Page 25 of Sweetly Yours

The sun is just starting to dip below the mountains when I finally lock up Sweetly Yours for the night. It’s been a long day, and all I can think about is getting home, taking a hot shower, and relaxing with Brock.

As I walk toward my car, I fish my keys out of my bag, but something catches my eye when I get closer. The back of the car looks off—lower than usual. My stomach tightens as I step around to the rear, and sure enough, both back tires are completely flat, the rubber sagging onto the pavement.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I mutter, crouching down to get a closer look. There’s no mistaking it—they’re not just low on air; they’re shredded.

Frustration bubbles up as I straighten, glancing around the empty parking lot. I grab my phone from my bag and hover my thumb over Brock’s number. He’s supposed to come over tonight, and the last thing I want is to bother him with this. Butwhat choice do I have? Still, I can’t exactly leave the car here overnight.

I bite my lip and call him. He picks up on the second ring, his deep voice instantly soothing. “Hey, baby.”

“Hey,” I say softly, leaning against the car. “So, um, I’ve got a bit of a situation.”

“What’s going on?” he asks, his voice immediately sharpening with concern.

“I walked out to get in my car and noticed that my back two tires are flat. I must have run over something on the way here and not even realized it.

“Give me ten minutes, and I’ll be there to change it.”

“You don’t have to do that,” I say, shaking my head even though he can’t see me. “I was going to figure it out—”

“Willow,” he cuts me off, his voice firm but full of affection. “Stop. I’m your man. It’s my job to take care of you.”

The way he says it—so matter-of-fact, like it’s the simplest truth in the world—sends a warmth spreading through my chest.

“Okay,” I say softly. “Thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me, baby. I’ll see you in ten.”

The gravel crunches under Brock’s truck as it pulls into the parking lot, his headlights slicing through the shadows of the early evening. Relief floods through me as he steps out, his broad shoulders and steady stride instantly making me feel safer.

He doesn’t waste any time, heading straight for me with that purposeful energy that always makes me feel like everything’s going to be okay.

“Alright, baby,” he says, his voice calm but firm. “Let’s take a look.”

I point to the front tire, trying to keep my voice steady. “It’s flat. I was about to call roadside assistance, but you said—”

“Don’t worry about that,” he cuts in gently, crouching down next to the tire. “I’ve got it.”

He runs his hand over the rubber, his eyes narrowing as his fingers trace along the surface. His jaw tightens, and something in his expression shifts.

“Willow,” he says, his tone sharper now. “Come here.”

I step closer, wrapping my arms around myself as a cool breeze brushes past. “What’s wrong?”

He doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he straightens and moves to the back of the car, crouching down again. My stomach twists as I follow him.

“Shit,” he mutters under his breath, his voice tight.

“What?” I ask, my heart starting to race.

He stands slowly, his broad frame radiating tension as he turns to face me. “It’s not just one tire, Willow. Both back tires are slashed.”

My stomach flips. “Slashed? Are you sure?”

He nods, his lips pressing into a thin line. “It’s deliberate. Clean cuts.”

I crouch next to him, staring at the neat, straight line along the side of the back tire. My throat tightens, and I feel a wave of unease wash over me.

“Who would do this?” I whisper, my voice trembling.

---