“I don’t know, Madi.” He shrugged and flipped his turn signal. “If he’s unhinged, his reasons will make sense to him but not to us.”
He was right.
“There isn’t enough evidence to convict him.” I tried using terms he should understand as a PI in training. Terms my father and brother, both former cops, would absolutely understand.
“No, but the circumstantial evidence is too compelling to ignore.” Matt parked near the mechanic’s front office and asked, “Want me to come in with you?”
“No.” I looked towards the bay, where O.P. hovered in the air thanks to the lift. “Thanks for asking.” My smile probably looked as fake as it felt as I exited the black SUV.
The scent of heavy oil and the brrrp of a power tool assaulted my senses as the woman behind the desk asked, “How can I help you?”
“I’m Madeleine Sheppard.”
“You’re here for the purple Jeep?”
“I am.”
“I love the color. Custom?” She asked, sorting through papers.
“Thanks. It is.”
“Here we go. There’s no structural damage, but the melted tire needs to be replaced.”
“That was fast.”
“Your dad called in a favor.”
I wanted to be at him, but how could I be? The mechanic wouldn’t have looked at O.P. mere minutes before the shop closed without Dad’s help.
“Thanks.”
“Sure thing. We had to order the tire; it should arrive tomorrow morning.”
One day without my car.It could be worse.The thought didn’t keep my irritation from rising.I wouldn’t be here if someone hadn’t set it on fire.
As I filled out the paperwork, she asked, “Do you need a rental?”
“No, I have a ride.”
She looked over my shoulder. “Is it that gorgeous stud leaning on the SUV?”
I glanced over my shoulder.Of course. Matt wasn’t sitting in his truck. He leaned casually against the passenger door. Well, to someone who hadn’t grown up with cops, he looked casual.
And sexy. His boot-clad right foot rested against the tire, his jeans hugged his thick, tattoo-covered calves. His tattoos weren’t visible, but the tribal and geometric designs lived rent-free in my mind.
Matt touched the edge of his baseball cap bill as he dipped his head in greeting.
His grin made me want to take him home and strip him out of his leather jacket and…
The receptionist interrupted my thoughts. “Damn, girl. I wish I had a man who looked at me like that.”
I wasn’t sure I agreed. He was sexy as sin, and he played the part well, but men like Matt lived to play the field. He’d never settle down, and even if he did, I wouldn’t be the one he chose.
Playboys like Matt didn’t want fiercely independent women who had secret, hopeless romantic sides. They wanted less complex partners.They certainly don’t want a woman who has three overbearing brothers.Men who made dating her a pain in the ass.
Or in Matt’s case, a pain in the eye. The black eye may have happened in training, but Jay’s message was loud and clear.
As I approached, Matt opened my door. This playboy acted more like a gentleman than most men I’d dated.
