The air chilled and ruffled through the branches of the trees. Jo stared straight ahead. God, she was lovely in the afternoon light. An errant ray of sun illuminated the auburn highlights in her dark hair. A stray lock dangled over one eye, fluttering on the light breeze. I brushed the silky strand behind her ear, feeling a shiver course through my fingers at the touch of her skin against mine.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” The line of her jaw set stubbornly, but unshed tears glimmered in her eyes. “He dumped me. He doesn’t love me. End of story.”

What kind of fucker wouldn’t love her? Anger flared in my chest. “Then he’s a fool,” I said. I hated the bastard for making her cry. I hated the way her lower lip quivered. I hated the way her tears made me feel helpless. “You’re a force to be reckoned with, Jo Hollander, and if he can’t see you the way I see you—amazing, strong, determined—then he’s an idiot.”

“Obviously.” Her eyes met mine, still shiny with hurt. She lifted her chin higher.

“You want me to go over there and punch him?” I said, only half joking.

“No.” She recoiled, then a tiny smile tilted the corners of her lips. “Well, yes, that would be awesome, but no. He’s not worth it.”

“If you change your mind, let me know.” I flexed my fingers, thinking how good it would feel to break that skinny guy’s straight nose. I’d taken an instant dislike to his stuffy blazer, the scarf around his neck, and his shiny loafers.

“Let’s go.” She stood, all traces of tears gone from her cheeks and a steely strength straightening her shoulders. “This was a waste of time. Can you take me home?”

We made the trip in silence. When I pulled the vehicle into her driveway, I shut off the engine and faced her. She smiled, but I saw through the façade. I hated seeing her so upset but admired the way she fought to be brave. Our eyes met. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t look away. I wanted to take her in my arms, suck her full bottom lip into my mouth, and never let it go.

“Well, thanks for the ride.” Her hand reached for the door handle, spurring me into action.

“Hold up.” I hopped out of the car, jogged to the other side, and opened the door. On the way, I passed her car, still sitting in the same place. “What’s up with your ride?”

“The transmission is out.” A heavy sigh lifted her boobs. I tried not to stare. “It’s low on my list of priorities right now.”

“I could take a look at it if you want.” The offer popped out before I could stop it. “I’m not a mechanic, but I know my way around a car.”

“Thanks, but no. You’ve done more than enough.”

“I know I don’t have to. I want to.” And there it was, plain and simple. I wanted to help her. “Besides, I enjoy it.” I extended a hand to help her down from the seat then closed the door behind her.

“Well, I suppose you can’t mess it up any worse than it already is.”

“Your confidence is underwhelming.”

We both laughed. I placed a hand below her shoulders, guiding her around the front of the car, toward the house. Her dad met us at the front door. Like before, he was wearing a white T-shirt and boxer shorts.

“What’s going on? Is everything okay?” he asked, eyeing me suspiciously, his gaze bouncing from Jo’s red-rimmed eyes to my face.

“Everything’s fine, Dad. Get in the house before the neighbors see you.” She flapped a hand, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

“I thought you two weren’t dating.” His eyes met mine, eyes exactly like Jo’s and full of fatherly protectiveness.

“We’re not,” Jo and I said in unison.

“He gave me a lift home from the coffee shop,” she continued. “He’s going to check out my car.”

“If you don’t mind,” I added, not wanting to step on his authority as man of the house.

“I don’t mind,” he said. “I’ve got a hydraulic lift. You can put it up and take a look.”

Two car doors slammed in the driveway. The three of us snapped our heads in the direction of the sounds. Bronte’s red head appeared on the other side of the screen door, followed by Rhett’s brown one.

“Hey, Dad.” Bronte planted a kiss on her father’s cheek then narrowed her eyes at my hand on Jo’s back. I pulled it away and used it to ruffle my hair. I hadn’t even realized I was still touching her; it had felt so right there. Jo stepped aside, widening the gap between us. Bronte’s gaze bounced between me and her sister. “What are you guys doing?”

“Yeah, what are you doing here?” Rhett lifted an eyebrow at me. “Hey, Mr. H. Good to see you.”

“I gave her a ride home,” I said, feeling like I’d been caught with my hand in the cookie jar.

“Carter’s going to take a look at my car,” Jo said, her flush deepening from rose to scarlet.

“I’ll get the key to the garage,” Mr. H said. “You boys wanna push the car down the driveway?”

“Sure,” I said with a slow shake of my head for Rhett. Whatever he was thinking, he needed to keep it to himself.

“You guys want a beer?” Jo asked, moving toward the kitchen. Mr. H followed her, his step lighter than before. Jo extended an arm, blocking his path. “For God’s sake, Dad, put on some pants, would you?”

A chuckle bounced up my throat. I coughed and cleared my throat to stifle it. Rhett smirked, catching my gaze.

Mr. H disappeared into the laundry room and came out wearing a pair of well-worn blue jeans and a gray T-shirt. Fully dressed, he looked less broken and younger. He dangled a set of keys from his hand. “Come on, boys. Let’s take a look at that car.”

* * *

Mr. H had a three-bay fully equipped garage behind the house. When he lifted the middle overhead door, Rhett let out a low whistle. A 1967 Oldsmobile 442 sat in the left bay. I made a straight line to it and trailed a hand over the front fender.

“You like that?” Mr. H asked.

“Hell yes. Who wouldn’t?” I bent to peer through the dusty window.

“All original from bumper to bumper.” The pride in the man’s voice was unmistakable. “Only forty thousand miles on it. Needs some work though.”

“It’s a shame to see it just sitting here,” Rhett said. We stared at the car in admiration. “Why don’t you fix it up?”

“I bought it for my wife. She had a car just like this when we met.” His shoulders dipped and the light left his eyes. “After she was gone, I didn’t see much use in it anymore. Too many memories.”

“Rhett and I worked at a garage, changing oil and doing tune-ups when were in high school.” I jumped to another topic of conversation, hoping to ease his distress. “You’ve got a nice setup in here.”

“Thanks. When I was younger, I spent a lot of time out here, when cars were simple. I’m not much with new ones.” He turned away from the Oldsmobile and back to Jo’s car. “I’ll try to help if I can though.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Rhett nodded toward the dilapidated Chevy. “Let’s get her on the lift and see what’s going on.”

Mr. H took the wheel while Rhett and I pushed the car from the rear. I could tell Rhett had something to say by the way his eyes sparkled. When Mr. H stepped away to activate the lift, Rhett searched my face.

“Don’t look at me like that,” I said, frowning.

“What are you up to?”

“Nothing. Can’t a guy help a girl out?” I tried to walk past him, but he stepped into my path.

“You don’t do anything without an agenda. It’s not the way you’re built.” When I tried to go around him again, he put a hand on my arm. “Don’t mess with my family, Carter.”

“I’m not messing with them.” His accusation stung. Did he really think I’d stoop so low?

“Then what are you doing here? With Jo? Look me in the eyes and tell me you’re not up to something.”

I clenched my jaw before staring him straight in the eyes. “I’m not up to anything. I like Jo. She needs some help. I can help her. Give me a fucking break.” We glared at each other. “I mean it.”

“Okay.” His hand dropped to his side, tone wary.

Jo entered the garage, carrying a tray of canned beers and snacks. The swing of her round bottom redirected my attention. Rhett saw the trajectory of my gaze and scowled. I looked back at Jo. This time all I saw were her long-lashed eyes. They stared at me and into me, clear and knowing and kind and filled with heat. I forgot to worry about Rhett or the car or Mr. H. I took the tray from Jo, rewarded by her smile, and grinned back.

“Jesus, Carter,” Rhett muttered under his breath, still at my side. “You promised.”

“Well, I’m unpromising,” I replied, my gaze continuing to follow Jo as she stood beside her dad. I rarely, if ever, went back on a promise, but this one I couldn’t keep. I wanted Jo Hollander in my bed, and no one, not even my best friend, could stop me from trying to get her there.