Page 9 of Make Me Trust Again
Seriously? Get your freaking head out of the gutter, Williams.
“My tire burst as I was driving home. I just called the mechanic, but they told me there was an accident, and it’ll be a while before the tow truck can come here. So I’m waiting for them to come and get me.”
My brows pull together as the image of her swerving on the road, trying to regain control of her truck and not crash, pops into my mind, but then the rest of her sentence registers.
“Mechanic?” Why would she need to wait for a fucking mechanic? “What about your husband?”
Who the hell leaves their woman to fend for herself in a situation like this? He should get his ass from wherever he is and fix this, not make her wait God only knows how long, on the side of the road for a freaking mechanic.
My gaze is glued to those full lips, waiting for her response, so I don’t miss how they press together in a tight line. Slowly, I lift my gaze. Those blue eyes are hard, something dark shining in them for a second before she blinks it away.
“Ex-husband.”
Although they’re spoken softly, so softly I probably wouldn’t hear them if I wasn’t paying attention, there is no mistaking the anger on her face.
The hard set of her shoulders.
The way her fingers curl into fists by her side.
Her jaw clenches, and I swear I can see something glisten in her eyes, but she quickly shakes her head and forces her body to relax.
“It’s fine. I’ll just find a tutorial online?—”
She turns her back to me, effectively dismissing me. My brows pull together as I tilt my head to the side so I can hear her better, but her voice is just a distant buzz in my ears.
“… myself… can’t… hard…”
The frown between my brows becomes deeper as I watch her. She looks at the truck, completely lost. But that only lasts for a moment because in the next heartbeat, she sucks in a deep breath, as if she’s bracing herself for the inevitable.
Shadow nudges me with her snout.
Cursing under my breath, I move on instinct, not giving myself time to question my sanity. I slip past her, making sure our bodies don’t touch as I pop open her trunk and find a spare inside.Thank fuck.
I pull it out, making sure it’s good to go, before grabbing a jack and lug wrench. Tools in hand, I make my way to the front of the truck to inspect the damage. I get down, biting back a groan as pain shoots up my leg and into my spine.
Placing the jack in place, I get to work. I’m just loosening the lug nuts when a shadow falls over me.
Slowly, I lift my gaze, which was a bad idea.
Avery badidea.
Rose is standing above me, those silky-smooth legs barely a few inches away from me. Her heels make her legs seem to go on for miles. Or maybe it’s this position. Her skirt falls all the way to her knees—thank fuck—the material shielding what’s hiding beneath it from my view.
When I finally meet her gaze, I find a fire blazing in her irises.
She crosses her arms over her chest. “What do you think you’re doing, Chase?”
There is this mix of defiance and uncertainty as she tilts her chin up, but she’s not willing to give in without a fight.
“Changing your tire.” I force the words out.
“I said I’d do it.”
I just quirk my brow in a silent question.
“What? I can do it.”
I huff out. “Have you ever changed a tire?”
