Finally she let out a heavy sigh and met his gaze. “My spare’s flat as well. I meant to get it fixed but…didn’t get around to it.”
She drove a wreck and her tires were shit. It didn’t make sense.Don’t say it.“Do you want me to give you a ride home?”
“Oh, that’s”—she hesitated and the tip of her tongue peeked between her lips for one tempting moment. Obviously she was thinking up an excuse to refuse his offer. “I wouldn’t want to put you to any trouble.”
Was that a refusal? “It’s no trouble. Saves you waiting in the cold until they send out a tow truck.”
She looked up the road again. Who the hell was she looking for? “It’s good of you to offer. But I’m not really dressed for biking.”
Had she been looking for hisbike? “I’ve not had a bike in five years.”
That got her attention. “I didn’t know that.” She sounded as though she should. But why would she? They’d hardly seen each other since Colton had died, and on the few occasions they had,his bikewas the last thing he’d ever talk about with her.
“Is that a yes?”Could he sound any more desperate for her company?He offered her what he hoped was a sardonic smile. “Or don’t you trust me?”I sure as hell don’t trust me around you.
So why had he offered her a ride?Because I’m a fucking masochist.
