Page 9 of Wake Me Up
“Yeah, and Papa isn’t answering his phone either,” I sigh, ending the call when the voicemail picks up. “Dammit. Guess I’ll have to call the towing company after all.”
I pull up the Google app and type intowing companies nearbyand look at their ratings. I’m just about to hit the Call button when a dark gray truck pulls up and parks right behind my car. Vehicles pass by us, but luckily, it’s not a super-busy street.
Cane stands, and we both stare at the truck, but the window tint is too dark to see inside. When both doors open, I don’t even have to look at Cane to know his mouth is hanging open. Mine would be, too, if I wasn’t so focused on keeping it closed to not look pathetic.
“No freaking way,” he whispers, staring at the two men walking toward us. “No. Freaking. Way. Mom, no one at school is going to believe this.”
I try not to gawk, but it’s no easy task. And the closer that Logan Sterns and Tripp Talmage get … the harder it is to remain cool. I’ve lived in Portland, Maine, my entire life, and the only Bay Shark I’ve seen outside the arena is Smith Sawyer when he comes to the bakery weekly for his doughnuts. Yet here I am, seeing the same guy who told my son he was a good player and made his entire life the other day.
I may be a widow who is missing her husband. And, yes, I’m still—and I always will be—faithful to my husband even though he’s gone, but none of that stops my heart from racing at the sight of these two incredibly good-looking men coming to our rescue.
Heat floods my cheeks, and I swallow sharply, trying to force my heart to calm the hell down.
It doesn’t work, especially not when Logan flashes me a dimpled smirk and Tripp looks all broody and stuffs his hands in his pockets.
“So, Trippy, you likey what you see or what?” Logan mutters to me, passing me the wrench.
When I go to grab it from him, he holds on to it, giving me an annoying-as-fuck look before wiggling his eyebrows.
“Oh, yeah, I saw you looking at her. It’s all good, man. She’s hot. And the way you were staring … you want some cookies with that MILF.” He finally releases the wrench, cackling at his own joke. “Get it? MILF and cookies.”
“You’re not right,” I utter before getting back to work on the tire. I’m thankful as hell that Freya isn’t standing beside us, listening to Logan’s dumb ass.
The same thing has run through my head for the past fifteen or so minutes.What are the fucking chances?I’ve thought about this woman and her beautiful face multiple times since last week. And, yeah, I know I’m going to hell for that because she’s married. But married women can be hot, too, and it’s hard not to take notice. Besides, I feel like it would make me a bigger piece of shit for not noticing a woman’s beauty simplybecauseshe’s married. So, really, I’m being a good guy.
I assumed Cash was her oldest kid, but today, she’s got a boy with her who looks even older than him. He was excited to talk to me and Logan, but she sent him to the car and said to wait with his sister until the tire was changed. I didn’t think he was going to listen—until she gave him thisscary momlook, and suddenly, he moped away.
I tighten the tire once more before standing. And as Logan and I brush our hands off, she walks closer, looking back and forth at both of us.
“Thank you so much for doing this. I owe you. Seriously.”
I’m already a dude who doesn’t say much. Put this woman in front of me, and I just stand here like a fucking weirdo, smiling awkwardly, I’m sure, because it’s not like I practice it enough.
“Nah, it was nothing,” Logan says easily with a grin. “It had been a while since I changed a tire. Good to know I still remember how.”
My head snaps to his, and I smirk. “You barely did anything,” I say, raising a brow at him.
“I did half, for sure,” he tosses back, unfazed. “My skills were just a little … rusty. That’s all.”
“Yeah, okay,” I mutter, smirking and shaking my head.
When my gaze lifts, I’m met with Freya’s soft honey-brown eyes. She doesn’t look directly at me long before her son walks beside her again. It’snot a super-busy road, but enough so that she told her daughter, who looks like she’s six or seven, to stay in the car. I only caught a glimpse of her, but she looks just like her mom. The same brown eyes and dark blonde hair that the sun has lightened in some strands.
“Do you guys think …” The kid stops, looking nervous. “Do you think I could get a picture with you?” He glances at me. “Cash got to meet you and Ryder Cambridge at the clinic, but this is different. You just changed my mom’s tire.”
“Why not?” I say, shrugging.
“Get on over here,” Logan chimes, holding his arm out.
The kid quickly passes the phone off to his mom and stands between us. She lifts the phone up, a huge smile on her face as she snaps the picture. A few seconds later, she holds it out for him.
“Thanks again,” she says appreciatively. “You saved me from having to wait for a tow truck.” She glances down at her watch. “We would have been late to get Cash. Now, we’ll be a few minutes early.”
“Practice tonight?” I say, guessing that that’s got to be where her son is.
He probably wouldn’t have it any other way either. I gathered that much just from meeting him at the clinic.
“Yep. It was actually an optional one, but he’s … well, he’s fierce, I guess you could say.” She laughs, putting her hands on her hips. “He’ll be bummed that he missed you guys though, won’t he, bud?” she asks her oldest son, and he nods.
