Page 4 of Gifts

“What?” I ask, wondering what he’s smiling at.

His smile shrinks back into a smirk. “It’s fun hearing the word shit come out of a pretty little thing like you.”

I frown. That’s completely sexist, not to mention, he doesn’t know the half of it. There are days I can’t think straight unless every other word is fuck.

But I’m not about to let him in on that.

“Anyway,” I try for a new subject, “thank you for stopping. You saved my white blouse since I was about to tackle this on my own. I’d like to get home to my kids and kiss them goodnight.”

“Well then.” He finishes tightening the bolts and stands, brushing his hands together. “Glad I saw you standing in the ditch and decided to stop. It’s pothole season. This happens a lot.”

“Pothole season?”

His face becomes serious. “Yeah, potholes’re everywhere from the snow. Water settles and expands when it freezes, making the asphalt crack. They don’t get them fixed very fast out here in the country. There was one a ways back, I’m sure it’s what blew your friend’s tire. You need to watch out for them.”

“Oh.” I sort of don’t know what to say. Not about the potholes, but about this strange man telling me to be careful. He looks like he really means it, too, not just some idle warning he’d offer in passing. “I’ll keep an eye out.”

“Hey.” His serious face morphs into a frown. “You hit your head? You’ve got a knot on your temple.”

I lift my hand and try not to wince when I touch it. “It’ll be fine. I didn’t hit it too hard.”

He gestures toward Stan. “Does he know you hurt yourself?”

I lower my voice since Stan is walking our way. “Yes, but I’m okay.”

I’ve had enough drama for the night—I just want to get home to Knox and Saylor. At least I can let Stephie off the hook so she can get home early. That is, right after I chastise her for talking me into this debacle in the first place and make her promise to never do it again.

“I cancelled the roadside service.” Stan appears in front of us. Looking at the fresh tire the stranger just changed for him, he notes, “That was fast.”

“Yes,” I agree and look up to the man who saved the day and warned me about pothole season. “It was. Thank you, again.”

“Not a problem.” He nods to Stan before looking back to me and raises a brow that screams sarcasm. “Enjoy the rest of your Saturday, ma’am.”

Oh, he did not just ma’am me. The only people allowed to call me ma’am are in high school.

“It’s Keelie,” I remind him.

“Yes, ma’am,” he repeats with a smirk.

I open my mouth to refute him again, but for the first time since five o’clock this afternoon, I’m grateful when Stan opens his, even though he’s rude when doing so. “Can we go now?”

I look at my phone and see it’s almost eight. If we leave now I can spend a little time with the kids and get back to my life. It’ll be a long walk through hell before I let Stephie set me up again.

Looking back to my tire-changing hero, I move to the passenger door. “Thank you for stopping.”

“She’s got a bump on her head,” my knight announces.

I stop and see my hero glaring at Stan.

“She said she was fine,” Stan responds.

“A knot on the head isn’t fine.”

“I took something and don’t even have a headache. It’ll go away in no time. I’d really like to get home.” I try to convince everyone I’m okay. I’ll be more than okay when I get back to my kids.

“Make sure someone keeps an eye on you,” he demands and looks back to Stan with a frown before leaving.

I get into Stan’s car and watch the man who saved my day stride to his truck, his long legs getting him there quickly and efficiently. I try not to stare even though it’s hard since his old jeans fit him perfectly—snug through the ass and thighs, loose over his work boots. Definitely not khakis with an ill-fitting, ugly sweater vest.

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