He has already ducked back under the hood. “You’d never know it by the way Nancy talks about you.”
I reach in and pull my purse from the passenger seat of the car and slam the driver’s side door, giving myself a moment to collect my thoughts. “What else has she told the fine folks of Cardon Springs about me?” I step forward, peeking under the hood, taking the chance to view the way his dark hair is cut short, clipped close to his head, revealing the smooth muscles of his neck at the base of his skull.
He doesn’t look up from the engine he’s inspecting—or at least I think it’s the engine—but I hear a scoff erupt from his throat. “That you’re overqualified for the job you got at the Chronicle with your degree in journalism, but that she’s pretty much busting at the seams with excitement at having you live with her. Oh...” He glances up, slamming the hood down, his cocky grin still in place. “And that you need a new car.”
I know he’s trying to be funny, but the falsity of his first comment and the truth of his last one hits home just a bit too much. I do my best to keep a lighthearted expression on my face, but my smile must falter because I see the flash of apology in his eyes.
“That’s where you come in, Mr. Mechanic,” I chuckle, trying to laugh it off. “You can fix this one, right?”
His gaze lowers to the car before him, then up to meet mine again. “Let me see what I can do, Megan.”
“Sounds promising enough,” I tell him. “Were you serious about giving me a ride to Aunt Nancy’s place?”
“Nah.” He waves a dismissive hand. “I was going to make you walk.” His lips are pressed tightly together to suppress a full-fledged grin, one I know would be sexy as hell if he let it come out. But he doesn’t, instead pointing toward the red pickup truck parked behind my car on the side of the road. “Get in. We don’t want to keep Nancy waiting any longer to see you.”
As much as I want to see my aunt, and as much as I have been waiting impatiently for that moment when she gives me a warm hug and makes me feel like everything is going to be okay—because that’s what she always does, and that’s what she does best—it occurs to me that I’m a bit disappointed. Every minute closer to being dropped off at Aunt Nancy’s house is one minute closer to not having Craig and his intense eyes and crooked smile in my line of vision.
“Oh, by the way,” Craig calls out as he heads toward the passenger side of his truck, motioning for me to follow as he opens the door. “Welcome to Cardon Springs, Megan.”
Chapter Two
Craig
In a town like Cardon Springs, it’s hard not to know absolutely everyone who lives here. And seeing as I not only grew up here but also returned after I left college, I know pretty much everything about everyone who was here before I left, and have heard pretty much everything about the ones who have come to reside here after me as well.
Owning my own business in town helps with keeping tabs on everyone, too. It’s funny how being the one people turn to when they need on oil change on their car or the engine is making a funny noise—I actually get a kick out of the way some customers describe such noises—also makes people want to tell me all the small town gossip while they’re waiting for their vehicle to be ready or using the credit card machine to pay their bill.
The older people in town tend to still see me as the kid who grew up trick-or-treating at their front doors and riding up and down the streets on my ten-speed bike despite the fact I own my own
house, my own repair shop, and have a kid of my own.
But Nancy Clayton has never been like that. She’s known me my whole life, just like everyone else, but she’s always treated me with the utmost respect since I came back to Cardon Springs. She sees me as the man I’ve struggled to become, the one who works damn hard to provide a good, solid life for my boy.
Which is exactly why I’ve been doing favors for Nancy for years, especially since I returned to town, as well as giving her discounts here and there on her car repairs and maintenance. The woman’s practically a saint, and I can’t help but feel bad for her since her husband, Doug, passed away. She’s alone in that big old house.
Until now. I wasn’t lying to Megan when I said her aunt gushes over her and talks about her all the time. The part I didn’t tell her was that Nancy has been hinting for months that she should acquaint me with her beloved niece, that we’d be such a cute couple.
Her words, not mine. Also, not anything I’m interested in. There isn’t enough room in my life for anyone but Ellis, and that’s how I prefer it.
That doesn’t stop Nancy from dropping hints and reminding me about her niece every time I see her in town. The woman’s got a routine; first she asks how Ellis is doing, then she swoops in and mentions how the two of us need a good woman in our lives.
While I agree that my son deserves a mother figure, I won’t be rushing into anything in order to try to provide him with that. In fact, I tend to hurry off in the opposite direction when it comes to women now, not toward them.
Funny how someone prefers to avoid relationships after the love of his life breaks up with him and doesn’t tell him about his unborn son until she’s on her deathbed and forced to tell him. I don’t want to be a bitter man, but I still get a bad taste in my mouth when I think about why she would do that to me. Why she would do that to her own son.
I shake my head to rid myself of the thoughts that plague me. I can’t think about those things right now, not when Nancy’s niece is perched in the passenger seat of my truck and I’m just turning onto her aunt’s street.
Nancy was right—Megan is beautiful. She’s also wearing her apprehension about being here on her face like makeup. It’s obvious she’s not sure what to think about moving to this town. Or maybe she’s just not sure what to think about me.
One thing I do know for sure is I was a lot subtler about checking her out than she was as she let her eyes roam.
I find it amusing, though. The women around town are either only interested in me because they think I have money—owning a business gives that illusion, although they don’t seem to realize that the bank still owns the repair shop until I pay the loan off, which won’t be until I’m about ninety years old—or they won’t come near me with a ten-foot pole, like being a single dad is something contagious.
It makes me wonder which of those two kinds of women Megan is.
Seeing Nancy standing in the front window of her house as I pull my truck into the driveway puts a stop to any further contemplation. The wide smile on her face, however, creates a whole new set of thoughts, mostly concerning just how far the woman is about to take this matchmaking bug she’s been bitten by.
“Meg!” she squeals, hobbling out onto the front porch before I even have a chance to get out of the truck. Megan barrels out of the passenger side, running toward her aunt and enveloping her in a tight hug.