Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 101524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 508(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 508(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
With a deep breath, I drop my eyes to my phone and unlock it, then stare at the screen with my fingers hovering over my contact list. If I call my dad, I know he will drop whatever he’s doing and come to my rescue, the same way I know that if I call Talon or Bax, the same will happen. I also know the three of them are busy. It’s a weekday, not a weekend, and if I interrupt whatever they are doing now at work, they will have to go back to it when they are done taking care of my problem. And they will likely have to stay later this evening to make up for the time they missed, and that will cut into time with their families.
As I’m debating what I’m going to do, the sound of a motorcycle meets my ears, and I lift my eyes off my phone. My brothers, my dad, my cousins, and a few of my cousins’ husbands ride, so I’m always on the lookout for them when I hear the familiar sound. As the sound gets louder, and the rider of the motorcycle comes into view, my heart drops into my stomach the same way it did when I called the number Bax gave me for his friend Lo and was met with the reality that it was Logan Rafe.
Frozen in place. I watch a matte black motorcycle get closer while the driver’s gaze locks on mine. Slowing down, Logan pulls off the road in front of me. The black t-shirt he has on allowing a glimpse at the tattoos covering one of his arms and stretched across his broad shoulders. The material is so tight against his torso, it gives a glimpse at the muscles underneath, with his legs encased in a pair of jeans that look worn and soft. Shutting off his bike, he uses the heel of his boot to engage the kickstand before he swings his leg over the seat.
My heart is beating so hard that I can hear the steady thump of it in my ears as he turns to face me with a grin on his gorgeous face.
“If you wanted my attention, baby, you could have just messaged me back.” He removes his helmet.
“Yeah, I purposely broke down in this location on the off chance you’d drive by and see me.” I roll my eyes.
“It’s a little dramatic, but I like the effort.” He closes the distance between us, and it’s difficult not to laugh. He’s too hot for his own good and way too cocky—two traits I’ve encountered in a few men over the years. Though most of those men were either hot with zero personality or cocky with zero reason to be, but convinced that they were god’s gift to women. “What happened?”
“I don’t know, unfortunately I’m not a mechanic.” I watch him walk to the hood with his lips tipped up and lean in to get a better look at the engine. “It just started smoking.” I keep my distance, but with the light breeze in the air, the smell of whatever cologne or soap he uses drifts my direction, wrapping around my windpipe.
“Looks like the head gasket is blown.”
“Is that bad?” He turns his head my way and his blue eyes locking on mine.
“Yeah, it’s going to take a few days to get it repaired.”
“Crap.” My shoulders slump.
“Grab your purse, I’ll give you a ride and have someone come out and tow it to the shop.”
“That’s okay, I can call triple A.”
“Babe, it’s gonna be a few hours before a tow truck can get over here. Save yourself the hassle and accept my help.”
I think about insisting that I’ll wait, but with Zuri getting out of school in just a few hours, I don’t have the time to argue with him, and I really do need his help. I can walk to the school to pick her up today, and we can walk to school tomorrow morning, but I’m going to have to figure out where to rent a car, because there is no way we can go without a vehicle for a few days. Where we live now isn’t like where I lived in Colorado. Back there, I could walk to the store and out to dinner, which I did a lot. Here, that isn’t even an option. The closest grocery store is eight miles away, and we don’t have public transportation to get us around until my car is fixed.
“Okay,” I agree reluctantly. “Thank you.”
“While you get your bag, I’m gonna run and tell Ruthie that your car will be picked up in just a few.” He closes down the hood.
“Ruthie?”
“She owns the garden center.”
“Right,” I mumble. “Thanks.”
“Grab your stuff,” he tells me before he walks down a dirt road, disappearing amongst the greenery and flowers. I grab my purse, along with a few other things from my car, and by the time I’m done, he’s walking back to meet me. “Ready?”