“Thanks.” He closed his fingers around the rod and tucked it into the pocket of his jeans. “Is it okay if I show someone else this footage?”
Her head low, she picked at her cuticle again. “You will let me know if it leads to anything?”
Unable to stop himself, he dropped to one knee next to her chair until she lifted her chin and looked at him again. He took the hand of the cuticle she couldn’t seem to stop maligning and gave it a small squeeze. “What do you take me for, Haseya?”
She rolled her eyes at the sound of her real name. “Why does everyone have to keep calling me that?”
Because it’s extraordinary, like you.She’d shown him every part of who she was. She’d trusted him with each. Haseya. Sassy. All the versions of her she showed the world and all the ones she tucked away for self-preservation purposes. “Tell you what,” he said, “I’ll never call you Haseya again.”
Her lips twitched, and he saw the miracle of her sunny disposition peering through the gnarl of fear and worry the last few days had wrought. “If…” she prompted, sensing that he wasn’t finished.
He turned his lips up into a smile. “If you give me back my truck keys.”
The laugh burst out of her, surprising them both. Groaning, she stuffed one hand into the pocket of her overalls and pulled out the fob. Before he could take it, she held out her pinkie finger. “Pinkie swear you’ll use it wisely,” she warned, brows raised.
Even without makeup, she was stunning. Did she know how stunning she was? His heart leapfrogged over the next few beats and he fought to keep the smile in place. He would protect her, defend her…and he would figure out what was lurking outside her door, come hell, high water or heartbreak. Extending his pinkie, he linked it with hers. “I pinkie swear.”
* * *
The next morning, Nick caved and let Sassy take his truck keys once more to drive to the auto shop after she dropped him and Riot off at River House. As she parked on the curb in front of the elegant facade of the long-term care facility, she rolled down her window. “Aw. Look, Riot. Your fan club awaits.”
Nick stared in surprise at the welcome party on the benches and rocking chairs lining the porch. Among them was his mother, waving as soon as she saw them, and her friend, the surly-faced Mr. Kincaid, Sassy’s favorite octogenarian. “Watch out for that one,” she cautioned.
“Why?” Nick asked, swinging the passenger door open to step out. Riot tapped happy paws against the floor of the backseat in anticipation of his owner unleashing him on the River House residents.
“He’s my boyfriend.” Sassy winked when Nick’s jaw dropped. “Don’t make him jealous. He’s feisty.”
“Should I tell him we’re not together?”
Her teasing smile fled. Running her tongue over her teeth behind her lips, she frowned at herself. Thatwastheir truth. Why did it bother her? “Nah,” she said, trying to sound nonchalant. “Let him think I’m playing the field. Keep him guessing.”
Nick chuckled as he dropped to the ground, closed his door and opened Riot’s. He gripped his leash. “Out you go,” he said, grunting as he caught Riot’s middle before he could superman to the ground.
She caught his grimace as the save tweaked his wrist. “Meet you for lunch?”
“At the brewery, right?”
“I’m tired of burgers,” she contemplated. “How about Jessamine’s?”
“Sounds good,” he decided, wrapping Riot’s leash around his good hand. “Good luck at the auto shop.”
“Bye, boys,” she called. “Make good choices!”
Nick shut the door, but not before she caught his rueful grin. Sassy tooted the horn, waving at those on the porch, and eased the truck away from the curb.
She could’ve walked to Bucket of Bolts Auto Tune, the shop owned by Sal Spalding who’d sold her the Bronco back in high school. But she was wary. It would be a while before sidewalks were her friend again, even if the near hit-and-run had been an isolated incident.
After what she’d seen on the security feed last night, she didn’t know what to think anymore. Worse, her imagination was getting the better of her. She hadn’t been able to fall asleep once she and Nick had returned to the house last night.
Perhaps that was a good thing. She couldn’t afford any more wet dreams with the subject of her current fantasies and his lovable pooch couch surfing to ensure she was safe inside her own house.
It took seconds for her to pull into Sal’s parking lot. She could see the Bronco in one of the open bays of the shop. The sight of it raised off the ground on the hydraulic lift made her anticipation falter.
Sal’s message this morning, she’d assumed, had been good. Why then was her baby still jacked up on stilts?
She blew through the door of Sal’s. The shop was empty, an unfortunate result of competing against the chain auto shops popping up on every corner.
The grizzly-bearded man with tattoos winding around his muscled arms came through the door to the garage, wiping his hands on a shop rag. He took one look at her and sighed. “Sassy.”
