Dallas

Willow’s question shakes me back into reality, and I drop my hand from her face.

She wants to have this conversation now.

In the pouring rain.

I chuckle.

This situation sums up our relationship.

Bad timing. Unexpected. Not sure what the next move is.

I run my hands down her arms when her teeth start to chatter. “We need to get you in the truck,” I say, squeezing her shoulders.

I move around her to open the door. She nods timidly, her front teeth biting into her soft lip, and turns her back to me to climb in. I stand behind her, helping her up, and make sure she’s secure.

“I managed to get one bar in the middle of the field. I’m going to try to get in contact with a tow company, so I need you to refrain from leaving the car. I don’t give a shit if a parade starts coming down the street.” I nod my head toward the dashboard. “Turn the heat on high. I have clothes in my gym bag in the backseat for you to change into.”

“Got it. No getting out of the car.” I go to close the door, but she stops me. “What if a serial killer is running toward you with a knife?”

This woman and her fucking questions. Where does she come up with this shit? “You lock the doors and let me deal with it.”

“I’m trained in martial arts, you know. I was a junior green belt. I would be a great help.”

“Look at you, badass. Keep your eyes out for killers and promise me you’ll stay in here.” I can’t believe I’m standing in a fucking storm and taking the chance of getting struck by lightning to entertain this conversation. Willow gets me swept up into her world, her words, and I can’t seem to walk away. “Promise me you’ll stay in here.”

“My promises don’t mean shit, remember?”

“Make them mean something.”

I slam the door shut and let out a sigh before jogging back to the field. I ignore the rain as I hurry back to the same spot and dial the number as fast as I can, hoping that not only the service stays connected, but also that Willow keeps her ass planted in the truck.

I make it through and give the tow company our location. Then, I shove my phone into my pocket. I stop to search the dark sky and twist my wedding ring while rain drips from the tips of my fingers to the mud underneath my boots.

I don’t move. I only think.

My mind hasn’t been fighting back the painful thoughts of missing Lucy today. I haven’t felt like a failure of a husband since I knocked on Willow’s door this morning. I haven’t cursed the world for my loss. The constant guilt and anger didn’t seep through me when I saw the happy family in the booth across from us at the small diner we ate lunch in.

The presence of Willow blocks out that dark tunnel in my brain and gives me a way toward the light and out of my hole.

I open the back door when I get back to the truck, toss my mud-covered boots in the backseat, grab my tennis shoes from the floorboard, and slide into the driver’s side.

My attention shoots straight to Willow. She’s still in her wet clothes and slipping her fingers through the strands of her dripping hair. She sighs, grabs her purse, and digs through it until she scores a hair tie.

I gulp as she lifts her hair up, exposing her long, sleek neck.

Fuck, she’s breathtaking.

“You good?” I finally ask.

She bashfully runs a hand along her pale cheek. “Sorry about that. Minor freak-outs tend to be my thing during stressful situations.”

Her answer is a shot of relief. Relief of not scaring her away. Relief she’s not broaching the conversation she started outside.

“Don’t worry about it. Tow truck will be here in ten to fifteen minutes.”

“They’ll take us back to Blue Beech or fix the flat?”

“Depends. If he can change it in the rain, he will. If not, he’ll take us to the closest repair shop. Flats typically are a quick fix.”

Minutes of silence pass through the cab until Willow says something. “We missed you when you left, you know.” She snorts, and I’m unsure of where she’s going with this conversation. “The temps they sent when you left were terrible, and Hudson was a total asshole for the first month.”

I perk up in my seat. She’s talking about when I quit working for Stella. I didn’t give much notice. I left a day after Lucy told me the diagnosis.

“He was mending a broken heart,” I say, sticking up for my brother.

“Hmm, so is that what happens when men are mending a broken heart? It justifies them acting like assholes?” Her face is playful, but her tone isn’t. It’s built up in hurt, betrayal, and also confusion.

Fuck. Where is this tow truck? I should’ve offered more money to get it here sooner.

“You trying to insinuate something?” I brace myself for the impact she’s about to give me.

“Damn straight I am.”

I swallow down my guilt. “Care to elaborate?”

“People get their hearts broken. People lose people. No offense, but it happens every day. Every minute. That’s no excuse to act like a dick. You were a dick to me. Hell, all men are dicks if you’re not letting them give you theirs. That’s when they’re nice and comforting.”

“I’ll apologize again for my dickdom. Hurt people don’t always intend to hurt other people. That’s not my intention. Trust me, I’d never want anyone to go through the hell I’m going through.”

Her attention moves to the back window as headlights pull up behind us. Perfect timing to end this conversation. Intimate conversations with Willow are high risk for me. I’m a man of few words, and it seems I always choose the worst ones with her.

I grip the door handle. “Don’t get out of this truck, headlight-chaser.”

I meet the man in the middle of our trucks. He’s sporting a parka and black boots.

“Nice day out here, huh?” he asks, thrusting his hand my way.

“For a duck,” I mutter back, shaking his hand.

“It’s about to get worse for ya.”

Of course. The day goes more to shit.

Instead of asking why, I wait for him to elaborate.

“I can’t work in this weather,” he says. “It’s dangerous, and they’re talking about possible tornados.” He whistles. “Half of the town’s power is out due to the storm. Our mechanic went home to his family ’cause of it, but I’ll ask him to come in first thing in the morning to fix this.”

“Fuck. You’ve got to be kidding me.”

He takes a step closer while chewing on a toothpick. “Wish I were. If it helps, I can give you a ride to the motel a few blocks down from the shop.”

I slap him on the shoulder. “Appreciate it.” I nod toward his truck. “You happen to have an umbrella in there?”

“Sure do.”

“Thanks, man.”

I jump back into my truck with the umbrella in my hand, ready to hear Willow rip my head off when I tell her we’ll be having a sleepover tonight. I open my mouth when reality cuts through me. How am I going to handle a sleepover? I grind my teeth. This is a small town. They’ll no doubt have more than one room available. I jumped the gun with the thought that we’d be sharing.

She’s relaxed in the leather seat with her bare feet resting on the dashboard. I can’t stop myself from giving her a once-over. Her soaking T-shirt has been replaced with a rose-colored lace tank top that showcases her cleavage. Her breasts are small, but that doesn’t mean they don’t excite my dick. They fit perfectly in my hands that night.

“Everything okay?” she asks.

I jerk my chin up, my throat tight. “He’s giving us a ride into town.”

“Perfect. How long will it take them to fix it?”

“Till tomorrow.”

Her legs drop from the dashboard faster than Maven comes running when I mention ice cream. “What?” she shrieks. “Where are we supposed to sleep?”

“There’s a motel a few blocks down from the repair shop.”

“Can’t we take an Uber back home and then pick it up in the morning?”

I smirk. “Ubers don’t go to Blue Beech, babe.”

* * *

“Sorry, but we only have one room available.”

Go fucking figure.

Stranded. Check.

Having to share a room. Check.

What else can happen that’s not going to make Willow wish she’d never stepped foot into my truck?

“We’re always booked up on auction days. It’s even worse today,” the woman with steel-gray hair says in a hoarse, cracked voice while shaking her head at us like we’re in the principal’s office. “People don’t want to travel in this mess. Here’s a piece of advice for next time: book in advance.”

“Thanks for the tip.” I don’t give two shits about her advice. She’s our last resort. “We’ll take it.”

I grunt when Willow edges into my side to push herself in front of me. She faces the woman with a Harriet name tag.

“That’s a room with two beds, right?” she asks.

“Sorry, honey. All we have is one queen.” Harriet releases a bland smile. “Again, book in advance next time.”

Sharing a bed. Fucking check.

Willow shoots me an innocent smile. “This will be interesting.”