were wide and she’d stopped smiling, but she didn’t pull her hand away, so he didn’t let her go.
So what do you say we jump in my truck, drive up to Vegas and get married?
His brain was definitely shorting at her touch. He knew there was something he should ask her that lay somewhere between “Wanna go have sex?” and “Wanna get married?” but his mind was completely blank.
“I’m from New York,” Savannah told him, and the reality of a three-thousand-mile commute from his house to hers crashed onto him like an anvil from the sky.
“The city, or . . . ?” As if it actually made a speck of difference to him.
“I live about forty minutes north of New York City,” she told him.
“I live in San Diego.”
“Yeah, I know.” She smiled weakly, turning to gesture down the street toward his house. “You said.”
What the hell did that smile mean? He turned back to her car. Where was the goddamn spare? He should put it on her car, push her inside, and make her drive away. Letting himself fall for this woman would be idiotic. “How long did you say you’re here for?”
“I’m not sure exactly,” she said. “Just a few days.” She cleared her throat. “I’d like to repay you in some way for . . . I mean, not repay but, rather, thank you for helping me like this and . . .”
Unbelievable. “The spare’s flat.”
She stopped trying to get up her nerve to ask him whatever it was she was going to ask him, and came to look at the tire. “It is?”
“Look at it.” It was completely soft.
“It’s not supposed to be that way?” She was serious.
“Nope.” He tossed the spare back into the trunk, quickly put the old tire back on, fastening the lug nuts loosely. “You got the rental information in the glove box? There’s probably a number to call for assistance.”
She nodded. “I feel so stupid. If I had known . . . Instead I got all dirty, and you got all dirty, and I . . . I completely wasted your time.”
Ken cranked the jack and lowered the car to the ground. “No sweat. Grease washes off.” He put the jack in with the spare, closed the trunk.
“I’m so sorry.” She was actually upset about this.
“So you’re automotively challenged—so what? You want to see real trouble? Ask me to practice law.”
Jackpot. He’d coaxed a smile out of her. “Are you always so nice?” she asked.
“Nah, like I said, you caught me on a good day.”
And there they were, standing next to her flat tire, smiling at each other like a pair of fools.
Ken cleared his throat. “So, um, where are you staying?”
“At the Hotel Del Coronado.”
The Del. Holy God. She either had money or worked for a company that did. “Okay, look. If you can give me five minutes to put my groceries in the house, I’ll give you a lift back there. Or—” Or you could come over to my place, call the rental car company, have ’em tow the vehicle while you stay and have a swim in the pool, stay all night, stay for a week, stay forever . . .
“Will you have dinner with me?” Savannah asked.
That was it. That was the question that he should have asked her.
He had to clear his throat so the words could come out. “I’d love to.”
She actually looked relieved—as if there was a snowball’s chance in hell he’d turn her down. “There’s a restaurant at the hotel that’s supposed to be wonderful—”
“At the Del?” She wanted to have dinner with him at the freaking Del? That place was pure gourmet—five stars on a scale of one to four. “Uh, Savannah, you know, we’re not exactly dressed for the Del.”
“Well, of course I’d have to change—”
Oh, man, he didn’t want to go to the Del and sit there all starched and uncomfortable. And while he was all for her taking off the clothes she was wearing, he didn’t want her putting on anything else.
“Honey, you’re going to have to do more than change. You have to hose yourself down. You’ve got grease,
So what do you say we jump in my truck, drive up to Vegas and get married?
His brain was definitely shorting at her touch. He knew there was something he should ask her that lay somewhere between “Wanna go have sex?” and “Wanna get married?” but his mind was completely blank.
“I’m from New York,” Savannah told him, and the reality of a three-thousand-mile commute from his house to hers crashed onto him like an anvil from the sky.
“The city, or . . . ?” As if it actually made a speck of difference to him.
“I live about forty minutes north of New York City,” she told him.
“I live in San Diego.”
“Yeah, I know.” She smiled weakly, turning to gesture down the street toward his house. “You said.”
What the hell did that smile mean? He turned back to her car. Where was the goddamn spare? He should put it on her car, push her inside, and make her drive away. Letting himself fall for this woman would be idiotic. “How long did you say you’re here for?”
“I’m not sure exactly,” she said. “Just a few days.” She cleared her throat. “I’d like to repay you in some way for . . . I mean, not repay but, rather, thank you for helping me like this and . . .”
Unbelievable. “The spare’s flat.”
She stopped trying to get up her nerve to ask him whatever it was she was going to ask him, and came to look at the tire. “It is?”
“Look at it.” It was completely soft.
“It’s not supposed to be that way?” She was serious.
“Nope.” He tossed the spare back into the trunk, quickly put the old tire back on, fastening the lug nuts loosely. “You got the rental information in the glove box? There’s probably a number to call for assistance.”
She nodded. “I feel so stupid. If I had known . . . Instead I got all dirty, and you got all dirty, and I . . . I completely wasted your time.”
Ken cranked the jack and lowered the car to the ground. “No sweat. Grease washes off.” He put the jack in with the spare, closed the trunk.
“I’m so sorry.” She was actually upset about this.
“So you’re automotively challenged—so what? You want to see real trouble? Ask me to practice law.”
Jackpot. He’d coaxed a smile out of her. “Are you always so nice?” she asked.
“Nah, like I said, you caught me on a good day.”
And there they were, standing next to her flat tire, smiling at each other like a pair of fools.
Ken cleared his throat. “So, um, where are you staying?”
“At the Hotel Del Coronado.”
The Del. Holy God. She either had money or worked for a company that did. “Okay, look. If you can give me five minutes to put my groceries in the house, I’ll give you a lift back there. Or—” Or you could come over to my place, call the rental car company, have ’em tow the vehicle while you stay and have a swim in the pool, stay all night, stay for a week, stay forever . . .
“Will you have dinner with me?” Savannah asked.
That was it. That was the question that he should have asked her.
He had to clear his throat so the words could come out. “I’d love to.”
She actually looked relieved—as if there was a snowball’s chance in hell he’d turn her down. “There’s a restaurant at the hotel that’s supposed to be wonderful—”
“At the Del?” She wanted to have dinner with him at the freaking Del? That place was pure gourmet—five stars on a scale of one to four. “Uh, Savannah, you know, we’re not exactly dressed for the Del.”
“Well, of course I’d have to change—”
Oh, man, he didn’t want to go to the Del and sit there all starched and uncomfortable. And while he was all for her taking off the clothes she was wearing, he didn’t want her putting on anything else.
“Honey, you’re going to have to do more than change. You have to hose yourself down. You’ve got grease,
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