Silence filled the cab until Ratchet sniffed at him, dragging his wet, drooling lips across the arm of Everett’s jacket.
“I think your dog has an overactive salivary gland.”
“He’s just not a fan of car rides,” she said.
“He’s not going to puke on me, is he?”
“You know, I thought about teaching him to puke on command, but it wasn’t in my dog training book.”
He chuckled. “I’m glad, since, you know, I’m such a nice guy. Helping out a damsel in distress. I should definitely get more than a lap full of puke.”
“You like to toot your own horn, don’t you?”
Everett couldn’t resist tapping the horn several times.
The husky sound of her laughter filled the truck, and satisfaction uncurled in his stomach. He wanted to hear more of it, wanted it louder and freer. There was still a hitch, as if she was scared to let herself go, and he wanted to get around that, to help her.
For some crazy, unknown reason, he felt like she needed him.
CALLIE STOOD NEXT to Everett, nibbling her lip thoughtfully, as he talked to Jose. In the last twenty minutes, she had laughed, teased, and smiled more than she had with any man in the last seven years, even her friend, Mike Stevens. But Mike didn’t stir her the way Everett did.
“Jose Rameriz, this is Callie Jacobsen.”
Everett’s hand grazed her shoulder and despite the thick sweatshirt that separated his skin from hers, an electric shock raced down her arm. She looked up at him sharply, wondering if he’d caught her swift intake of breath, because his hand dropped back to his side suddenly. It was true she didn’t like to be touched in most instances, but Everett’s warm strength kept drawing her to him. She would have never gotten into his car otherwise.
“Hi, Callie.” Jose held his hand out to her, his smile bright. He was a handsome man with light brown skin, almost the same color of a gingerbread cookie, and deep, soulful brown eyes. He was a good head shorter than Everett and less imposing too—despite his sleeve tattoos and the spider tat on his neck.
Or he’s less imposing because he doesn’t make your heart race.
Callie took his hand with a firm squeeze. “It’s nice to meet you, Jose.”
“Callie is a little strapped and was wondering about a payment plan for two tires. I can vouch for her.”
It was on the tip of her tongue to tell Everett that she could speak for herself, but Jose’s raised eyebrows and sly expression stopped her. Why did he look so amused? His gaze shifted between them, and her cheeks flamed as she realized that Jose probably thought they were sleeping together.
“Yeah, sure. We can work something out. What are the dimensions? I’ll check out what we’ve got in stock.” He held up a notepad and pen that he’d pulled from his pocket.
Everett rattled off her tire size, surprising her. How did he remember all that? She had issues remembering her social security number, which she’d been reciting since birth.
“Make and model? Year?” Jose asked.
“A two thousand four Jeep Wrangler.”
“All right, just hang tight.”
Jose headed into the back, leaving Everett and Callie alone.
“He thinks we’re . . . involved,” Callie hissed.
Everett glanced down at her, and she would have had to be blind to miss the unholy twinkle in his eyes. “So?”
“It’s not true.”
“Don’t worry. Jose doesn’t gossip.”
Callie spluttered. “It’s not about the gossip, it’s that . . . I don’t want or need a boyfriend.”
“Okay.”