Me: Anna, NO.
Anna: Too late. He’s already on his way. Gotta run! Doing a c-section on a horse! Wahoo!
I muttered my retaliation plans. Flour in her blow dryer. Bouillon cubes in her shower head. Sign her up for countless telemarketers who would hound her from here to eternity.
My phone dinged again.
Ashton: Hey, I’m on my way. We’re working cattle today so I’m coming from Seddledowne. I’ll be there in about forty-five minutes.
I put my toes in the dirt to stop myself from swaying. He was busy. I should tell him not to come. Lie and say I figured something else out. But I did in fact need his help. So I swallowed a large mouthful of humble pie.
Me: Okay. I really appreciate it. I’m sorry to bother you. Mom’s out of town.
Ashton: Don’t ever say that again. You’re not a bother. Now stop texting me so I can drive.
“Grumpy, much?” I frowned and slipped my phone into my pocket. But the frown quickly gave way to a smile. I was going to see Ashton today. And we were saved.
“Aunt Tally, do you want to go down the slide with us?” Theo asked.
I grinned at the two cutest kids in the whole world. “You know it.”
Forty-three minutes later, Ashton pulled up in his white truck. I left the kids on the playground. By the time I got to my car, he was standing next to it waiting for me. Adorably, he was wearing a blue T-shirt with a cowboy throwing a rope and a Kansas City Chiefs hat. Blue had gone twenty-seventh in the NFL draft last week. Not bad for a guy who hadn’t played in a couple of years. Looked like he’d already decked the Duprees out in his new team’s merch.
“Hey,” I said. “Nice hat.”
Ashton held out his hand, ignoring my compliment. “Key.” A scowl dug lines into his forehead.
He turned the car on. After fiddling with the gear shifter for a minute, he flipped his cap backward. I may have swooned a little. Hands resting against the frame, his triceps flexed as he peered at the engine.
A few minutes later, he closed the hood and turned to me, a perturbed purse to his lips. “Has your car been shaking lately?”
“Yes.”
His scowl deepened. “Have your gears been grinding when you shift?”
“Yes.”
“Your engine revving too high but not going faster when you gas it?”
Maybe it was PTSD from having him as a professor the last few years, but this felt like a pop quiz I hadn’t studied for. Sweat sprung up between my shoulder blades. “Yes?”
He glowered. “Yeah. Well. Your transmission is dead.” He huffed like I was an idiot.
“I was going to take it into the shop as soon as I got my first p-paycheck.” My voice trembled. My job started the day after graduation. Payday would be two weeks after that.
“You can’t put off stuff like that. You’re going to have to shell out five or six thousand dollars now.” He frowned, annoyed. Then he rolled his eyes. “Hop in my truck and I’ll drive you home.”
My face flamed and shame rolled over me. But I stopped it in its tracks. I had done the best I could with what I had.
I channeled my inner Brooklyn and put my hand on my hip. “No thanks. I’m not putting those kids in a car with you. They’ve been through enough today.” I snorted. “If I’d known you were going to bea first-classjackass, I would’ve told you not to bother coming.” Then I poked him in his left pec. “What is your problem? Are you still mad about the date? About your nose?” Which looked like it had almost healed. “Mad that I can’t get my crap together to write the bedroom scene? Or mad that you had to take time out of your busy day to come save us?” I poked his other pec. “Trust me, I would’ve asked someone else if I hadanyoneelseto ask.”
His entire countenance fell and he looked shamefaced. “Sorry.” He blew out his breath. “I’m twenty-five percent frustrated that I keep getting sucked into your gravity and seventy percent frustrated…foryou.”
“You’re frustrated for me? About what?”
“Your sister taking off.”
My heart turned into a ball of goo. “Oh.”
