He stands and stretches as headlights glide down the road, the hem of his shirt lifting just enough to reveal a glimpse of his tanned, sculpted stomach. Good thing he was looking the other way because I’m pretty sure I just drooled. I snap my eyes away. “That’ll be the tow truck,” I say quickly.
“Looks like it,” he says, eyes still on the road. “I can take you home, if you want. I’d feel better doing that than leaving you to ride off with some random guy in a tow truck.”
I start to say it’s not necessary, but the thought of climbing into a truck with a complete stranger suddenly doesn’t sound like the smartest plan. At least I’ve heard of Randy, so between the two, he’s the safer bet.
He watches me as I think it over; as if sensing my thoughts, he adds, “I’m not gonna hurt you, Rachel.”
“I know,” I reply a little too quickly. “Thank you, that would be really helpful.” I do trust him. Hell, he made national headlines for saving his teammate’s girlfriend after she was kidnapped at gunpoint just a few days ago.
“Wow—shedoessmile! You should do that more often. It looks gorgeous on you.”
I raise an eyebrow and offer him a weak smile. Charismatic or what, Mr. Quarterback? And yet, despite myself, I totally just swooned.Damn him.
“Okay, I will be right back, better move my truck out of the way.”
I watch as he jogs over to his vehicle, shifting it to the opposite side of the road just as the tow truck pulls up. I open my door and start gathering my things, purse, phone, books, Sam’s car seat, trying to act like I’m not hyper-aware of him watching me as he approaches.
“Are you able to put this in your car, please,” I ask, holding the seat out to him.
“Sure,” he says without hesitation, taking it from me with easy confidence.
Once my car is safely loaded onto the back of the tow truck, I climb into Randy’s truck. It’s a dark blue Ford F-150, and luckily has a sidestep or I might’ve needed a second attempt to get in.
Right on cue, just as Randy starts the engine, my stomach growls loud enough to be unmistakable. He glances over and stifles a laugh.
I close my eyes, cheeks burning.
“Are you hungry?” he asks, still smiling.
Humiliated, I own it based on the attention my stomach just caused. “Starving. I don’t think I’ve eaten since breakfast.” I think back to this morning, making bacon and eggs for Sam, his favorite, before smothering him in hugs and kisses and watching my parents drive away with him for the weekend to visit my grandparents. I made the most of the day, tucked away in the library, knocking out pages of work while I didn’t have to chaseafter him. Just one more assignment to hand in and I’m done. Bring on the Christmas break. I was feeling pretty good about everything I'd managed… until my cheap-ass car decided to die on me.
“I just visited my mom, had lunch a few hours ago, but I’m already hungry,” he says with a shrug. “I’m always hungry. There’s a diner just down the road. Want to stop there and grab something?” His hand lifts briefly from the steering wheel to point ahead.
“I’d appreciate that. I have no idea what’s even in my fridge right now.”
“Done.”
We drive for a few quiet minutes, and I take the time to glance around his truck. It’s big. Masculine. Randy’s fingers tap along the steering wheel in time with the music playing low from the radio. He’s gorgeous. Hot man, hot car.
I twist in my seat to check the back. It’s spotless, just a duffle bag and a football sitting next to Sam’s car seat and my clutter. Nothing like my car, which looks like a toy store and a laundry basket had a head-on collision.
“So, do you have a kid or a really young sibling?” Randy asks as he looks at me looking at the back seat.
“I have a son,” I say without hesitation. I don’t hide the fact that I have a son to anyone, nor do I act ashamed because… I’m not. He is by far the best thing in my life, and I couldn’t be prouder of him. Getting pregnant at sixteen wasn't exactly what I'd planned, and it took a while to get over the initial shock. But honestly, I wouldn't trade it for anything. Sam is my whole world.
“He must keep you busy,” he says, pulling into a parking spot near the front of the diner and cutting the engine.
“Yeah, it’s a juggling act some days with studying and being a single mom.”
The words are out before I can stop them. I cringe. Why did I saysingle?
“I bet,” he says with a smile as he grabs his wallet and phone out of the center console.
We both exit the car and enter the diner, a few people turning to look at the town’s golden boy. He must get looks all the time because he doesn’t seem to notice, or maybe he is just so used to it.
We are seated at a booth by the front window overlooking the parking lot, and we both order the same, a burger with fries and soda, and it’s not long before the food is delivered to our table.
“So, what do we have together?”
