7. Cranked A Dial
CRANKED A DIAL
“Isee it! I see it!” she snapped a week later.
Tasha hated raising her voice or losing her patience with anyone or anything.
That included the red flashing triangle on her dashboard screaming at her to pull over and check out her tire.
She wasn’t listening though.
Not when she was a quarter of a mile to her development and a half a mile from there until her place.
No way she’d turn around for her father to look at it either, not when she’d just left her parents’ house and it was five miles away.
“Come on, come on. It’s not like you’re going to die on me.”
But it’d be limping at the rate her car felt as if it was tilting.
Yeah, she was positive she had a flat, but she wasn’t pulling over on the side of the road either.
If she could just get in her development, she’d feel a little bit safer. She could park on the side and walk home if she had to and call a tow truck. It’s not like she had anyone else other than her father to change a tire for her.
She sure the hell wasn’t strong enough to do it.
Her blinker came on, horns were blaring at her as she’d pulled her hazard lights for them to go around. Some were even pointing.
“No shit, asshole,” she yelled. “I know!”
Oh wow, that felt good to get out.
A giggle escaped after and she wondered how she could find humor in this when her heart was pounding, her fingers were slick on the steering wheel and her bottom lip might bleed where her teeth sank in.
“It’s in reach now. Just got to crawl my way down three streets.”
One of them being Baker’s. Her head turned to look like it always did now when she drove by. Crazy how, now that she knew where he lived, she couldn’t pull her eyes away from his location.
Not that it mattered all that much.
They hadn’t talked to each other again since she had seen him a week ago walking Micah.
She passed him at work twice this week; he gave her a short wave and moved on.
Message heard loud and clear and for the life of her she couldn’t figure out why she thought it’d be more.
No one wanted to get involved with a single mother!
And it wasn’t as if she was ready to set herself up for it either.
Which didn’t explain why she was coming home all alone to an empty house for the night.
Her townhouse was in sight, her teeth released the hold on her lip and she hoped to hell it wasn’t swollen or she left marks when she pulled into her driveway and killed the engine.
The moment her forehead hit the steering wheel she released her death grip and laughed hysterically.
See. She made it.
“Told you!” she shouted to the car that couldn’t care less at how proud she was of herself.
But somehow being home just meant she was safe, regardless of the pain she was going to feel when she climbed out and knew this was going to cost her a few hundred dollars.
She lifted her head, pushed herself back, squared her shoulders and opened the door with the confidence of a woman who could tackle anything life threw her way.
Just not a tire sitting on the rim.
Her head tilted to the side, trying to get a better angle. It didn’t look like she bent anything, so guess that was a positive.
She pulled her phone out of her purse to search for a garage to call knowing she was going to get hammered with a bill she didn’t need or want, but shit happened in life.
Seemed to happen a lot to her.
“Looks like you’ve got a problem.”
She turned so fast that her feet tripped over herself and had her reaching for the hood of her car.
There was the man who was avoiding her.
Or maybe she was just reading more into it because it’d been so long since she’d ever thought of spending time with the male species. One not related to her.
“Do you think?” she asked, putting a hand on her hip. “I’m glad I made it home without too much damage.”
He pulled behind her in the driveway, the tail end of his SUV hanging out. “Got a spare?”
“I think so. I hope. Good lord, I sound like a complete idiot. Would you ever guess I’ve never had a flat before?”
“No,” he said, shaking his head yes. “Pop your trunk and let me check it out.”
“I can’t ask you to do that.”
“You’re not asking, I’m offering.”
No reason to argue with his jaw set the way it was, so she hit the button on her fob and up it went, and down Baker’s head went lifting the carpeted back and uncovering her spare. Which was really tiny.
“That isn’t going to fit, is it?”
“It’s a donut.”
“Not of the yummy variety,” she mumbled.
He laughed and pulled it out, then the jack that was also in there.
She stepped back out of the way. “How did you know I had a flat? It’s not like you need to come this way to get out.”
“I was getting in my vehicle when you passed my street.”
“How did you know it was me?” Her radar went up. She didn’t know why. It was not as if he screamed someone she should fear.
“I recognized your car. Well,” he said, putting some serious muscle into turning the iron to loosen the bolts on her tire. “I really noticed a car tilted sideways and then it hit me it was you.”
“Because no one else other than a woman would be stupid enough to keep driving it like that?”
“I didn’t say it or think it. I figured it was smart if it happened close to home. Pulling over with a baby in the car isn’t exactly smart either.”
At least he wasn’t insulting her.
“It happened not far away. The light came on with less than a mile to go. I’m assuming I ran over something for it to go that flat so fast.”
“A nail. See it right there.”
Her eyes moved to his finger that was pointing right at it.
Why hadn’t she noticed how big his hands were before?
Or his dark brown hair that looked soft enough to touch.
If she was crazy enough to reach out and do it.
She had to be crazy to even be thinking of that!
“That explains it.”
“You can bring Micah in the house if you want,” he said. “I won’t be long.”
“He’s with my parents for the night.”
“Oh.” He turned his head to look at her quickly, then dropped it back down to finish changing her tire. “I’ll get this done for you so you can get on with your plans.”
He probably thought she had a date.
As if.
The first person she was really interested in enough was kneeling on the concrete, changing her tire and swearing over the scrape he just got on his knuckle.
“No plans and I’ll get something to clean your hand up. I’ll be right back, don’t leave.”
He grunted one more time, then finally got the last lug nut off as she dashed into the house, wet a paper towel and then grabbed the first aid kit from her bathroom.
Her worn and abused tire was next to Baker’s leg. Long legs she shouldn’t be noticing in his shorts either.
More muscle than she thought, the brown hair not excessive and just enough to make her think it was manly.
Just like her eyes shouldn’t, no absolutely, didn’t need to be on his arms while he worked.
Oh boy. Her body just cranked a dial she’d thought was stuck.
Men like Baker, tough, rugged ones, they never were the type she was attracted to.
Not the ones she ever fell for either.
Look at how well all those other men turned out in her life.
Her little bitty donut was slapped onto her car, the lug nuts being swirled back on much quicker than they came off, then the tire that got her home in one piece was tossed in the trunk where it lay for its burial.
“All set,” he said, dropping the jack down and putting that with the iron next to the tire and closing them into the dark.
She pushed the wet paper towel out to him. “Let’s take care of your hand.”
Blood was coming out more than she thought and she hoped he hadn’t cut something more serious.
“Thanks.” He grabbed it and wiped both hands clean, then she reached for the injured one and pulled him to her front porch, still holding his hand, feeling his rough skin, some calluses underneath, and hoping he couldn’t read her mind.
You know, those thoughts where she wondered what it’d feel like to have a guy’s hands on her body.
Not a guy’s. But a man’s!
Rough, strong, capable.
“It won’t stop bleeding. Come in and I’ll get another paper towel. No use putting anything on it until it does.”
“I’m a bleeder,” he said. “It will stop soon.”
“Nonsense. Come in, please.”
He held her stare as if he thought she was inviting him into a dungeon for torture rather than offering to clean a cut and prevent infection.
She turned her back and opened the door, holding it wide, daring him to enter.
He let out a snort that sounded more like a laugh. “I don’t want to get blood on your floors.”
“It cleans up like everything else in life. Let’s just run cold water over it.”
She was still holding his hand as if it was one of her students. Guiding him to the sink, she turned the water on as icy as she could get it and stuck his hand under it.
“Is this how you fix all the bumps and bruises in your classroom?”
“With the younger kids, yes. The older ones, half the time they act tough and say they’ve got it. Just like you.”
“I’d like to think I’m tougher than a ten-year-old.”
Her eyes gave him a slow once over. The grin filled his face as he watched her do it. It didn’t seem like it was necessary to pretend she didn’t find him attractive. She’d seen him looking at her the same way last Saturday.
“Only on Wednesdays,” she said.
He burst out laughing. “You’re pretty fast on your feet.”
“I’ve learned to be.” She moved his hand away from the sink. “Looks like it might have stopped.” She ripped off another paper towel. “Wrap this around it and let’s see.”
“You’ve got a gentle touch,” he mumbled.
“It has more to do with patience and distraction. I didn’t know if you were going to pass out at the sight of blood or not.”
“Not likely.”
The humor hadn’t left his eyes, not even when he lifted the paper towel and held his hand out for her inspection. “Looks good to me.” She pulled a big band aid out of the kit and opened it up, set it down while she put ointment on the gash, then wrapped it up. “There, all better.”
“What? No kiss to make the hurt go away?”
Her smile dropped. Her body stilled. The room went silent.
She was positive he could hear her heart hammering in her chest.
And somehow the stupid words came out in a whisper, “Do you want me to?”