Chapter 3
three
Cameron
At the sound of the horn, I quickly drop the hand of the stunning blonde who, just moments ago, held me up at spray point. Stepping back, I look down at my hand and flex my fingers, pondering what the hell I just felt when I register the sweet voice of a child.
“Hey! Can I get out of the truck now?” the child says.
I look up just in time to see the window roll down farther as an adorable little girl with wild strawberry blonde hair sticks her head out.
Rosalie rushes back to the truck, opens the door, and says something to the girl, rolling all the windows down a bit to allow some fresh air to flow, but not letting her out of the car.
She either doesn’t trust me or is worried about her child being loose on the side of the road while we change her tire. Either way, I get it.
“Sorry about that.”
“No worries,” I reply, trying for nonchalance. Even though my mind is racing, running through every possibility of who that little girl could be. Sister? Niece? Daughter?
I try to wrap my head around the fact that this beautiful woman could have a daughter who looks to be around seven or eight years old.
Rosalie looks fairly young, in her mid-twenties, if I had to guess, but it’s definitely possible.
“My spare is back here,” Rosalie says as she leads me away from the cab of the truck. Some of the ease and playfulness between us is gone, and I desperately want it back. But as I follow her to the back of the truck, I get distracted by her ass.
Attached to long, toned legs highlighted by her cut-off shorts, I’m simultaneously impressed with her skill and turned on by the little bit of cheek peeking out of the bottom of her shorts when she hoists herself up over the side of the truck bed to grab the tools.
Now, the only words attempting to escape my mouth are the kind that won’t win me any gentlemanly points. Especially not after I just made a point of having good manners.
I clear my throat and covertly adjust myself just before she drops down in front of me, handing me the tools and hopping up again to grab the wheel chocks to secure the trailer.
“Wow. You really don’t need my help, do you?”
“Nope,” she says with a popped p. “But I’m glad you’re here because now this will go faster.”
The smile she swings my way has some of the weariness I still felt from earlier dissipating. Feeling confident enough to continue with our conversation, I ask her a question that immediately has me mentally slapping myself across the face. “So, are you from around here?”
Really, Cameron? That’s what you lead with? I’m either going to come off like a creep, wanting to know where she lives, or she’s going to think I’m the most boring conversationalist ever.
Rosalie surprises me with a soft laugh and what I assume is an honest answer.
“No, I’m not from around here. I was actually on the last stretch of the longest drive in history to our new home. And, truthfully, I’m beyond exhausted and just ready to be there.”
She blows out an upward breath that has the tiny hairs that have escaped her ponytail fluttering around her face, and I fight the urge to tuck them behind her ears.
“This was definitely not on my Colorado to Kentucky bingo card. Then again, neither were all fifty of the bathroom stops.”
I chuckle and ask the question I’m most curious about. “And your traveling companion is…” I trail off purposefully, feeling a bit awkward that I just went for it.
There are a couple moments of silence as Rosalie connects the pieces of the tool that will help drop the spare from underneath the chassis. Then she pauses what she’s doing and turns to face me.
There is a hesitance before her gaze meets mine, searching for something. I don’t know what, but she must find it because she clears her throat and says, “That’s my daughter.”
I don’t push her for a name or any other information. Being a single dad, I know the protectiveness you feel for your child, and I know it was a lot for Rosalie to share just that simple truth with me, a relative stranger.
“She’s cute,” I say, and then quickly follow it up with “Okay, boss, where do you want me?”
Rosalie rolls her eyes, but I don’t miss the smirk on her lips before she places the tool into the back of the truck and begins to turn it.
“If you could just lie down under the truck bed, wait for the spare to drop, and drag it back out here, that would be great.”
I lie down on my back and scoot partially under the back of the truck.
I know lying on my stomach is the better position for dragging the tire out, but this is a better angle to see Rosalie at work.
I watch her toned body move as she spins the tool in circles, and I imagine all of the other things I could be doing to her from this angle.
I’m lost in that thought when the spare drops down right by my head. I startle and jerk upward, effectively hitting my head on the chassis of the truck.
“Oh fuck!” I shout as my hand flies to my head. I don’t feel any blood, but there will absolutely be a small knot there when I wake up tomorrow morning.
I look toward my feet just in time to see Rosalie’s panicked face peering down below the bed of the truck. “Oh my gosh, Cameron! Are you all right?”
No, I’m not. Although I’m talking about my pride, and I’m pretty sure she’s referencing my head. So, I respond, “Yes, ma’am, I am,” adding a playful wink to distract her from my idiocy.
I turn my head a bit to hide my grimace because just that small movement sent a zap of pain across my forehead.
Awesome, I think, internally giving myself two mocking thumbs-up. What a way to impress the girl.
Rosalie slaps the bottom of my leg that’s still exposed at the back of the truck. “All right then, honey. If you’re sure you’re fine, why don’t you grab the tire and push it on out here.”
I hear the teasing in her voice when she calls me honey, but something deep in my chest clenches and warms. I don’t have time to read too much into my reaction right now, so I do what she asks, releasing the nut that holds the tire in place before pushing it into her waiting hands.