Page 3 of Objection to Love

“Well, luckily they do teach it in construction management.” His words had a hint of laughter in them.

She wrapped her arm around her waist, holding in her dignity. It was the one with the pepper spray. She pulled it behind her back. Couldn’t have him knowing about her one weapon against him. The element of surprise was all she had.

He stepped around her, motioning to the back of her car. “Mind if I…?”

She shuffled to the side, keeping a good two feet of space between them. “No, go ahead.”

With the crisp nod of someone who knew exactly what he was doing, the stranger opened her trunk and lifted a false bottom in her car’s floor to reveal the spare. He bent down to look at it more closely for a second before straightening. He was taller than her. Even with her three-inch heels, he had at least two inches on her. That was surprising.

“When’s the last time you had your tires checked?”

Em drew a blank. “Uh… last year, maybe? Why?”

He looked up at her. “Because it looks like your spare is flat.”

“What?” She looked past him into the trunk. “Is that even possible?”

“Unfortunately, yes. Do you want me to call you a tow?”

“No service. We’re in a dead spot.”

He pulled out his phone, doubting her, but after a moment, his mouth turned down, and he tucked it back into his pocket. “Let me give you a ride. You can call a tow when we get service.”

“Umm…” She looked back at the supposedly flat tire. Was it possible he was making it up? An elaborate ruse to get her locked inside the doors of his GMC?

“I’m a Boy Scout if that helps?”

She looked back at him, brows pulled down in confusion. “What?”

“And my mom still calls me ‘honey,’ so you can be sure I’m not going to kill you, or kidnap you, or anything else nefarious in nature. Plus, you’ve got that pepper spray to keep you safe.” He pointed down to her partially concealed hand.

Em eyed him. He was smiling and seemed mostly genuine.

She shouldn’t just trust him at his word. But she was tired, wet, and hungry. And she needed to review the Clayton case before bed.

She bit her lip, glancing back at her car. What other choice did she have?

“That would be great, actually. Thanks.”

“Awesome. Grab what you need, and let’s go.”

Em ran for the driver’s door and grabbed her purse. She tucked the pepper spray inside next to her car keys. Then she pulled her briefcase from the back seat. She locked the door as she climbed back out, then followed her possible savior/potential killer to his car.

After he opened the passenger door for her—which was surprisingly chivalrous since it was pouring rain, but also made her reach for the pepper spray in her bag again—he ran around to his side, jumped in, and turned the ignition on. He pulled off his hat and tossed it onto the seats behind them before turning to her. “You okay?”

The question caught her off guard.

“Uhhh—”

“It’s a pretty bad storm out there. You weren’t stuck long before I got here, were you?”

She blinked. Since when had someone worried abouthercapabilities? It was an odd feeling to be seen as… weak? In need of help? Granted, she had been. Well, was. But it still felt weird to have someone she didn’t even know express such concern.

He dipped his head, looking at the wrinkle between her brows. Before he had to repeat his question, she shook her head… Maybe a little too exuberantly. Water sprayed out from her hair like she was a wet dog. And the stranger in the seat next to her got more than a few drops.

“Sorry,” she apologized as he wiped a hand down his face.

“Don’t be.” He laughed. “Better your hair than your pepper spray.”

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