Page 8 of Enticing

Shit.

He’s cold because it’s November in Kroydon Hills, the sky looks like it’s going to open up any minute, and the weather man is calling for three inches of snow overnight. And he’s still trying to be a nice guy.

But really . . . do nice guys even exist?

“Why?” I ask, untrusting and wondering if I should have even opened my door.

No matter what Izzy might think, I don’t know this man.

I look around the parking lot and remind myself it’s going to be getting dark soon, but I’m in a parking lot with tons of other cars belonging to the employees of the Philadelphia Revolution. There are probably cameras everywhere too. No one is coming for us.

Get it together, Addie.

“Why what?” Leo questions. “Just let me look at it for you. It’ll only take a minute. Hell, you can even call roadside assistance while I’m looking. What’s it going to hurt?”

I turn back to Izzy, who’s hanging on our every word.

I refuse to raise my daughter to be scared of everything and everyone. I also refuse to raise her to be dependent on a man for anything, which means I need to suck it up right now.

Jesus, adulting blows.

Without any more over thinking, something I basically specialize in, I pop the hood and turn back to Izz. “Stay in the car, sweetie. Mommy’s going to get out for a minute, okay?”

She reaches for her iPad and smiles. “Okay. Can we have mac ‘n cheese for dinner?”

“Yeah, baby. Mac ‘n cheese sounds good. Now, you stay here.” I shut the door and turn directly into Leo’s chest. His big hands dwarf my shoulders, steadying me as I suck in a lungful of the most delicious scent. Sandalwood and cedar.

Of course, he even smells like a damn book boyfriend.

Leo

I’m not sure I’ve ever had anyone pissed at me for offering to help before, but that’s exactly what it seems is happening here. The look in this gorgeous woman’s eyes is colder than the fucking ice storm threatening to bury the town. I catch her glare before I drop my hands from her shoulders but block her path as I round the front of the SUV. Only once the hood is open and propped up, do I glance back at her. “So, you wanna tell me your name? I mean, I figure weshould be on a first-name basis if I’m going to look under your hood.”

Maybe not the classiest thing to say . . .

The look of shock on her pretty face is followed by a flush of embarrassment that crawls up her pale skin. Maybe she’s not as mean as she clearly wants me to think. Big brown eyes skitter hesitantly from me to the car nervously before settling back on me. “Adelaide, but everyone calls me Addie.”

I nod and tuck that little nugget away as a small win.

“Addie. . .” I try out the name.

She looks like an Addie—beautiful and smart with thick white-blonde hair falling in waves around her shoulders. Addie...

“Well,Addie... I’m Leo Sinclair. It’s nice to meet you.” I turn back to the car and try to assess the few things I can.

When I pull the dipstick out of the oil a second later, I hiss.

Shit, this isn’t good.

“What’s wrong?” Addie asks, clearly reading the situation.

I glance back at Izzy, who’s completely oblivious in the SUV, before locking eyes with her mom. “The stick is bone dry.”

“What does that mean?” she asks, confused.

“Listen, I don’t know a ton about cars, but I know they can’t run without oil, and you don’t have any oil in this one. Your engine probably just seized up.”

“That can’t be right. How would all the oil in my car vanish?” she argues as the icy-cold rain falls faster. “I just had an oil change last month.”

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