Lark’s voice turns defensive. “He did, but I…whatever. I don’t need to explain anything to you. My point is, I’ll call my brother, it’ll be fine. You can go home.”
I should get back in the truck, but honestly, I’m getting a little joy knowing that my helping her will just piss her asshole brothers off more. I’m already soaked to the bone—might as well stay now.
“Where’s your spare?”
Her jaw grows tight. “I don’t have one.”
I laugh, because I can’t stop it. Well, I was hoping to just change her tire and go home, kiss my daughter, and sleep for at least a few hours. Seems there’s another plan at play.
“All right then, get in my truck.”
Those jade eyes flash with annoyance. “I’d rather not.”
“I’d rather have been home right now, tucking Sadie into bed and climbing in my own since I’m dead on my feet after driving for six hours, but I’m not leaving you on the side of the road in the pouring rain, darling. So you can get in my truck, or we’ll sit here together and wait for one of your brothers to come get you.”
She lets out a groan as her head falls back, rain hitting her beautiful face. “Ugh! I swear!” Lark looks back to me.“Fine.”
“Fine, what?”
“Fine, you can drive me home. Last thing I need is to hear Deacon’s mouth about Jeremy, and at least this might show my family youdohave a heart.”
I have a heart. It just doesn’t bleed for any Gatlins.
“Glad you’re finally seeing sense.”
She moves to my truck and climbs into the cab. I walk over to the horse trailer and start to unhitch it.
Lark’s voice breaks through the storm. “What are you doing?”
I look up, water pouring off the brim of my hat. “Knitting a sweater,” I yell back.
“Cute. I’m a size small.”
I roll my eyes and go back to pulling the hitch.
“Tristan? Seriously, what are you doing?”
This woman is trying my patience. “I’m removing the horse trailer so I can hook up the winch to actually pull you off the road, so your truck doesn’t get slammed into and…someone doesn’t die.”
“Good call,” she replies and then closes the door.
Good call. Unreal.
“Glad you approve.”
I get the trailer off and head back to the truck. I might as well have not even worn rain gear, because I’m sopping wet.
I pull forward and adjust my vehicle to face the front of her truck. My winch is mounted to the front end, and I need to pull hers forward.
Without a word, I get out, and she does the same. “What areyoudoing?” I echo her question from before.
“Helping.”
“Just get dry—I’ve got this.” I do my absolute best not to look at her soaking-wet body. The way that tight shirt clings to every curve and valley.
I do my best, but I fail.
Lark grumbles about men and stupidity before going to the winch. “Go ahead and let out the lead. I’ll hook it up to my bumper.”
