Page 15 of The Pucker and the Princess
Meeting her eyes, I arch an eyebrow. “Do you know how to skate?”
Her plump lips purse together and hitch to the side. “Fine. Point taken. We all have different interests and skill sets. Still, I’d argue that being able to change a tire and jump a car are basic life skills on par with cooking and doing laundry.” She shrugs. “Never been stranded on the side of the road and needed to ice skate my way out.”
That makes me laugh. “Point to you.”
Grinning, she gathers some tools and the new battery, laying everything out in easy reach before launching into an explanation of what we’re doing. She’s patient and makes the whole process easy to understand.
Once the old battery is out, she coaches me through seating the new one, making sure everything’s connected properly and fastening all the parts and pieces back in place.
“There,” she says, grinning at me, sounding satisfied with a day’s work. “Doesn’t it feel good to know you can change a battery yourself?”
I’m grinning too, and I have the nearly overpowering urge to wrap an arm around her back and pull her in for a kiss. She’s tall for a woman, though I still have a few inches on her, but I’d just have to bend my head to meet her lips with mine.
Blinking that thought away, I nod. “I’m not sure I could do it again without help, but yeah. Thanks for your help.”
“My pleasure,” she tosses over her shoulder as she puts the tools away, setting the old battery in the back of my truck. “That should be taken to the city’s hazardous waste disposal site, wherever that is.”
“Okay. I’ll have to Google that. I really do appreciate all your help. Can I take you to dinner to repay you?”
Her smile dims, and she meets my eyes, hers narrowing as she examines my face. Humming softly, she shakes her head. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
“Uh, okay?” I wasn’t expecting that, and I review everything about our interactions today to see if I did or said something that might’ve upset her. But I can’t come up with anything. Clearing my throat, I shake my head. “Well, um, if I can return the favor somehow, let me know, okay? I’ll get out of your hair.”
“You don’t have to—” she starts to protest, but I just give her a soft smile as I move for the driver’s side of my truck. Her protest dies on her lips. We both know she doesn’t want to spend more time with me.
“Thanks again for all your help,” I say as I climb into my truck. “Seriously. You have my number. Let me know when you need an extra pair of hands.” I nod at the car. “Or if you need help hanging pictures or moving something heavy.” I hold up a hand as though to forestall a protest from her, though she isn’t even moving right now, much less talking. “I know you probably won’t because you’ll feel weird about asking later, but don’t feel weird, okay? I want to pay you back.”
Her answering, “Okay,” is almost too soft to hear, but it’s enough. For now, at least.
And with that, I close the door, enjoy the way my truck starts up with no issues, back out of the garage, and head home.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Marissa
I watch Dozer pull away,feeling conflicted.
Ididsay he could pay me back for helping out. While I tossed out him helping me at some nonspecific point in the future, dinner was never on my radar as an option. And that offer of dinner combined with the way his eyes would stray to my lips made it seem like it wasn’t just a friendly dinner invite as payback for a favor.
His offer to help hang pictures seems more … appropriate.
God, I sound like my mother.
Speaking of …
Pulling out my phone, I call my mom. It’s been a while since we talked. Though as soon as I hit the call button, I realize what time it is in Texas and grit my teeth.
“Marissa?” she answers, sounding both alarmed and sleepy. “Sweetheart? Are you okay? Did something happen?”
“No, no. I mean, yes. I’m fine. Everything’s fine. I’m sorry. I’m still getting used to being in a different time zone than you. I didn’t mean to call so late. I just haven’t talked to you in a while, I was thinking about you, and I thought I’d call. It’s nothing important. Did I wake you up?”
“No, sweetie. I wasn’t asleep yet.” I hear grumbling, rustling, and her voice lowers to a whisper. “Hang on. Your dad’s sleeping already, though. Let me go to another room.”
I finish putting away the tools Dozer and I used, then run my hand over my project car. Her hood’s still up, waiting for me to have time to come work on her again, which I probably will tomorrow. Since I’m new in town, I don’t exactly have a full social life. So far, Dozer’s the only person I’ve spent any time with outside of work.
“How are you?” Mom asks, her voice sounding more normal. “How are you settling in?”
I sigh. I shouldn’t because I know Mom’ll zero in on that and interpret it in all kinds of ways, but I can’t hold back.
