The presence of Willow blocks out that dark tunnel in my brain and gives me a way toward the light and out of my hole.
I open the back door when I get back to the truck, toss my mud-covered boots in the backseat, grab my tennis shoes from the floorboard, and slide into the driver’s side.
My attention shoots straight to Willow. She’s still in her wet clothes and slipping her fingers through the strands of her dripping hair. She sighs, grabs her purse, and digs through it until she scores a hair tie.
I gulp as she lifts her hair up, exposing her long, sleek neck.
Fuck, she’s breathtaking.
“You good?” I finally ask.
She bashfully runs a hand along her pale cheek. “Sorry about that. Minor freak-outs tend to be my thing during stressful situations.”
Her answer is a shot of relief. Relief of not scaring her away. Relief she’s not broaching the conversation she started outside.
“Don’t worry about it. Tow truck will be here in ten to fifteen minutes.”
“They’ll take us back to Blue Beech or fix the flat?”
“Depends. If he can change it in the rain, he will. If not, he’ll take us to the closest repair shop. Flats typically are a quick fix.”
Minutes of silence pass through the cab until Willow says something. “We missed you when you left, you know.” She snorts, and I’m unsure of where she’s going with this conversation. “The temps they sent when you left were terrible, and Hudson was a total asshole for the first month.”
I perk up in my seat. She’s talking about when I quit working for Stella. I didn’t give much notice. I left a day after Lucy told me the diagnosis.
“He was mending a broken heart,” I say, sticking up for my brother.
“Hmm, so is that what happens when men are mending a broken heart? It justifies them acting like assholes?” Her face is playful, but her tone isn’t. It’s built up in hurt, betrayal, and also confusion.
Fuck. Where is this tow truck? I should’ve offered more money to get it here sooner.
“You trying to insinuate something?” I brace myself for the impact she’s about to give me.
“Damn straight I am.”
I swallow down my guilt. “Care to elaborate?”
“People get their hearts broken. People lose people. No offense, but it happens every day. Every minute. That’s no excuse to act like a dick. You were a dick to me. Hell, all men are dicks if you’re not letting them give you theirs. That’s when they’re nice and comforting.”
“I’ll apologize again for my dickdom. Hurt people don’t always intend to hurt other people. That’s not my intention. Trust me, I’d never want anyone to go through the hell I’m going through.”
Her attention moves to the back window as headlights pull up behind us. Perfect timing to end this conversation. Intimate conversations with Willow are high risk for me. I’m a man of few words, and it seems I always choose the worst ones with her.
I grip the door handle. “Don’t get out of this truck, headlight-chaser.”
I meet the man in the middle of our trucks. He’s sporting a parka and black boots.
“Nice day out here, huh?” he asks, thrusting his hand my way.
“For a duck,” I mutter back, shaking his hand.
“It’s about to get worse for ya.”
Of course. The day goes more to shit.
Instead of asking why, I wait for him to elaborate.
“I can’t work in this weather,” he says. “It’s dangerous, and they’re talking about possible tornados.” He whistles. “Half of the town’s power is out due to the storm. Our mechanic went home to his family ’cause of it, but I’ll ask him to come in first thing in the morning to fix this.”
“Fuck. You’ve got to be kidding me.”
He takes a step closer while chewing on a toothpick. “Wish I were. If it helps, I can give you a ride to the motel a few blocks down from the shop.”
I slap him on the shoulder. “Appreciate it.” I nod toward his truck. “You happen to have an umbrella in there?”
“Sure do.”
“Thanks, man.”
I jump back into my truck with the umbrella in my hand, ready to hear Willow rip my head off when I tell her we’ll be having a sleepover tonight. I open my mouth when reality cuts through me. How am I going to handle a sleepover? I grind my teeth. This is a small town. They’ll no doubt have more than one room available. I jumped the gun with the thought that we’d be sharing.
She’s relaxed in the leather seat with her bare feet resting on the dashboard. I can’t stop myself from giving her a once-over. Her soaking T-shirt has been replaced with a rose-colored lace tank top that showcases her cleavage. Her breasts are small, but that doesn’t mean they don’t excite my dick. They fit perfectly in my hands that night.
“Everything okay?” she asks.
I jerk my chin up, my throat tight. “He’s giving us a ride into town.”
“Perfect. How long will it take them to fix it?”
“Till tomorrow.”
Her legs drop from the dashboard faster than Maven comes running when I mention ice cream. “What?” she shrieks. “Where are we supposed to sleep?”
“There’s a motel a few blocks down from the repair shop.”
“Can’t we take an Uber back home and then pick it up in the morning?”
I smirk. “Ubers don’t go to Blue Beech, babe.”
“Sorry, but we only have one room available.”
Go fucking figure.
Stranded. Check.
Having to share a room. Check.
What else can happen that’s not going to make Willow wish she’d never stepped foot into my truck?
“We’re always booked up on auction days. It’s even worse today,” the woman with steel-gray hair says in a hoarse, cracked voice while shaking her head at us like we’re in the principal’s office. “People don’t want to travel in this mess. Here’s a piece of advice for next time: book in advance.”
“Thanks for the tip.” I don’t give two shits about her advice. She’s our last resort. “We’ll take it.”
I grunt when Willow edges into my side to push herself in front of me. She faces the woman with a Harriet name tag.
“That’s a room with two beds, right?” she asks.
“Sorry, honey. All we have is one queen.” Harriet releases a bland smile. “Again, book in advance next time.”
Sharing a bed. Fucking check.
Willow shoots me an innocent smile. “This will be interesting.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Willow
If Dallas believes I’m calm, I’ll be asking Stella for a job tomorrow because I deserve an Emmy.
I’m doing everything in my power not to freak out right now.
We’ve shared a bed before.
Granted, we fucked each other, but no alcohol will be present tonight. We’ll keep our hands to ourselves and build a pillow wall to separate us, and everything will be okay.
No touching. No sex. Fingers crossed he won’t freak out tomorrow morning and leave me stranded.