Page 9 of Curvy Girl and the Single Dad Cowboy

Charlotte turns in her seat to face me. "Vincent, I understand your concern. Really, I do. But I didn't take this job on a whim. I'm committed to being here for Lily for as long as you'll have me. Yes, I needed a change of scenery, but that doesn't mean I'm treating this job—or your daughter—as some kind of vacation distraction."

The sincerity in her voice is hard to dismiss, but I've been burned before—we all have.

"Words are easy."

"Actions matter more," she agrees. "So let me prove it to you. Day by day."

I glance over at her, struck by the determination in her eyes. There's something about Charlotte Wilson that doesn't quite fit the mold I tried to put her in. She's not what I expected.

We're approaching the outskirts of town now, the familiar buildings coming into view: Madeline's Diner, the general store, Pete's Garage on the corner.

"We'll get your car situation sorted first," I say, turning into the garage's parking lot. "Then you can pick up whatever supplies you need at the general store."

"Thank you," she says, and I notice she's twisting her hands in her lap nervously.

"Something wrong?"

She bites her lip. "I'm just hoping it's not too expensive. I don't have a lot of spare cash at the moment.”

Her admission catches me off guard. I hadn't considered the financial burden this breakdown might place on her—starting a new job, relocating across the country.

"It's on the house," I say before I can overthink it. "Don't worry about it."

Charlotte blinks at me, confusion replacing concern. "What do you mean?"

"Your car breaking down on your way to work for me makes it my problem." I put the truck in park and turn to face her. "You have nothing to worry about."

"That's very generous, but I can't accept that. I don't take handouts."

There's a pride in her voice that I recognize—it's the same stubborn independence I see in the mirror every morning. Somehow, that makes me respect her more.

"It's not a handout," I tell her. "Consider it part of the job. I need you to take Lily to activities and run errands. Can't have you stranded."

She studies me for a long moment, like she's trying to read something written in fine print on my face. "You're not what I expected, Vincent Covington."

I raise an eyebrow. "Is that good or bad?"

A small smile touches her lips. "I haven't decided yet."

Pete emerges from the garage bay as we approach, wiping his hands on a rag that probably makes them dirtier rather than cleaner. He's been fixing vehicles in this town since before I wasborn, his gray hair always hidden under the same oil-stained cap.

"Vincent Covington," he calls out. "Jackson said you'd be bringing in the stranded city girl."

I feel Charlotte stiffen beside me and find myself instinctively stepping slightly in front of her, as if to shield her from Pete's bluntness.

"Pete, this is Charlotte Wilson. She's Lily's new nanny."

Pete's eyebrows shoot up, and he gives Charlotte a once-over that makes my jaw clench for reasons I'd rather not overthink.

He extends his hand to Charlotte. "Pete Larson, ma'am. Best mechanic in two counties."

To her credit, Charlotte doesn't hesitate to shake his greasy hand. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Larson. I appreciate you towing my car in on such short notice."

"Call me Pete, everyone does. And it's no trouble. Any friend of the Covingtons is a friend of mine." He looks at me. "Your brother told me you thought it was the starter. You were right. Got a rebuilt one that will work just fine; have her running by tomorrow afternoon. Everything that was inside is in the storeroom.”

"How much?" Charlotte asks before I can speak.

Pete glances between us, "Well now, parts and labor..."

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