Of course, the woman half pulled over with a flat tire is Lark Gatlin.
Lark, the most stunning, kind, and off-limits woman I know. There’s no way in hell I will ever be involved with anyone from her family. No thanks. I don’t need that kind of drama in my life. I have plenty between my daughter and my own family.
I tamp down the desire that always flows when I see her, and I glower, getting soaked. “Is flat,” I finish for her. Her wipers keep going, flicking water at me.
“It is. Thanks for stopping, Tristan, but I’ll be fine.”
Lark is the only Gatlin I am actually even willing to pause to help. If it were either of her dickhead brothers, I’d already be in my dry, warm truck. Their family has been the bane of my existence since the day I was born.
They’re selfish, arrogant, full of shit, and love nothing more than trying to make my family’s life a living hell.
Things go missing, we had instances of vandalism, and the cops show up at my farm every fucking week with some bullshit accusation that we’re targeting the Gatlins, when I’m pretty sure they’re the ones doing it themselves just to make us look like the bad guys.
Even with the generational hate between us, the idea of leaving her here doesn’t sit well with me.
“Is someone coming to help?” I ask.
“I’m sure they are as soon as they can.”
That’s a no. “I’m not going to leave you on the side of the road. Do you have any flares?”
She sighs. “No, I don’t.”
I imagine what my mother would say if she were still alive. She’d tell me to always do the right thing, especially for a lady, no matter what.
Sometimes it really sucks having parents who raised you to be a gentleman.
“Stay here. I’ll move my truck so we don’t all die, and then I’ll change your tire.”
“No! No, you don’t need to do that,” she argues, but I’m already walking away.
There’s no way I’m leaving her stranded on the side of the road.
Once I’m inside, I send a text to Sadie.
I’m going to be a little later. Someone is stuck and I need to help them. Go on to bed and I’ll wake you when I get home.
Sadie
Okay, Daddy. Be careful.
Always am, Cupcake.
I back up the trailer and truck a little, giving us some buffer so if anyone hits us, they’ll hit the empty horse trailer first. After that, I get out and head back to Lark.
Out of her truck, she’s trying to pull a sweatshirt over her head, but her tank top is getting soaked. “Seriously, you don’t need to help me.”
“Need to or not, I’m going to. Get in the truck so you don’t get drenched.”
“Too late. I’ll call my brothers or something.”
“You didn’t call them already?” I ask.
Lark huffs and wipes her wet hair off her face, then gives up on the sweatshirt and tosses it into the truck, since it wasn’t doing a damn thing to help anyway. “I was going to, but then you came, and I thought you were Jeremy, but he told me he didn’t want to drive in the storm…”
“Your boyfriend? You called him, and he didn’t want to come out because it’sraining?”
Her glare is sharp enough to slice, but I don’t give two shits. If my woman called and needed me, I would be here. No excuses. Not a fucking thing would stop me.
