Muffled laughter came from the back of the Jeep, and Dylan peered inside to see two young boys in the back seat, falling against each other in amusement. They shared their mother’s black hair and startling blue eyes. Dylan almost tripped over himself in his hurry to step away from the Jeep.
Jesus, she was married! Even if she wasn’t, she had kids.
Dylan was a firm believer in rules, and rule number one was steer clear of married women. The second rule was steer clear of women with kids. There was a reason he was still single at the ripe old age of thirty—he had no desire to be tied down. Not now. Maybe not ever. He had too many adventures left on his bucket list to be shackled to a wife and kids.
“Slide over,” he said now, reluctantly discarding any thoughts of seduction. “I’ll get you out of here.”
The woman’s expression turned to one of amusement. “What? You think you can do a better job of driving than I can?”
Dylan leaned across the passenger seat, and smiled. “Sweetheart, I know I can. Move over.”
He watched as her skin flushed pink and her eyes widened. Then she looked past him to where a dozen or more people stood on the sidewalk watching in amusement. Behind her, cars were stacking up along Main Street. Nobody was blowing their horn, but it was only a matter of time before their patience wore thin.
“Fine,” she muttered, and lifted herself across the center console to the passenger seat. She was so close he could see the fine blue vein at her temple, throbbing now with suppressed emotion. “She’s all yours.”
Rounding the front of the Jeep, he climbed behind the wheel and adjusted the seat for his longer legs. He turned to look at the boys. “Having fun, guys?”
“Yes!” the older one said, bouncing on the seat. “This is awesome!”
“Are we going to crash into that car?” This from the smaller boy, who peered out the window with an anxious expression.
“Another dent in that thing might be an improvement,” the woman observed. She narrowed her gaze on Dylan. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing? Because if that’s your vehicle, you obviously have no idea how to drive.”
The ancient Range Rover had seen better days, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t still his baby. “Those marks are called experience,” he said, focusing his attention on the side mirrors. “Something you obviously don’t have, or you wouldn’t be in this tight spot.”
She gave a small huff of mock outrage, but her eyes were smiling. “When’s the last time you had your vision checked? I’ve had this Jeep for over a year, and there’s not a mark on it. That’s the sign of an experienced driver.”
“I guess it’s all in how you look at it,” he said, carefully turning the wheel.
“Speaking of which…” She glanced uncertainly into her side mirror at how close the trailer was to the vehicles parked along the curb. “Maybe I should get out and guide you.”
“Nope, I’ve got this,” Dylan assured her.
“Pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you?”
Dylan flashed her a grin. “Yep.”
She’d left him very little room in which to maneuver the Jeep and the trailer, and it took more than a few minutes to carefully inch his way clear, but soon he was driving forward with the trailer pulling straight behind him. A cheer went up from the spectators on the sidewalk, and Dylan barely suppressed an urge to give the woman a triumphant grin. Instead, he drove to a spot several blocks up, at the end of the greenway, and pulled the vehicle over before killing the engine.
“You should be all set from here,” he said, turning in his seat to face her.
Up close, she was even prettier than he’d realized, and he knew a sense of bitter disappointment that she was off-limits. Didn’t it just figure?
“Thanks, I appreciate the help.” She glanced back down the road to where his Range Rover was now several blocks away. “Sorry you have such a long walk back to your car.”
Dylan arched an eyebrow, unable to resist teasing her, just a little. “Do I look like I’m out of shape?”
Her eyes swept over him, and for just an instant Dylan saw awareness and something else flicker in their depths. Appreciation? His entire body tightened under that swift, cerulean scrutiny.
“No,” she reluctantly admitted, and another flush of color crawled up her neck. She reached for the door handle. “Well, thanks again. I can take it from here.”
Dylan found himself reluctant to leave, despite the warning bells jangling in his head. “Where are you headed?”