I was hanging the second sheet when I heard a car engine coming up the mountain.
Shit.
I hadn’t thought to bring my gun outside, and I was about to run in and get it when I caught sight of the faded red tow truck.
Wyatt.
He parked in front of the house, bold as could be, and got out of his truck and headed straight for me.
“You’re playin’ with fire,” I said.
He stopped in front of me and grinned, his eyes lighting up with mischief. “I’ll take my chances.”
“What brings you up the mountain?” I asked.
He studied my face, still smiling. “You.”
Flutters rippled through my stomach. Turned out a man wanting to defend my honor did funny things to my hormones. But I had to be honest with myself—this went way beyond hormones. I admired the way his strength was tempered by gentleness. The devotion with which he’d thrown himself into mentoring a teenage boy in need of guidance. And I couldn’t help but respond to the way he cared for all of the people around him, from Seth to Hank to me.
Wyatt Drummond was a man I could deeply care for, and it scared the crap out of me. I lowered my gaze, suddenly unable to look him in the eye.
Sensing my change in demeanor, his tone softened. “Did you change Hank’s dressing?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m sorry you had to do it alone.” He glanced up at the house. “He doin’ okay?”
“I wasn’t as gentle or as quick as the nurse,” I said. “He’s resting.”
“I’m sure you did fine,” he said softly. Then he lifted my chin so that I was looking into his warm eyes.
An electrical current ran from his hand down to my core, and my mouth parted slightly as I gasped in surprise.
His gaze dropped to my mouth, and he asked in a husky tone, “Did you have any trouble after I left?”
His hand gently cradled my jaw, sending another flutter through my insides.
“No” was all I could seem to get out. Wyatt Drummond was doing strange things to my mental capacity, and all I could think about was whether I’d let him kiss me if he closed the short distance from his mouth to mine.
I took a slow step back, and his hand dropped to his side. I wondered if I’d see aggravation or disappointment on his face, but all I saw was warmth and understanding.
It made me like him even more.
“I’ve got to finish the laundry.” I gestured lamely at the basket of sheets. Then, to remind us both that my situation was temporary, I asked, “Any word on the estimate for my car?”
He grimaced. “We both know it’s not worth the trouble. Your best bet is for me to sell it to a junkyard for you. In the meantime, I started workin’ on Hank’s car last night so you can get to work and back and haul him around if need be. I should have it up and runnin’ by tomorrow.”
That explained the open hood of the car in the garage last night.
He gave me a soft smile. “I’ll go start workin’.”
He headed toward the garage, and I heard the sounds of metal clanging as I went inside. Under the guise of cleaning, I searched for any evidence or drugs Seth might have found. Nearly two hours later, I’d come up with a big fat nothing.
I glanced at the clock. It was close to one, so I made sandwiches for lunch. After, I handed one to Hank, who was in his recliner watching a game show.
“I know that boy’s out there in my garage,” he barked.
“And you’re not kicking him off your land?”
He frowned. “He’s out there for you, so it don’t seem right.”
“You mean workin’ on your car so we can get around?” I asked.
He glanced up at me with a knowing look. “We both know it’s more than that.”
He was right. We did.
I took the second sandwich out to the garage. I considered bringing my own to eat with him, but I couldn’t do it. Eating together was too familiar, and while my heart seemed ready to make that leap, my head knew it was a bad idea.
Wyatt grinned when he stopped and watched me walk across the yard toward him. When I reached the edge of the garage, he said, “You’re feedin’ me again.”
“Well, you are workin’ on a car for me to use,” I said, putting the plate on a shelf since his hands were dirty. “It’s the least I can do.” I gestured to the exposed engine. “How’s it looking? Think I’ll be able to drive it to work?”
A frown creased his forehead. “Hopefully tomorrow. The source who gave me the information about the dealer from Atlanta wants to meet with me in Ewing this afternoon. I plan to pick up a few parts while I’m there.”
I suppressed a gasp. “Do you think your source has information about Seth’s murderer?”
“I don’t know. After last night, I hate to leave you, but I think it’s worth going. I don’t want to leave you up here without a car, and since I’m your ride, Junior’s wife is comin’ by to stay with Hank so I can get you back into town. In fact,” he said slowly, as though unsure if he should suggest it, “I was wondering if you’d like to come to Ewing with me.”
I narrowed my eyes. “How’d you work all that out without a phone?”
Instead of taking offense, he laughed. “I used the radio in my tow truck. Ginger should be here in about a half hour. I was just about to come up to the house and tell you.” He grimaced looking pointedly at the sandwich. “I was also gonna ask if you wanted to grab lunch, but you beat me to it.”
While the thought of spending the afternoon with him appealed to me far too much, I already had plans. “I appreciate the offer, but can I take a rain check? Every time I feed Hank, I feel like I’m killing him with food. I really want to see if there are any diabetic cookbooks in the library.”
“Yeah,” he said softly. “Good idea.”
Something lurched in my stomach. Should I tell him my other reason for going? I hesitated, although I wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was because I was still worried he’d betray me, or it could be the opposite—maybe I knew it would twine us even closer together.
By the time Ginger showed up, I was ready to go. I gave her a few instructions on how to care for Hank and then gathered my bag. At the last minute I grabbed the gun Max had given me from Seth’s room, where I’d stowed it in a nightstand drawer, and tucked it back into my purse. I could get in serious trouble for carrying a gun without a concealed carry permit, but it seemed worth the risk.
Wyatt was waiting for me at the bottom of the steps. Appreciation filled his eyes when he saw me. I’d taken a quick shower and blow-dried my hair, adding a bit of a wave to the short ends. I’d gone to the trouble of applying makeup, not enough to look done up, but enough so that I didn’t look so washed out and tired. I’d tucked my work shirt into my purse and was wearing a white eyelet peasant-style shirt with my jeans, a pair of black ankle boots, and a gray cardigan since my freshly washed jacket was hanging on the clothesline along with my other pair of jeans.
“You look beautiful,” he said, and then his eyes widened slightly in surprise as though he hadn’t meant to say it out loud.
“Thanks,” I said, descending the steps, suddenly feeling unbalanced.