Page 8 of Make Me Trust Again
My eyes narrow as I notice the weird angle the truck is in, my foot lifting off the gas. My truck slows down, and I spot the woman standing beside it; her back is to me, but I can see the phone in her hand.
Maybe she got help, and I don’t need to stop?
I’m not in the mood to deal with people. And I sure as hell am not in the mood to play anybody’s savior.
As if somebody could ever think of you as a savior, the little voice at the back of my head taunts.
My fingers tighten around the steering wheel, my knuckles losing all color as flashes from the past pop in my mind, but I shove them back.
No, I was definitely nobody’s savior.
The hand holding the phone falls, her fingers tightening around the device. She runs the fingers of her free hand through her hair as she stares at the truck.
Shadow whines.
I curse under my breath and pull behind the white truck, pushing the door open. “Stay here.”
She must have heard the engine because the woman turned around.
The recognition sets in as a pair of doe-like, crystal blue eyes zero in on me, and it’s like I’ve been sucker punched.
Rose Hathaway.
Her rich brown hair shines brightly under the sunlight and falls in waves around her shoulders. The flowery sundress she’s wearing molds to her body like it’s made for her, accentuating her curves, and the high heels give her a few extra inches, tiny straps wrapping around her ankles.
Those pink lips part slightly. She lifts her hand, shielding her eyes from the sun, and by extension, my view.
From the corner of my eye, I see a black shadow jump from the truck.
Rose notices it, too, because she yelps and stumbles back.
“Shadow,” I call out, annoyed at the dog’s disobedience.
The German Shepard turns around and comes to me, but I don’t miss the judging gaze she shoots my way.
I might hate people, but my freaking dog loves them. When she was working, she had to question everything. Now that she’sofficially retired, she’s using every chance to be social she can. Not that there are many, since I rarely leave my house.
Rose’s soft chuckle registers in my mind, so I lift my gaze, zeroing in on her mouth. “He scared me.”
She tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear, her chest heaving as she tries to catch her breath and regain some composure, but the only thing it does is make her tits press against the tight material of her dress.
Focus, Williams.
I shouldn’t be looking at her like that. Not only was she my sister’s childhood best friend, but she’s also married.
Like you have any business checking anybody out,the voice snickers.
I fucking know that.
Did I fucking know that.
“It’s a she,” I correct, and tilt my head to her truck. It was time to get my mind back on track, figure out if she needed my help, and get the hell out. “What happened?”
Those pink lips part at my sharp tone, her long lashes fluttering slightly at the sudden change of topic. I watch as the light shines over them, making them shimmer.
“I…” She clears her throat. “Sorry.”
I blink, noticing the slight flush to her cheeks.
