Page 32 of Mustang Summer

I can help you get the Shelby.

He’d asked how, but she’d cut him off and asked if he was free Sunday.

Sundays were sort of a free day.Free to do anything in the shop on his own vehicles.Sometimes he and the guys were out in the field, especially during planting and harvest, but it was still July.

She texted him that she’d pick him up at eleven.

He calculated how early she’d have to wake up to get to his place by eleven.Not terribly early, but it’d be a full day of driving for her.

A red Mustang turned into his yard and his heart rate kicked up.He slid off the tailgate.

Cash had bugged him about going to the bar last night, but Brock’s thoughts were stuck on her kiss.All he wanted to do was relive the minute she’d been in his arms.

So that’s what he’d done and Cash had been pissed, had demanded to know if it was because of her, but Brock hadn’t answered.And since his cousins were used to him not answering, Cash had hung up.

Brock didn’t wait for her to get out, but grabbed his cooler and went to the passenger side.

When he crawled in, he was hit with his favorite smell—car freshener vanilla.A yellow tree-shaped air freshener hung off the gearshift, where he usually put his.

“Morning.”She gazed at him from behind her saucer-sized sunglasses.

She fit her ride, in red shorts and a white tank top.Her curvy legs and soft skin on display.

It’s not polite to stare.Staring hadn’t been Brock’s issue, but it might be today.

“Morning,” he replied as he dug into his cooler.

She cruised through his property and they were back on the road.

“Whatcha got?”

He pulled out some napkins.“Sandwiches.But I cut them small so you can eat easily while driving.Leave them in the baggie, though, and it’ll minimize crumbs.Grapes and baby carrots—those are homegrown.Easy to eat while driving, too.And don’t make a mess.And four water bottles, two with lemonade and two with water.”

She glanced at him, her brows lifted, then switched her attention to the items he held.Gazing back out to the road, she said, “I’m starving.Thank you.”

He found places for their drinks.“I mean, if you don’t eat in your vehicle, we can stop somewhere.There’s no good stopping places between here and Detroit Lakes, though.”

“No, I eat in here.”She pointed to the backseat where a fast food bag sat crumpled on the floor.“I haven’t stopped yet to throw it out.I don’t want to be late.”

“Exactly.Mr.Blackwell is serious about that.”

“Thank you.For the food…it was really thoughtful.”

Someone says thank you, respond with “you’re welcome.”

“You’re welcome.”His mom had always packed for their many trips to Fargo.She’d wanted to hide the reason for their trips and keep costs down so she had packed anything and everything they’d need.Even gassed up in Fargo instead of Moore.Afraid people would be too nosey.

She shook her head.“No, seriously.Like…I didn’t know people even did that.”

“Saves money.I made this for less than five dollars but a fast food meal for both of us would cost at least fifteen.”

Her lips quirked.“Saving money.A man after my own heart.”

His brows crinkled at the Southern lilt she’d put on her words.

When she seemed to notice he was confused, she elaborated, “My family—my dad—isn’t the best with money.He’d buy himself a meal and then bring some back for the whole garage, which is great once in a while.Hell, once a month, but he does it damn near every day.”

She shook her head and it was obvious to him, for once, how frustrated she was.

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