He popped his head out from under the hood of my car and stared at me for a few seconds. His face was almost too perfect, yet almost too rough. His eyes were squinting, like he was trying to read me. I knew how to keep myself under control so I just stood there like I didn’t care. To a point, I really didn’t care, but what this guy didn’t know was that on the inside I was completely collapsing.

Being alone for however long it was, smoking cigarette after cigarette, everything really hit me. Strangely enough, I wanted to be alone, and I was alone, but then being alone made me hate being alone. I felt like I was going to be alone for the rest of my life. Because I had given so much to Parker. So much time. Care. My love.

My mind suddenly shifted gears as this guy kept looking at me.

So I studied him.

Why not?

He was definitely something to look at.

There was a little scruff on his face, just enough to be visible but nothing crazy. His dark eyes matched his dark hair. He had the kind of eyes and stare that told a story. When he stood all the way up, he was a hell of a lot taller than me and his shoulders seemed like they were the length of my car. His plain black t-shirt did no justice to the muscles that seemed to be aching to rip through. But trust me, there was plenty of muscle showing on the visible skin. Well, his skin wasn’t exactly visible. He was tattooed from his wrists to where the tight sleeves of his t-shirt swallowed his arms.

I tried really hard not to eye-hump him, but come on, it was impossible not to. I needed it. I deserved it. My heart was broken and my body, heart, and mind were in total rebound mode. Then, in a sick and twisted way I suddenly saw myself marrying this tattooed hunk just to flaunt him around someone else for fun. I tried to imagine Parker’s face if I brought this guy around. Parker was totally short, skinny, classically good looking. Nothing like this guy. This guy was built from living life. Definitely not some pretty boy at all.

Rough and tough, which wasn’t the worst thing for me at that moment.

I swallowed hard, trying to chase away some thoughts and collect some others.

“What’s the verdict?” I asked.

“I don’t know, darlin’,” he said. “I don’t have any tools with me. I’m just looking for anything obvious.”

“I usually just pour water. That’s what I was told to do. Always does the trick.”

“Where do you pour the water?”

“The engine, or something…”

He smirked. Little dimples formed on the edge of his scruff. “I take it you don’t have any water with you?”

“I normally do.”

“But today you don’t.”

“The container of water had a hole in it.”

“Shit. You’re having a bad day, huh?”

“You have no idea,” I muttered.

“I’ll make a call then. Get you all fixed up and on your way.”

“Fixed up,” I said. “Right. And you are…?”

He wiped his big hands on his jeans, leaving some black streaks. He was sexy and dirty.

Just the way I was craving it…

Before I knew it, my hand was attached to his in a handshake.

“Zayne,” he said.

“Bella,” I said.

“Beautiful.”

“What?” I asked.

“Your name. Doesn’t it mean beautiful?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe. Why?”

“I’m pretty sure it does.”

“So you’re a language expert who rides a motorcycle?” I asked. “Trying to look cool and tough but you can’t fix my car, huh?”

I was flirting. And I didn’t care. I liked it.

Zayne took his hand back. “Wow. Taking a shot at the only person out here who can save your ass.”

“Who said my ass wants to be saved?”

“So you’re going to just hang here and…”

“That’s my business,” I said.

“Right. Well, it was a pleasure to meet you, darlin’. Or should I say, beautiful?”

He took a step and I grabbed for his arm. My fingers touching his bare skin. Touching the muscle of his forearm. Touching the ink that buried itself into his skin.

“Wait. Sorry. I…”

“It’s okay,” he whispered. “I’m just fucking around.”

I nodded. “Your name. Zayne. What does it mean?”

“How the hell should I know?” he asked with a grin that made my knees want to call it quits. “It’s a name.”

“Just like mine,” I said.

“Need a smoke?” he asked.

“I’m good for now,” I said. “Had one too many as it is. They’re not good for you, Zayne.”

“The best things in life aren’t.”

He was so smooth. He was so cool.

“I, uh, was just heading out on a little trip,” I said, stumbling around words like I was drunk. “I didn’t expect my car to break down.”

“That’s a lie,” he said.

“Excuse me?”

“You keep a thing of water in the trunk. So this happens all the time, right?”

“Not all the time, but yeah, it’s happened before.”

“So you knew there was a chance.”

“Fine. Sure.”

“Which means going somewhere is a risk. So wherever you’re going you were willing to take that risk.”

This guy was calling me the hell out. He was reading me with ease.

I started to shake my head. Like I wanted to deny what he was saying. But he had my number. If I had been taking a planned-out trip I would have had my car looked over. Or maybe even rented a car to ensure I wouldn’t deal with something breaking down.

“That’s why I ride a motorcycle,” he said.

“What? Your motorcycle never breaks down?”

“Hasn’t let me down once,” Zayne said.

He looked over his shoulder at his ride.

We were too close to one another, thanks to the handshake we had as we introduced ourselves properly. Although, anything proper here seemed to be long lost. He’d rolled up on me as I was smoking and crying on the hood of my car.

There was a pause of silence and I feared he was going to keep cutting into me. I had no desire to tell Zayne what I was doing, or why.

“I like your tattoos,” I blurted out like a damn fool.

Zayne looked down at his arms and then back up at me. He knew exactly what I was trying to do. A small smile crept along his sexy face.

Then without missing a beat, he said, “Thanks. I better go make that call.”

Zayne winked at me and reached for his pocket. He took out a phone and walked away a few steps. I leaned against my car, trying to look cool (for whatever reason), and started to think about what exactly had just happened in the last hour of my life. The one thing that jumped out was from the second I heard Zayne’s motorcycle approaching, everything bad that happened faded away. For a little while, I forgot about it all.

The sounds of them together. The sight of them together. Standing there, stomach sick, watching her grab for her clothes. Not really prepared for that particular situation and what I was supposed to do. Spending too much time watching way too much of them.

“Hey, Gonzo. It’s Zayne.”

That brought my attention back to reality.

Gonzo?

I tilted my head.

Wasn’t that someone from a kids show or something?

“I’m a little stuck here,” Zayne said. “Way out here, man. I need a tow. Nah, not the ride. That thing never lets me down.” Zayne looked back at me, half smirking. “A car. Yeah, I said a car. No, it’s not my car, though. It’s, uh, a friend of mine. She broke down. Okay. Yeah. Sounds good. Thank you. Just take the main out of Hundred Falls Valley and keep going until you find me. Oh, you’re sending Robby out. Got it. We’ll be here. See you soon.”

Zayne ended the call.

He turned all the way around to face me. He leaned against my car, his right elbow on the roof. He made sexy and cool so smooth.

“Gonzo?” I asked.

“He’s a good guy. Owns the garage in town. He’ll get you back on the road.”

“Right. So you can’t fix it, huh?”

“I don’t work on cars,” Zayne said.

“Then what do you do?”

“Tattoos, darlin’.”

Oh. Shit.

So this hunk was built like stone, inked up, and was a tattoo artist himself. Could he get any hotter?

I bit my tongue as I watched him pull out a cigarette and stick it between his lips. He lit it, bowing his head a little, his eyes looking at me. He was smoldering with sex. It just radiated from him. I was happy to be leaning against my car because I felt like I was going to pass out or something.

“We probably have about twenty minutes or so to kill,” Zayne said. “So… where were you heading to?”

No. No. No.

“Somewhere,” I said.

“Somewhere,” he said.

“Nowhere,” I said. “I mean, I was just… driving.”

Zayne nodded. He took a drag and blew smoke. The gentle breeze that helped to keep me semi-cool took the smoke and swirled it into the air.

He looked so cool. So hot, too. The kind of guy that would make people want to smoke because he made it look so good. And that made him so damn bad.

He was totally rebound-worthy, that thought still pinging at my mind. I could imagine him chasing away everything with his hands. His mouth. His lips and tongue. And not just for a little while either. Maybe hours. Maybe enough to make it go away for good.

I was standing there, eye-humping like crazy.

“Just driving,” he said. “I respect that. That’s what I was doing. The road opens things up, you know?”

“Yeah, right.”

I folded my arms and looked away from him.

“So my car is getting towed into town?” I asked.

“Yeah. Gonzo will take a look and figure it out. Is there somewhere you need to be? I could give you a ride…”

“Actually, I have nowhere to go. Nowhere to be.”

Zayne took the cigarette from his mouth and flicked it as far as he could. He stepped toward me, smoke blowing out of his mouth. He stopped with just a foot between us. He was like a giant as he towered over me.

“You’re broken down on the side of the road, nowhere to go, crying on the hood of your car. You’re every guy’s nightmare, darlin’.”

“Then you better run,” I said. “Things could get really scary.”

Zayne grinned again. He reached for my face, gently touching my chin. “I can handle scary. I’m not sure you can handle me.”

I played the game and I reached up and pulled his hand off my chin.

“How about one of those smokes?” I asked.

Zayne didn’t give me an inch to breathe as he got one for me.

It was hotter between us than it was outside.

And that was serious trouble.