Jardin's Gamble (Haven, Texas 9)

“Uh, yeah?”

“Were you calling about my car?”

“Yeah, actually. It’s all ready to go.”

“Wow, that was quick!”

Yeah, well, he might have spent most of the day working on it for her to get it ready before the weekend. “Got a new head gasket and new disc brakes.” Along with four new tires and a complete service. But he was hoping she wouldn’t notice the tires since he guessed they were a cost she couldn’t afford to bear. He’d driven her car through a few puddles today in order to muddy them up a bit.

“Oh, thank you. How much do I owe you?”

“We can chat about it over dinner. If you’d still like to go out?” He knew he’d kind of coerced her into it. But he’d never force her. If she wasn’t interested in him there wasn’t any point. He wasn’t the type to mess around.

“I’d love to,” she replied, sounding almost shy. “If you’re sure that’s what you want.”

“I do.” Listen to the two of them. He needed to find that confidence he’d once had. “How about tomorrow night? I can pick you up around seven?”

“Oh, uh, would it be okay if I met you at your garage? Then I could get my car?”

“All right. That would work.” Again, he got that she’d rather he didn’t know where she lived. She didn’t know she was safe with him. Likely safer with him than anyone else since he never intended to allow anyone to harm her.

He rattled off the address for the garage. “Meet you there just before six? I’ll make reservations for six-thirty.”

“That’s perfect. See you then.”

The call ended far earlier than he would have liked. But at least he now had something to look forward to.

A date with Thea. He could tell this was going to be the start of something special.

Thea was rethinking her shoes.

She was wearing the same one’s she’d worn on Monday when her car had broken down. She was starting to think they were some sort of bad luck.

“They’re not bad luck,

Thea. Just damn uncomfortable.”

Somehow, she’d managed to get off at the wrong bus stop and, instead of having to walk one block in these things, she’d ended up walking six. Her feet hurt. She was running late. She’d had to wear another high-necked, long-sleeved top in order to cover up her fading bruises, so she was also hot.

All she wanted was to sit down and drink a cold beer with a fan blowing on her.

Finally, she limped up to the address she’d been given. She raised her eyebrows as she stared up at the sign above the tidy-looking building.

Jim-Bob’s Garage.

Hmm. Carrick hadn’t actually told her the name of the garage, just the address. Since his name wasn’t Jim-Bob—

The large, retractable door went up and there was Carrick. He was even bigger than she remembered. Today he was wearing black jeans and surprise, surprise, a black shirt with the sleeves rolled up to show off his tats.

Yum.

“Hi, Thea.” He gave her a smile, which dropped as she limped toward him. “You’ve hurt yourself? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing that burning these damn shoes wouldn’t fix,” she told him with a smile. “Sorry I’m late. I got off at the wrong stop and ended up walking a few more blocks than I’d expected. And these shoes were not made for walking. These shoes were made to torture people. It’s probably why they only cost a buck fifty.”

His eyes widened. “Now, I don’t know much about fashion but a dollar fifty seems cheap.”

You idiot. Do you really want him knowing you shop from thrift stores?