Page 16 of First Chance

Without a word, Lochlan ushers me in front of him and out the door, mumbling something along the lines of, “…beat fuckers off with a stick.”

“What did you say?” I ask, not thinking I heard him right.

“Nothing.”

“Do you know him? He knew your name?”

“People tend to know who I am around here, unfortunately. I used to wear my hood up everywhere I went, but it didn’t matter. Not enough guys around here my height to fool anyone.”

“You shouldn’t have to hide.”

“Shouldn’tandhave todon’t belong in that sentence together, darlin’,” he drawls, his voice haunted by the past.

Despite all of my mixed feelings about Lochlan Dane and his grumpiness, my cheeks still heat when he calls me that. It’s a common term of endearment in the south, so common that it’s impersonal. But, I’m afraid that I like it.

We walk past old vehicles in every variety, a couple of old tow trucks, piles and piles of trashed parts, but thirty minutes later, we leave empty-handed with a promise from creepy Jerry that he’ll keep an eye out for what Lochlan needed.

Once we’re back at the sanctuary, I start to go back inside, but he stands motionless by the truck for several seconds.

“Everything alright?”

“I think one of the tires is going flat.” He cocks his head slightly and curses. “I must’ve run over a screw at thejunkyard.”

He calls Hayes, who joins us shortly, and they work together to pull off the damaged tire and put on the spare.

I’ve never seen anyone jack a car up or lift a tire, or the way muscles flex when they do those things…

Watching men work is a new interest of mine as I sit on the porch steps, admiring the view.

“Hey, girl,” Seiver says from beside me, suddenly, making me jump out of my skin. “Woah, sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. I was… Distracted,” I say as Lochlan lifts the old tire and puts it in the back of the Bronco. Seiver snorts at my obvious discomfort.

“I used to be able to do that too, ya know.” He bounces his bushy eyebrows in a corny way, making me laugh.

“Do what?” Lochlan asks as he walks toward us, wiping his hands with a rag.

“Nothing.” I glance at Seiver, and he smirks, but doesn’t say anything.

“I can’t believe you took the Bronco out and didn’t take me,” Hayes huffs from behind him. “I’ve only been asking for two damn years.”

“You’ll survive.”

“Let me drive it.”

“No.”

“I know I’m not as pretty as Jo, but damn.” Hayes feigns annoyance.

“No one is as pretty as Jo,” Seiver adds.

I bump the ornery, sweet old man with my shoulder. “You’re my favorite,” I whisper, making him smile.

“Incoming,” Hayes says suddenly.

I look up at the same time Lochlan looks away from meand to the four-wheeler approaching us.

“Boss, sorry to interrupt, but there’s something you’ve gotta see,” one of the workers says.

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