Dallas

“Woohoo! We won!”

I can’t stop my lips from breaking into a smile, watching Willow jump up and down in excitement after the auctioneer yells, “Sold,” and points to me.

The men around me are either staring at her in annoyance or desire, and I want to slap all their thoughts from their heads.

I’ve managed to snag the excavator and got a better deal than I planned. An overweight man wearing a business suit had me worried for a minute when he started driving the price up, but lucky for me, he gave up early.

I know his kind. The men who are only in business for profit and for retail-fucking people with no concern about how they bust their asses every day to keep food in their families’ mouths. Barnes Machinery and Equipment isn’t like that. We give a shit about people, about their checkbooks, never high gross.

Willow insisted on tagging along with me at the bidding yard. I offered to let her wait in the truck or hang out in the coffee shop across the street since there’s a lot of standing and waiting around for your item to come up. She wouldn’t have it and refused to decline a ticket into my world.

She hasn’t complained once, which doesn’t surprise me. She’s a hard worker, who scored a job with one of the most prestigious celebrity PR and assistant firms in LA at twenty-one. She worked with Hollywood’s elite and impressed Stella so much, she hired her full-time. Even though Stella isn’t as hard on her, Willow works her ass off to make things easier for her boss.

Hell, most of the time she goes above and beyond what is asked of her. She works long hours, does the shit no one else wants to do, and fixes any problems that come along.

“How about some jams?” Willow asks when we get back into the truck.

I paid for the machine, filled out all the necessary paperwork, and scheduled the delivery. We’d gotten lunch before the auction started, and now, my goal is to find her some kick-ass tacos for being such a good sport.

“You be the DJ,” I answer.

Music comes blaring through the speakers when she turns the radio on. I haven’t used it since dropping Maven off at camp and cringe at the same time she bursts out into a fit of laughter. Since her laugh is contagious, I can’t stop myself from doing the same.

“Whoa,” she says when she catches her breath. “Didn’t peg you as a Bieber fan, Barnes.”

I turn down the volume a few notches. “I’m not. Maven is a Bieber fan.”

“Blaming it on the kid, huh? How convenient.” She smacks her palm against her forehead. “Oh. My. God.”

I lift my chin. “What?”

“My baby daddy is a Belieber.”

“A what?”

“A Belieber. A member of Justin’s fan club.”

For fuck’s sake.

Not only do I have to listen to this shit, but now, Willow also thinks I’m his biggest fucking fan with posters of his mug splattered all over my bedroom wall.

“I’m not, let me repeat, I’m not a member of his fan club.”

“I believe you.” A smile still dances on her moist lips.

“Appreciate it.”

“You’re the President of it.”

I can’t stop myself from smiling as a light chuckle echoes from my chest. “Oh, come on, you honestly can’t believe I listen to this shit.”

“The evidence is clear, counselor. His music is on your radio.”

Thunder roars through the sky so loud, I can’t hear Bieber, and rain smacks into my windshield. Fuck.

“And look at that. God knows you’re lying, too.”

“Or the weather predicted a seventy percent chance of thunderstorms, but I hoped it’d be in our favor.”

At least it waited until after the auction to pour hell down.

The windshield wipers squeak when I shift them to high, and Willow turns down the music, reading my mind so that I can focus better on the road. My headlights shine brightly as the sky turns a deep shade of black even though it’s only after six.

I lower my speed and get better control of my view on the road when a loud pop rings out, and my steering wheel starts to shake. The ride gets bumpy, and Willow hangs on to her seat belt for stability.

I pull the truck over and park it before slamming my hand against the steering wheel, causing the horn to blare out.

“Motherfucker,” I mutter.

“What?” Willow asks.

“We have a flat.”

She stares at me as if it’s not a problem. “You know how to change a tire, right?”

I nod. “It helps if you have a spare though.”

Her jaw drops. “You’re kidding me.”

“I wish I were.” I feel like a defeated asshole.

This puts a damper on our almost perfect day. We’re stranded in the rain, and instead of tacos, I’ll be giving her Maven’s fruit snacks as the final course.

“No big deal. We’ll call a tow truck. I’ve been in bigger messes than this in my sleep.”

“One problem with that.” I pull out my phone to show her the screen. “No service. Tell me you have something.”

She snatches her purse from the floorboard and rifles through it before finding her phone.

Horror takes over her face when the screen comes to life.

“For real?” she shrieks, throwing her hands up in the air. “We’re in the ass crack of no-man’s-land stranded with no spare tire. This is straight out of a horror movie.” She turns around and lays her gaze out the back window. “Swear to God, if a meat-truck-driving serial killer pulls up, I’m making a run for it.”

I grind my teeth, my heart crashing with anguish and guilt from putting her in this situation. I gave my dad my spare last week and forgot to replace it.

Her face softens when she peeks over at me. “Shit, sorry,” she whispers over the pelting rain hitting the windshield. “That was too dramatic for this situation. I tend to do that at times.”

“You’re fine. I’ll take dramatics over you wanting to kill me.” I turn around in my seat and snatch a jacket from the backseat. “I’m going to see if I can manage to get service in the field over there.”

She points out the window. “It’s pouring. There are no streetlights. We should wait until the storm calms before going out.”

I put the jacket on. “What if it storms all night?”

She starts to unbuckle her seat belt. “Then, I’m coming with you.”

I stop her and snap it back in place. “The fuck you are. Stay here, and I’ll be back in a flash.”

I jump out of the truck despite her protests and hold my phone in the air while sprinting toward the field. The rain comes at me sideways while I wait for the service bars to light up on my phone.

Come on! Come on!

I jump, nearly losing my phone, when a crack of lightning bites through the dark sky. I can barely make out the truck in the downpour and am still messing with my phone when I notice the bright shine of headlights getting closer.

My attention snaps away from the car to the truck at the sound of a door slamming. I scream her name and race toward her when she starts running to the side of the road, waving her hands in the air. The car flies by, splashing her with water, and her shoulders slump in failure.

Fear and anger splinter through me like the storm.

“Have you lost your mind?” I scream, snatching her by the waist from behind and swinging her into my arms. I hover my body over hers to protect her from getting more soaked and tighten my hold on her shivering body while walking us from the street back to my truck. “They could’ve run you over!”

My breathing halts, dying in my throat, and a chill colder than the rain zips down my spine when she rotates herself in my arms. My hands stay on her wrists as she glares at me before jerking out of my hold with a huff.

“I was flagging them down for help!”

“You running out in the street, waving down some stranger, does not fucking help me. You keeping your ass in the heated seat in the safety of my truck is what helps me.”

“It was worth a try!”

The way her voice cracks makes me feel like shit. We lock eyes. She’s staring at me like she’s searching my soul, assessing the situation in my eyes, unsure of what my next step will be.

I suck in each breath she expels, inhaling her sweet scent, nearly panting at the sight of her dripping wet in front of me, neglecting the shitty situation we’re in. Her shirt is soaked to her skin, her hard nipples peeking through the thin tee, and I lick my lips, mentally tasting her.

My next step should be getting her inside the truck, out of this chilly ambush of rain, but goddamn it, I can’t break away. I run a hand through her hair and smooth it down before lowering my fingers to her cheek. She shuts her eyes and relaxes into my touch.

I inch forward, my chest brushing against hers, and she lets out a soft moan. The sweet sound runs straight to my dick.

“Dallas,” she whispers, eyes still closed, “what are we doing?”

I can’t stop myself from chuckling. “We’re standing in the rain.”

“No,” she croaks out. “What are we doing?”