Page 30 of Respect

Phoebe let the threat roll off her. She’d worry about its veracity later.

“Lydia, don’t,” Carolanne Whoever-Hyphenate said. “Let’s just go.” She turned a halfhearted smile on Phoebe. “I apologize for the intrusion. We’ll go.”

The uberbitch was still staring at Phoebe like she couldn’t figure out what kind of creature would say such a thing to her. Her friend tugged on her arm, but she ignored it.

Phoebe stared back until finally the nicer of the two got through, and Mrs. Oilman turned to her friend and shook her hold away. “Fine. Just stop clinging. Let’s get out of here. I need to wash the stink off me.”

She spun on the heel of her polished boot and stalked down the aisle. Her friend followed. Phoebe followed them both, then stood with her arms crossed as they climbed into a black Land Rover (of course), turned around, and drove away.

Had she just completely fucked her whole life because she couldn’t suck up to one imperious rich bitch?

Time would tell, she supposed.

In the immediate future, however, there was work to be done. If she got caught in a whirlpool of worry, that work would go undone. Phoebe turned around, planning to go to the barn and grab fresh hay to fill the stall bins before she brought the animals in for the night.

She was almost at the barn when she heard the growl and grind of a truck rolling over her rutted gravel lane. Were they back? She couldn’t imagine Mrs. Oilman would be ready to apologize, so ... what? Had she thought up some more threats?

Actually, that truck sounded bigger than the Land Rover. Curious, Phoebe retraced her steps, watching the place where whoever was coming would top the last rise.

The first thing she saw was a light bar on a white roof. Yellow and red lights—not cops. A wrecker. A flatbed wrecker, and it was carrying her truck. A few seconds more, and she saw Duncan at the wheel.

Phoebe had borrowed Vin’s car and gone into town for a new phone the day after she’d brought Smoky home (yay for going ahead and getting insurance on her plan), and she and Duncan had texted back and forth several times each of the past few days. They’d talked about a lot of random things, they’d done some flirting that bordered on light sexting, and he’d kept her apprised about anything he’d learned regarding her truck. She knew he’d found a likely engine, but it needed some work. He had some big trip coming up, he’d be gone for a while, and he’d doubted that he’d be able to get it done before he left.

The last she’d heard, she’d be truck-less for maybe a month, despite the replacement engine he’d found. But here he and her truck were.

He was leaving on this big trip tomorrow. Had he both finished the repair and hauled her truck all the way down here? Or was he returning the empty husk?

Her arms crossed again, she strolled toward him as he drew the flatbed to a stop along the fence-line of the riding corral.

“Hey!” Duncan said as he opened the door and hopped down from the cab.

His smile was bright and wide, so Phoebe guessed he’d come with good news, but she needed that confirmed. “Hey. Are you giving up on me?”

“What?” He’d been coming in for a kiss, she thought, but her question pulled him up short. “No.” He tossed keys at her, and she caught them. “You want to start it up and drive it off the ramp, or you want me to?

“It’s fixed? Already?”

He reached her and slipped his arm around her waist, pulling her close. “Fixed, washed, and lemony fresh.” With a grand sweep of his hand, he added, “Your carriage, milady.”

Was this guy for real? She’d known him less than a week, but he’d been swooping in all around her, making bad things better. Like she was his very own rescue project.

Actually, that thought had thorns and burrs, so Phoebe kicked herself free of it.

Rising onto her toes, she flung her arms around his neck. “I need you to say something shitty to me right now.”

Again, she’d interrupted his obvious intent to kiss her. Instead, he frowned at her. His eyes were an intensely beautiful bright green.

“What? Why?”

“I want to see the flaws, pal. This whole Mr. Perfect thing has got to be an act. I need to see the grimy underside, right now.”

He laughed and pulled her closer. “Sorry. Washed the undercarriage, too.” Before she could react to that, he knocked her hat off her head and kissed her.

The way he kissed was most definitely not a flaw.

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~oOo~

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