I stood, shaking my head. “It’s worse, all right. You’ve damaged the rim. You’ll probably need an entire new one.”
She frowned, pulling in her bottom lip in vexation. “Damn,” she whispered.
“You should have pulled over right away. Called CAA. You never drive on a flat. You’re risking yourself and other drivers,” I scolded her.
“Thanks for the public service announcement. I’ve learned my lesson. You can go now.” She turned her back, beginning to move things around in the back again.
I blinked at her dismissal.
“I’ll change your tire.”
“I said I was fine, whoever you are. I’ve got this.” With a grunt, she lifted out the other part of the jack, inspecting it. I watched as she studied the two pieces, trying to figure out how they went together. She huffed and reached back into the hatch, pulling out the owner’s manual, flipping the pages, squinting at the small print. She was obviously independent. It made her even more appealing to me somehow.
“I can have that done before you even find the right page number,” I offered, amused by her stubbornness.
“Oh, you’re still here? I thought there was a gnat flying around my head,” she muttered, otherwise ignoring me.
I tried not to laugh, but a small chuckle escaped my lips, nevertheless. Reaching around her, I picked up the jack and stepped away. I was shocked when she turned and grabbed it.
“I said no.”
I tried not to notice how close we were. Our chests were almost touching. I felt her breath on my face before she stepped back, but I noticed how her breathing had picked up, matching mine.
I studied her, then glanced at the waning light. “It will be dark in twenty minutes or so. You won’t have even figured this out. I’ll have the tire changed and you back on the road in ten.”
She pursed her lips. “Some sort of expert, are you?”
I smirked. “You could say that.”
“I can do this myself.”
“Really? Do you know how to get the spare out?”
She glanced at the trunk. “Um, lift it?”
I shook my head. “Nope. You have to unscrew it. It drops down underneath, and you have to pull it out. Which means you need to get on your knees in the dirt and gravel to do so.” I let my gaze wander down to her rounded knees. Her pale, unblemished knees that would be cut and bleeding by the time she was done.
I couldn’t allow that to happen. I also had to ignore the image of her on her knees for another reason.
Where the hell had that thought come from?
“Damn,” she breathed again.
“Ten minutes,” I repeated, tugging on the jack.
She sighed. “Fine, Mr. Expert.”
I winked. “Watch me and learn.”
It took me a little longer. The spare was stuck, but I had WD-40 in my trunk, and after a few squirts, it was free. Her jack was cheap and useless, so I grabbed mine to use. I had to use the lubricant again on the lug nuts, then things went quickly. I installed the donut, placed the badly damaged tire in the back with the useless jack, and shut it. She watched me the whole time, her eyes wide, mumbling under her breath, the words too low for me to hear. When I was done, I stood, wiping my hands off on my jeans. I turned, catching her wide-eyed stare. Knowing she had been watching me and liking what she saw made me grin. I liked that being caught caused color to soak into her cheeks. It only made her sexier.
I threw her a wink, went to my car to grab a business card, then handed it to her.
“This is a great service station. They won’t rip you off.”
She squinted at it in the growing darkness. “Reynolds & Co. Restorations and Repairs.”
I pointed in the direction I had traveled in. “About ten minutes down this road.”
“I usually go to Mr. Lube or Pennzoil. Whoever has a deal on oil changes.”
I tried not to shudder. “I promise you, this place is the best. Reasonable and, as I said, they won’t rip you off. Easy terms if you need it,” I explained.
Her shoulders straightened and her eyes flashed. “I never said I needed help.”
“Of course not. Simply letting you know.”
She held up the card. “Friend of yours?”
“You could say that.”
She sighed and ran a hand through her hair, grimacing when her fingers hit the knot at the top, as if she’d forgotten it was up. “What do I owe you?”
I wanted to ask her for her number, but I had a feeling the answer would be a resounding no.
“Nothing.”
“I have to give you something.”
“Nope. Glad I was coming along and could help.”
She frowned. “I don’t like being beholden to anyone.”
I tilted my head and met her eyes. Once again, the fire in them lit me up. Hidden in the dark gaze was desire—desire she was directing at me. Desire I returned fully.