He taps the ‘Beckett Auto Body’ logo on his chest. “My job. Looks like you’re having some car trouble.”

Of course. Of all the mechanics in Broken Arrow, I get the biker.

“Well, thanks for coming so quickly,” I say, trying to gather my wits. “I don’t know what happened. She was running fine last night.”

“Let’s see what we’re dealing with.” He pops the hood and assesses the damage, his brow furrowing. “Hate to break it to you, but your alternator is toast. I’ll have to tow her in. You should come with. I’ll take a closer look so I can tell you more.”

I harrumph and climb into the tow truck’s door he’s holding open for me. The feel of his eyes on my legs making me warm all over. He busies himself hooking my car to the truck and off we go.

Once at the garage, I’m tapping my foot, arms crossed over my chest, trying my damndest not to ogle at the way Ryder’s forearm muscles contract under his tanned skin while he rummages under the hood of my car.

“How long will that take? And how much?” I’m a librarian, not a goddamn millionaire.

“Tell you what, since it’s you, parts and labor are on the house.” He grins at my shocked protest, wiping his big, calloused hands with an oil-stained rag. “Perks of owning the shop, sweetheart. I can pull a few strings.” He winks.

Seriously? Mister tall, dark and sexy-as-fuck owns an auto shop? Pinch me, I must be dreaming. Or in one of my romance novels.

“That’s very generous of you,” I say slowly. “But completely unnecessary. I’m happy to pay like any other customer.”

His smile just widens. “Sorry, boss-man’s orders. Gotta take care of our most beautiful client.”

His grin is fucking dazzling.

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, I bet you say that to all the damsels in distress.”

“Nah, just you,” he relies in a low, seductive voice.

This man is unbelievable. Irritatingly charming, but annoying as hell. “Look, Ryder, I appreciate you rushing to my rescue, but I can handle it from here. Just tell me where to pick up my car later.”

“Now what kind of knight would I be if I left a lady stranded? Nope, you’re borrowing one of my rides for the day. No arguments.”

Before I can protest, he’s gesturing to the sleek black Camaro parked next to his truck. “She’s all yours. We’ll trade back when yours is done.”

“Absolutely not. I can’t drive that. I’d probably wrap it around a tree.”

“Come on, doll, where’s your sense of adventure? Live a little.” His blue eyes gleam with mischief. “Promise I won’t even make you sign a waiver.”

“Gee, how magnanimous of you.” I hesitate, but the clock is ticking. I need to get to work. “You’re not going to take no for an answer, are you?”

“‘Fraid not, sweetheart. I’m very persistent when I see something I want.”

The heat in his gaze makes it clear I’m the something. Bastard. Why does he have to be so goddamn tempting?

“Fine,” I huff, marching over to the Camaro. “But only because I’m in a bind. This doesn’t mean anything.”

“‘Course not.” But his smirk says otherwise as he hands me the keys, our fingers brushing. And that damn zap of electricity passing between us again. “I’ll be seeing you real soon, Guinevere.”

“Okay, Lancelot.” And with that, I practically run out of there, making a mental note to avoid Beckett Auto at all costs from now on.

The last thing I need is to get tangled with some sweet-talking womanizer. Even if he makes me feel all tingly and shit.

Four

Chapter 4

RYDER

I watch Zara peel out of the driveway in my Camaro, a stupid grin plastered on my face. Damn, my girl looks good behind the wheel of a muscle car. She might play at being all prim and proper, but I can tell there’s a speed demon lurking under that pencil skirt.