Page 5 of Single Mom's Mountain Men
My eyes snap away from hers to the two little girls on her train. One of them, the older one, has dark hair and eyes, and watches me steadily with a fathomless gaze. The younger one is the spitting image of her mother. She clutches a bag of snacks in one hand and holds onto her mother’s jeans in the other.
And as they stare at me, I see the blatant fear in her eyes.
It seems Wes isn’t the only one who can scare the townspeople.
I get it. I’m a big guy, bigger even than either of mybrothers, at six foot six and two hundred and thirty pounds. That’s usually enough to make most people at least a little apprehensive.
And then there's also the fact that you're standing there like a mute staring at their mother like you want to rip her clothes off, you neanderthal.
Damn. Very smooth, Charlie. Very smooth.
I blink and take a step back. I should probably say something right now, to put her daughters at ease. Wait, didn't she just apologize? I'm not sure why she apologized, so perhaps I should tell her that it's alright and she doesn't need to. Maybe she thought she bumped into me, but I was the one who wasn't watching where I was going.
But then all that comes out of my mouth is the word, “Fine.”
And even as her eyes widen, I can tell I said it entirely wrong. It’s in the wrong cadence, with too much force, and my voice is gravelly from lack of use, so I simply sound like a grouchy old man, mad at her for something that in reality was entirely my own fault.
Great.
The woman doesn’t say anything else. She presses her lips together in a tight, polite smile and brushes past me. Her daughters sidle past too, glancing nervously upwards as they do so. Once they’re out the door they head across the bare, concrete forecourt to the beat-up old sedan and get in.
I should say something, but I can’t think of what to say. My mind is blank but for the picture of those tired yet still sparkling blue eyes.
Her eyes and those damn freckles have completely discombobulated me, and all I can do is stand there and watch them drive away.
Damn. I should have at least told her to see a mechanic.
But it’s too late now, she’s already gone, so I simply sigh, regretting how I’d failed to handle the situation, and make my way up the center aisle to the checkout desk.
“Hey Charlie,” the attendant, Jamie, greets me.
“Hey, Jamie. I need eighty on pump number 2.”
She nods and turns to her computer, clicking it in. “I just sent that lady and her kids your way.”
I frown. “You did?”
“Yeah. She was looking for somewhere cheap and affordable to rent. Says she’s been driving quite a bit. And she looks exhausted. She nearly passed out when she climbed out of her car.”
My frown deepens and I instantly turn back to the road, seeing her headlights disappearing. Damn it. I should definitely have talked to her. She shouldn’t be driving at all if she’s that tired, let alone in that old death trap. Maybe I could have given her a ride.
“Thanks for the info,” I say, and she nods before turning back to her magazine. I step outside and fill up my gas tank as quickly as I can. Then, I get back into my truck.
But instead of continuing down the highway towards Gasten, I turn around and head right back up the mountain, gaining glimpses of the mystery woman’s sedan ahead of me from time to time as the road straightens out for a moment, or after clearing a dip in the road’s contour.
I step on the gas, hoping I’m not too late. Worry ignites my mind. Wes aside, there haven’t been all that many accidents here. Maybe a couple of college students caught by the local cops being stupid whilst under the influence. But there usually isn’t enough traffic to warrant a lot of casualties.
Hopefully, that luck persists.
Still, I remain tense and only breathe a sigh of relief when I round a bend and the stranger’s car comes into sight again.
Thank God.
I think about pulling her over, but even if I could, I wouldn’t know what to say at that point. How will I tell her not to drive her vehicle without being creepy? Especially considering I ogled her in that store like an asshole. It probably seemed like I was giving her a hard time, while she was clearly fatigued and ready to be on the road.
I need to brush up on my people skills.
I'm not a people person and it's never bothered me until right this moment. Maybe I need to get some tips from Wes. He's a regular ladies’ man, known by all (and perhaps especially by himself) as being more than capable of charming even the coolest headed and most sensible of women out of their panties.
