To take my mind off the heat inside me, I focus on the photo again. “Is that your son?”
The biggest smile I’ve seen yet splits his face as he glances at the picture and then angles slightly back toward me. “That’s Christian. This photo was taken several years ago. He’s fifteen now. Best thing that ever happened to me.”
The pride in his voice is unmistakable. Strike another one up for my savior. He’s the proud single dad of a presumably disabled son.
I put my hand on Amelia’s knee. “I know the feeling.”
“Here we are,” he declares as we turn into a parking lot.
I look out the window and up at the large sign over the storefront and garages. It reads:Cruz-In Auto Repair Shop.
I scoff, waving my hand at the sign. “I’m not sure I want my car fixed here if the owner can’t even spell the wordCruise.”
Carter laughs. It’s a low, deep, belly-laugh that I really, really like. Maybe I like it because I haven’t heard a man laugh like that in a long time. Maybe ever. Maybe I like it because it seems so genuine and honest. Maybe I like it because of how my heart is flipping over in my chest.
“I’m the owner,” he says, still laughing. “Or one of them anyway. It’smyname. Carter Cruz. C-R-U-Z.”
“Oh,” I say, embarrassed. Where’s the do-over button when you need it? “Well, that makes a lot more sense now.”
He pulls around to the backside of the shop where there’s a huge warehouse.
“You aren’t going to take it directly into a bay?” I ask, worried that my car may not be as big of a priority for him as it is for me.
“The bays are where we do things like oil changes and engine repairs.” He motions to a large garage door on the warehouse. “This is where we do collision repair. I mean, your car will need both, but I’ll assess it here first.” He hops out, raises the large door, then gets back in the truck and expertly backs into the large stall. “Come with me. You can wait in our reception area while I check it out. Do you need anything from the car?”
I hold up the diaper bag, which hasn’t been used as a diaper bag in a while, but is now a catch-all for anything Amelia might need for the car trip. “We’re good for now.”
I unbuckle Amelia, sling my purse and the bag over my shoulder, and get my cup and the paper bag, still heavy with a muffin and other pastries.
The parking lot between the warehouse and the shop is slippery, and Amelia’s feet start to come out from under her.
“Easy there,” Carter says, scooping her up into his arms. “It’s slick, and we haven’t spread salt back here yet.” He holds a free arm out to me. “Take my arm. Can’t have you falling and suing me.”
How ironic that this man thinks I’m a person who would jump at the opportunity to take money from someone.
I roll my eyes, but grip his arm anyway, because, yeah, adding a broken leg to this already awful morning is not on my bingo card.
He holds his arm tight against his body, pressing my hand firmly into the side of his torso, where even through his coat I can feel his tight core muscles. And despite the frigid temperature, warmth spreads throughout my body.
I can’t help the intrusive thought I’m having.
Is it terrible of me to want the repairs to take a while? I mean, the guy is nice to look at.
And unlike everyone else I know, he hasn’t asked a single thing of me.
Yet.
Chapter Three
Carter
“Well, who is this cutie pie?” Mia asks when we come in through the back door.
“This is Amelia and her mom, Kenna. I just towed their car after a little fender bender.”
“Ha!” Kenna exclaims. “If you call that little, I’d hate to see what you call big.”
I wave my arm at her and her daughter. “You’re both alive and well and without a scratch on you. That’s a win in anyone’s book if you ask me.”
