God dammit.
I have somewhere to be but I’m going to offer her a ride anyway.
The problem is, I’m a big guy. Definitely imposing at six four and two hundred and twenty pounds. The long hair and somewhat unkempt beard probably don’t do anything to make me look less dangerous, and since I’m a stranger, I figure I can be intimidating to a woman alone on a dark road.
“What can I do?” I ask politely, getting out of the car.
The snow is coming down harder and she looks up in frustration.
“I…” Her phone rings and she sighs, picking it up. “I know, I’m sorry. My car broke down. I’ll be there as soon as I can… Iknow, Mrs. Carter.” She grits her teeth at whatever Mrs. Carter says to her. “You think I can afford two dollars a minute in late fees? I can’t control the weather—or my stupid car! I’ll be there as soon as I can.” She jabs at the screen, apparently ending the call.
Then she looks up at me, eyes narrowing slightly as if steeling her resolve.
The change in attitude is kind of adorable.
“Are you a serial killer?” she asks, completely serious.
I almost laugh but manage to keep a straight face. “No. I definitely am not.”
“What’s your name?”
“West McGregor.” Maybe the name will be familiar to her.
But it doesn’t seem to ring any bells. Instead, she walks over to my Tahoe and snaps a picture of the license plate. Then she types on her phone.
“I just sent your license to my boss and my best friend. If you kill me, they’ll know it’s you.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I nod, still fighting a smile. She’s smart under the circumstances, and I respect her being cautious, but it’s cute.
“I need the car seat,” she whispers after a moment. “My son is only three.”
Something twists inside me.
The last time I got involved with a woman with a kid, it went wrong a hundred ways to Sunday.
But I’m not going to date this woman.
I’m just being a good Samaritan.
“I’ll get the car seat. Why don’t you get in my SUV and warm up? You’re practically turning blue.”
“Uh, yeah. In a second.” She leans into the car and grabs a massive purse and begins putting a bunch of things in it. Her coat drifts up, revealing a very cute jean-clad backside that’s wiggling as she works.
Then her feet start to slide out from under her and I instinctively reach out to stop it, catching her around the waist.
“Oh!” She flails for a second before I plant my feet and draw her warm, lithe body firmly against mine.
Jesus, she’s soft and curvy and—what the fuck am I doing?
Quickly releasing her, I take a step back. “You okay?”
“Yes. Thank you.”
Is her face flushed?
Forcing myself to look away, I open the back door and start unhooking the car seat. I did this at least a thousand times for Briar when we were together.
Fuck.