“Yeah. It’s a hobby. Earns me a few quid along with the cars.”
“Cars?” I spin around in the yard but only see a pickup.
“I fix cars. You need a new fan belt, by the way. Your brake pads are also wearing thin. I doubt she’d pass an MOT.” He points towards my mini.
“You checked my girl out?”
He nods, keeping his eyes on my car. “She’s pretty fine. Still plenty of life left in the old girl.”
I don’t miss how he calls my car the same thing I do. We might not be related, but we have more in common than I thought.
His lips press together when he focuses back on me. “You just need to take better care of her.”
I dig my fist into my hip. “Look, I know what she needs. I’m not exactly rolling in dough at the minute. I was hoping Daddy would be a billionaire, but no such luck.”
“No billionaire here, unfortunately.” His warm smile reaches his silvery-blue eyes as he gazes upon me. “I can be your daddy, though.”
I suck in a breath. The words travel straight to my centre and my whole body tenses.
His hand rubs the back of his neck. “Damn. That came out wrong. Shit. I mean, I’ll take care of you.” He throws the glasses from his head onto the cabinet. “You can stay as long as you like. It’s what your mother would’ve wanted.”
I relax a little and take a sip of my milk. “Thanks.”
He steps closer, bringing his hand to my face as if he's going to kiss me. My body freezes apart from my pulsing centre.
The rough pad of his thumb swipes above my top lip. “You have a milk ‘tash.” He grins.
The pulse between my legs travels to my neck. Heat blooms on my cheeks. “Oh. Thanks.”
“Come on. Let’s get breakfast.” He pulls a set of keys from his pocket and clicks the button, unlocking the Ford Ranger. He opens the door for me, holding out a hand to help me climb in. I’m not that small, but with Kane’s six foot frame and the truck, I feel tiny.
“Aren’t you gonna lock up?” I pinch my eyebrows together as he slips behind the wheel.
“No need. Belle will bite the hand of any stranger who breaks in. Besides, nobody ever comes up here.” He starts the engine and drives off the gravel drive, down the winding country lane that leads onto the main road. “Hungry?”
“Starving.” My stomach grumbles as I say the word. I haven’t eaten a proper meal in days.
“How old are you now? You must be what, seventeen?” He glances back at me, taking his eyes off the road.
“I’m eighteen. They wouldn’t let me see my file until I was eighteen.” Even though I tried many times. Even broke into the office one night. “When I got your address from my file, I typed it in on maps and saw an old photo of a Kane Harding outside the house. You look the same now as you did then.”
He huffs out a laugh. “That was probably my dad. He was called Kane Harding, too.” He side eyes me, a crease worrying his brow. “Did you Google anything else?”
“Only Mum. But I knew everything already from my file.” I stare out the window at the fields. Such a beautiful part of the country. Mum was lucky to grow up here instead of in the city.
We pull up at a container parked in a lay-by. A greasy makeshift burger joint, but the smell has my stomach growling. Kane grabs a hoodie from the back seat and hands it to me, nodding at my chest. “Cover yourself.”
I look down at my breasts in the tight vest top, one I’ve had since I was about sixteen, like most of my clothes—old and ill-fitting. I glance at Kane. His steely eyes bore into me and I can see he has no intention of moving until I’m covered. Only I can’t work out if it’s embarrassing to be seen with a chubby girl, wearing tight clothes, or old clothes—Though his work jeans are filthy and torn and his t-shirt is also filthy. Or is it the protective father in him, trying to do right by my mother? I’ve never had that before. Hoping it’s the latter, I pull his hoodie over my head, inhaling the smell of oak and a familiar scent of weed.
A smile spreads across my face, and I hope I can get a smoke. I used the last of my money on fuel to get here and haven’t had a cigarette since yesterday morning. The nerves of coming here had me chain-smoking my way across the country.
I slip out of the vehicle, practically having to jump with my short legs and walk fast to keep up with him. Once inside, there are a few empty tables. Men in trade uniforms mainly fill the container. Eyes fix on us at the counter, but it’s not me they’re looking at. Kane has the ability to grab the attention of any crowd, but they sheepishly look and glance away, going back to their breakfast as if they’re afraid.
Some sort of pride fills my chest, knowing I’m with him, and a sense of protection shrouds me as I stand at his side.
“What do you want, Vi?”
I swallow. Nobody has called me Vi before, my usual nickname being Letty. The way he says it so casually, like he’s practiced my name on his tongue many times and always knew he would call me that. Did Mum call me Vi? Such a silly, simple thing, but means so much.
