Page 4 of New Girl in Town
“Home,” he said.
I nodded and handed the keys back to him. “Ah.”
He braced a hand on the door. “I got the spare on, but I don’t want you to go too far on it.”
I bit my lip, holding back the response fighting to bubble up out of me. I wanted to say I didn’t have to listen, that no one could tell me what to do in my own car, but I knew it was irrational and unfair to say to someone I had just met.
He didn’t know what I was running from. This man was only trying to be kind.
I nodded, swallowing my sharp words. “Sure,” I said, and settled for taking in an eyeful of the man in front of me. The blue flannel shirt he wore was plastered to him like a second skin, and his jeans—oh, those jeans were going to haunt my dreams for a good week.
Forget wet t-shirt contests; was there such a thing as soaked denim contests?
“....get you back on the road,” he said, cutting into my train of lewd thoughts.
I’d been off in lalaland while he’d been speaking. “I—what?” I blinked at him, and earned a crooked smile.
“I said the snow looks like it’s letting up, so we should probably get you back on the road. Better for the spare tire,” he told me, holding a hand out, and I blushed, sure that my eyes had told him where my mind had strayed.
“Of course. Thank you.” I managed a smile. The combination of snow and my tractionless flip-flops was enough to push me to slip my hand into his. I needed all the support I could get if I wanted to make it back to my car without face-planting.
The second the calloused skin of his fingers slid against mine, I knew I had made a mistake. The ghost of a shiver slid up my spine. I was a panting mess by the time we reached my car. I dropped his hands as soon as I was able to support myself against my vehicle and jerked the door open with more force than necessary.
“Thanks. I’ve, um—I have some cash that I can give you for helping,” I told him, gesturing to the car, but he waved me off.
“No cash, just your name.” He gave me his eye-crinkling smile and a flash of white teeth that stole my breath and set my heart pounding.
I hadn’t been wrong in my assessment that he’d wanted me ogling him.
“Aurora,” I blurted out before I could stop myself, and then, because I was a masochist, I added, “Martínez. My name is Aurora Martínez.”
“Pretty name, Aurora,” he said with a look that reduced me to a blushing pre-teen. I leaned forward, waiting for him to tell me his name, but instead he just nodded at me and said, “Drive safe, Aurora.”
“Umm,” I said. I’d expected anything else but his quick response, and I stepped forward after him. “Hey. What about your name?”
“My name?” he said, looking over his shoulder but not stopping.
“Yeah…?”
He grinned and pulled open his door. “I’d give it to you, but you didn’t change my tire, Aurora.” He swung up into his truck while smiling another one of his devastating smiles.
I did my best to pick my jaw up off the snowy road. I shook my head at him, but I couldn’t stop from laughing at his response. He was right. I hadn’t changed his tire.
Maybe Colorado’s welcome wasn’t so bad after all.
