ChapterOne
SETH
On driving around the headland, I spot a familiar sight. What the hell is Skye Fraser doing out here at this time of night? I've just finished asking myself this when I provide the answer.
That heap of crap car of hers has died on her, again. There'd be no other reason she'd be parked up in the middle of nowhere like this. Hell, the only reason I'm out here is that I'm on the way back from a call out.
As I pull my tow truck in behind her pale pink hatchback, I flash my lights twice before turning them off. At the very least, this way she'll know it's me and not some random stranger. After flicking on the hazards, I kill the engine, open the door and jump out.
Rather than be caught with a dead battery, I slam the door shut, with the noise barely audible over the crash of the waves far below. It takes all my concentration to steady my breathing, to tell myself that it's just the waves: not heavy bombardment.
Even after all these years, the P.T.S.D. that saw me leave the military can come back to haunt me, and always at the worst possible times. Rather than give into the anxiety waiting for me in the wings, I focus on the car in front of me, illuminated by my hazards.
This along with some belly breathing, and I anchor myself as much as I can. For sure, it’ll be enough that I can behave in a reasonably normal manner. And if ever there was a woman who could take my mind off the horrors of war, it's Skye Fraser.
And who am I to keep a lady waiting?
Next to the car, I wait for her to roll the window down; instead, she opens her door, telling me the problem is with the car's electrics, although not the battery. I'd made sure she got a new one after saving her the last time.
I swing her door wide and hunker down so we're eye-to-eye. And damn if she isn't easy on the eye. Curves where curves should be and the occasional hollow just begging to be explored.
Thoughts of those fiery locks tumbling over my bare chest have my cock straining for release, leaving me glad it's dark out. There’s no chance of my accidentally showing her what she does to me.
This has me thinking on mundane tasks so I can speak to her rather than give into my desires, and perhaps even hers. I’m sure I haven’t imagined the way she looks at me when she thinks I won’t notice.
Or am I simply deluding myself?
Who was I fooling? Of course she’s not into me. A smart woman like her would hardly be interested in a damaged, dead-beat like me. Sure, she's got issues when it comes to maintaining her car, but other than that, she's as buttoned down as they come.
Oh man, I wouldn't mind making her co...
I shake my head to clear it enough that I’ll be able to hear what the latest issue is with this junker of hers. Honestly, the custom paint job is all that's holding it together. Hell's teeth, the paint job is probably worth more than the car.
"So, Pie in the Skye, what's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?"
SKYE
The lights behind me flashing twice, tell me who it is, with my ovaries immediately singing their approval. There are pluses to driving a rubbish car, with Seth Adams being the biggest plus of all. I've no need of jumper cables when that hottie is around.
He saunters up next to the car and stands there waiting, all while giving me a good view of his ah, package. My breathing hitches because even without fancy wrapping, it’s the gift that keeps on giving.
I push the button to roll the window down, but nothing happens. This at least goes some way toward explaining why the engine died on me.
I was just lucky I hadn't been going fast, because the power steering had given up the ghost at the same time. I’d managed to pump the brakes a couple of times before they’d died, too. Only by yanking on the park brake had I been able to stop completely.
Without that, I’d have continued on over the cliff.
I inch my door open so I can speak to him and he grabs it, opening it wide. On his squatting down next to me, I get a whiff of his aftershave. I’m not sure what it is about that mix of citrus and sandalwood, but it does things to me it has no right doing.
Or could it be more down to the man himself? I should imagine he could douse himself in engine oil, and I’d still find him attractive.
Even if he was covered in oil as I’m currently picturing him, he’s not your usual tow truck driver. There’s no pot belly from hours spent behind the wheel. Rather, Seth’s blessed with a six-pack solid enough that it shows through those tight t-shirts he favors.
Neither does he sport what appears to be the obligatory beard favored by most tow truck drivers. There's nothing to hide how gorgeous he is, nothing. Even that buzz cut he must have gotten used to when he was enlisted suits him.
On seeing his eyes glaze over, I suspect it must be the P.T.S.D. I've heard about. There's no hiding something like that in a place as small as Coogan's Break. One attack and half the town hears about it. A couple more and every man and his dog will know.
His voice when he asks me what's up is deep, rumbling through my body and filling it with longing. It takes all my concentration to remember what's wrong with the car. I'm not making a lot of sense, but there's nothing I can do about it.
Alpha males like Seth Adams do it for me. It's just a shame that little, okay, not so little, pie shop owners like me, don't do it for men like him. Never have, never will.
“I'm really not sure? I was driving along and then everything up and died.”
I pull in a shuddering breath before continuing. “I had to use the park brake...” I'm unable to finish the sentence, as the enormity of how close I'd come to going over the edge settles on me.
I stare straight ahead, even though the dark in front of the car reveals nothing. Mainly because there's nothing there other than fresh air. I've closed my eyes to block it out when Seth leans across in front of me so he can undo my seat belt.
I'm shocked on a couple of levels. Firstly that if I hadn't yanked my park brake on as violently as I had, I could have died. And secondly, that having Seth Adams this close to me has every hair on my body standing at attention.
Only adding to this overload to my system are my girly bits screaming they want in on the action. And for once, I’m tempted to listen to them.
