“I know you can do it, and I’m not trying to be some dickhead macho man, but it’s wet and fucking freezing out here; please let me help.” He crouched down next to her, aware that he was in the prime position to take another slap.
“I just can’t get this to budge.” She shifted back and handed him the wheel brace.
His hand brushed her cold one, and for a split second he wanted to grab hold of it and warm it between his.
“How long have you been out here for?” He inched a little further away from her.
“About half an hour. I’m not sure. It was dark already and usually I’d have this done in about ten minutes.” She shook her head. “I can run back and grab some lubricant.”
“I don’t need lubricant.” He couldn’t resist. “Always managed to do the job without it.”
He almost felt her stiffen without any touch between them. Silencing his laughter was difficult. Lainey Green, he imagined, needed plenty of lube and a string quartet.
“Do you deliberately play the role of crude farmer?”
This time he didn’t suppress his chuckle. “I don’t play a role, Boots.”
“Boots?”
He glanced at her knee-high boots that were probably ruined from the gravel and stones.
“Boots. You seem to like them. Not sure they’re appropriate footwear for a farm though.” They were black leather with stiletto heels. She’d probably been on her way out herself. “And the ones you had on early – you might want to save them for best.”
Her laugh wasn’t what he expected. “Does Jake Maynard have a shoe fetish, or maybe it’s his specialist subject: women’s footwear. Ever wear it yourself?”
“No, but I’ve had enough designer shoes modelled for me, with the model not wearing much else.” He picked up one of the nuts she'd removed, and screwed it back in, letting her see what he'd done. He dropped the jack, so the tyre again rested on the ground. Then he moved the brace to the opposite lug from the one that had been left out, and loosened it. “When these get put on with hydraulic tools, they're pretty tight. If you don't do the star pattern – like you draw a star in primary -- the angle of the spanner can make the bolts practically impossible to loosen. No amount of muscle can make up for leverage.” He loosened all of the nuts then jacked the vehicle back up again. “When they're that tight, letting the ground be an extra pair of hands helps.” He spun the nuts out in the same pattern he'd used to loosen them, then he stood up to pull the tyre away, not sure how she’d done this before herself; the fucker was heavy.
He could see even in the poor light from his car that the tyre was basically shredded. “Tell me your spare’s in there.” He pointed to the boot.
Lainey clicked a button on her car keys and the boot opened. “And before you make some snide comment, it’s empty. No need to waste anymore of your precious time.”
“I’ll take that as a thank you for helping.” He pushed the tyre to the side of the road, planning to pick it up tomorrow.
She joined him at the boot, shifting around with him to pull out the spare.
“I can finish it off from here.”
He saw the red of her nails, noticed that one looked broken. Cold as it was, her hands were probably frozen and stiff.
“I don’t doubt that you can.” His patience was about to snap. “Do you have a brother?” He was pretty sure she did.
“One. Shay.” She moved her hands away.
“If he knew that I stood back and let you do this in the dark when it’s fucking freezing and starting to piss it down again, what do you think he’d say?” As annoying as Lainey was, if a man ever let Rayah do this in the same conditions as now without helping, he’d deposit their body in a rockslide off Sharp’s Edge. And he knew Rayah was more than capable.
Jake was met by silence, but she stood back and let him finish without saying anything.
Five minutes later and the rain was pelting down, feeling more like melted ice. The tyre was fixed and would be good for thirty miles, enough to get Lainey to a garage for a new one.
She was shivering in the cold, despite him having offered his car to get warm and dry off. The woman was more stubborn than him – or his sister – and that was saying something.
“I’m hoping you’re going home to warm up.” He wiped his hands on his trousers, trousers that were now filthy.
She nodded. “Quick shower, change and then out. I’ll only be an hour late.”
Her eyes had fixed on his and he couldn’t quite look away.
“I would’ve been able to do that myself.”
