. When she handed it back, her name was above her phone number with a yellow sunflower beside it.
I gestured to her clothes. “You’ll want to wear something besides a sundress though. Too much skin would be flirting with the pavement right now.”
“No bikini and boots?”
