I roll my eyes. “Look, if you don’t need help, I’m gonna go.”
“My car was …steaming,and I pulled over,” she says, her voice shaky. “I’m afraid to start it again.”
“You mean steam was coming from under your hood?”
“Yeah. I pulled over and turned the car off. But I’m panicking because cornfields surround me… and now there’s a man at my window. This is how every horror movie begins, you know.”
I glance around. Tall cornstalks sway on both sides of the road—just like every rural road in southern Indiana this time of year.
“I take it that you’re not from around here,” I say.
“Not sure how that information is pertinent.”
The fuck?“Excuse me?”
“It just feels like a very personal question coming from a man I don’t know,” she says.
“Well,this man you don’t knowis only trying to help.”
“I didn’t ask you to stop,sir.”
My eyes go wide, and I half laugh.Fuck this. “No. No, you didn’t. Good luck to ya.”
I turn to leave when a knock comes on the glass. “Wait.”
Looking over my shoulder, I’m surprised to see the door swing open. I’m even more surprised to see someone climb out of the car. But none of that matches my amazement at the woman who steps around the corner of the door.
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
CHAPTER 2
Megan
Holy.Fucking. Shit.
A set of extraordinary green eyes capture my gaze. They’re so intense that I stutter.
“Um, I …” I start, but the words just won’t come.What was I saying?
Squarish jaw. Dimpled chin. A day’s worth of stubble dots his cheeks. Thick brows frame those ridiculous eyes, and a slightly crooked nose parts his sharp cheekbones.
The chill that has tormented me since I broke down has vanished, and in its place is a heat that gathers in my core.
My phone in one hand, my other hand curled tightly around a hairbrush—the only weapon I could find to use in my defense at a moment’s notice. I stand in the middle of a mud puddle and try to regain my composure.
He’s too handsome to be helpful. Men this attractive are usually worthless.
“Do you want my help or not?” he asks, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.
I clear my throat. “Yes. Please.”
Please don’t make me regret getting out of this car.
“So what was it doing? Steaming?” he asks. “Anything else?”
“It started … boiling. Then there was a pop before it started hissing.” I shiver against the wind. “Hard to hear anything over the car's frame smashing a pothole every three feet.”
He lifts a brow. “How long have you been sitting here?”
