She’s not at fault here. She didn’t do anything you haven’t done. You’re pissed at her because she held you to your word? Fuck your feelings, asshole.
Having feelings was damned inconvenient.
I stared down at Jocelyn, fumbling to get her car started, a million thoughts running through my head—disgust at myself, anger at her, intense irritation, and arousal, which had started the moment I caught her scent—until I realized what I was seeing.
When I heard her groan of failure, all those other feelings dropped right out of my mind, and my entire being snapped into sharp focus of one goal: helping her.
I stepped forward and tapped gently on the window.
Her only response was another groan as she lifted her forehead and dropped it back again. My lips twitched as I realized she was as dramatic as I was.
“Joss, can I help you?”
“Do you know anything about engines?” she mumbled.
I’m not sure if she intended me to hear it through the window. I’m not sure if she realized how sharp my senseswere. I’m not sure if she’d meant for me to hear that earlier comment aboutnot wanting to be hurt.
But I had.
“Joss, I’ve spent the last decade operating heavy equipment. Yeah, I know a bit about engines.”
I saw her blow out a breath, saw her straighten. She reached for the handle and the little pull to pop the hood, and when she emerged, she began rambling as she led me to the front of the car.
“It’s been threatening to die on me for ages. I should’ve started looking for a new car a few months ago but didn’t have the money. Wouldn’t have been able to afford this weekend if I had, I guess. So that was worth it. But I don’t know what to do, or how I’m going to get home, or…”
“Hey, it’s okay, Kitten,” I said gently, settling the hood on the support rod. “Let’s see what we’ve got.”
I’d watched her try to crank the car, and there’d only been that hollow click—nothing had caught, not even a sluggish attempt. That narrowed down the diagnoses pretty quick. Now I leaned down, eyes tracking the starter housing, fingers checking the connections out of habit more than hope. Everything looked intact. No corrosion, no loose cables. Which meant her starter was dead.
“Yeah.” I pointed “Engine’s not even trying to turn.”
Jocelyn had been hovering at my side, close enough to touch. Now when she leaned over to see where I was pointing, and her arm brushed mine, I could feel myKteerhowl.
Damn, I really wanted her, didn’t I? That one night hadn’t been enough to get her out of my system.Wonder if you could talk her into another night…
I’d watched her try to leave, and I felt like my chest was cracking in two. Her car troubles meant I had a few more minutes with her, even as I railed against myself for trying to facilitate her leaving.
But the more I poked and muttered to myself, the more my hopes raised.
I swallowed. “So your starter is shot,” I told her as I straightened. When had it gotten so dark? “We could pull it out and see if we can diagnose it, or we can wait for a new one.”
“New one?” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I don’t have the time or the money for that.”
“Okay, I’ll see what we can do.”
“We?” she asked tentatively.
“There’s a male on the island who runs an autobody shop. Cairo—he’s not bad.” I liked him because he didn’t see the need to sugarcoat shit either. “I trust him.”
Jocelyn’s nod was tentative. “Then I trust him too.”
Fuck me, why didthathit me right in the chest? That little vote of confidence? Damn.
I was pulling out my phone when I realized the sky had darkened with fast-moving clouds. Frowning up at them, I waited for Cairo to pick up.
“What?”
That’s why I liked him: to the point, no small talk. “You got a starter sitting around? I’m looking at a broken one.”
