Page 2 of Reluctantly Married

Adam let out a chuckle, the corners of his eyes crinkling, and his insufferably cute dimples showing.

“It’s not funny. This pamphlet says that it affects seventy-three percent of the male population.”

His smile faded. “Just admit your car won’t start and you need some help.”

She exhaled in exasperation and chucked the pamphlet back onto the seat. “All right. It won’t start. But I don’t need any help, I already know what the problem is.”

“And what’s that?”

“I need a new car.”

His laugh spread over her like warm butter, making her insides melt. He opened her door. “Let’s take a look.” He reached down and popped her hood, then strode to the front of her car. “Now, try again.”

Same thing, the car cranked but didn’t start. Adam frowned. “It could be your fuel pump or maybe the spark plugs.”

She sighed. “Great.”

“Shouldn’t be too hard to fix. I’ve got some errands to run, but I can stop by later with my tools.” He shut the hood and rubbed his hands together.

“Wait, what? You’re going to fix it for me?” Since when was he Mr. Knight-in-Shining-Armor?

He shrugged. “Won’t be difficult.”

She narrowed her eyes. What did he want from her? Why was he suddenly being so nice? She didn’t want to owe him anything. “You don’t have to.”

He cocked his head at her, the slight smile on his face growing sexy. “I know.” The spring breeze picked up, and the scent of his cologne filled her car. She had to admit he smelled good. His smile grew as he reached out his hand to her. “Come on. I’ll give you a ride home. I promise not to bite.”

She waited for the obvious “…at least not too hard,” but it never came.

“Fine.” After grabbing her purse and slamming the door, she crossed the parking lot toward his flashy black convertible. She couldn’t imagine what he’d spent on it. Who would even own a car like that? Men who didn’t care about settling down and having a family, that’s who. Men like Adam, who saw women as nothing more than conquests.

He opened her door for her, and she bristled. Yes, he definitely wanted something from her. Whatever it was, he wasn’t going to get it. She plopped down in the seat and quickly shut the door.

Adam slid onto the driver’s seat and started the engine. “Do you mind if we stop by my place? I need to check on a raccoon.”

There it was. Some weird excuse to take her to his house. Of course, she should have known what he was trying to do. She wasn’t going to fall for it. “Check on a raccoon? Really? That’s the best you could come up with?” She folded her arms across her chest. “I don’t want to check your raccoon, whatever that means. Couldn’t you just do something nice for once, without ruining it with your sick innuendos?”

He squinted at her. “What are you talking about?”

The genuine confusion on his face gave her pause. Maybe she’d misunderstood. “What areyoutalking about?”

“I volunteer at the Nebraska Wildlife Rehab. A young raccoon was injured in an animal trap. I’m nursing it back to health.” He looked at her like she’d sprouted horns.

Heat crept up her neck again. “Oh.”

He lifted one eyebrow and fought back a smile. “What exactly did you think I meant?”

A full-body blush enveloped her, and she avoided his gaze. “Nothing. I mean, I don’t know.”

“Okay,” he said, the grin taking over his face. A low chuckle came from deep in his chest. He pulled out onto the street. “It won’t take long. I just need to check the bandage and make sure he’s got enough water. You can wait in the car if you’d like.”

Embarrassment made her squirm. Maybe she’d pegged him all wrong. Jumped to the wrong conclusions. He didn’t seem to be the jerk she’d imagined him to be. He saved baby animals, for Pete’s sake. How could she hate that? She swallowed and stared at her hands. “Would you mind if I came in to see him?”

He glanced at her, appraising her. “Not at all.”

They rode in silence until they had to slow down for the small downtown district of Sugar Springs. The cool breeze carried the light scent of lilacs and fresh rain. Megan repressed the urge to remove her clip and let her hair down.

Ten minutes later, they pulled up to Adam’s house. The small farmhouse stood nestled between two large oak trees. The white paint had seen better days, curling and peeling up from the wooden siding where the sun peeked through the shade. The front porch railing hung in disrepair. A detached garage stood a few feet from the house, but he parked in the sun. He got out of the car and ran to her side to open her door. “He’s in back.”

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