frowned at her. “I don’t smoke, don’t drink enough to count, don’t cheat, don’t gamble—at least, not with money—and when I say I’ll do something, I do it. Like my degree—took me six years, but I did it.”
“And you don’t strike me as the academic sort.”
Winnie snorted. “We’re talkin’ early childhood education, not a doctorate in advanced physics. Or obscure English authors of the eighteenth century. Not that it was a walk in the park. You have no idea the psychology classes you have to take, just to teach elementary school.” She laughed again. “Little kids are so neat. And while I’m waiting on having my own—”
At her breath catch, Aidan’s head swung around. But she lifted one hand in a clear attempt to ward off his concern.
“Sorry, that kinda took me by surprise. So. Let’s talk about you.”
“You already know everyt’ing y’need to know.”
“If you mean that meeting with the lawyer nine years ago, I’m thinking an update’s probably in order.”
“And if your car hadn’t broken down, you would’ve left without your ‘update.’ And probably none the worse for not getting it.”
“True. But obviously I wasn’t meant to go home this morning.”
“It doesn’t necessarily follow we were meant to bond.”
“Ohmigosh. Was that an attempt at humor?”
“No.”
She laughed. And Aidan sighed, because deep down he wasn’t a bad person, either, just one who preferred his existence as complication-free as possible. So while he took some small pleasure in Winnie’s better mood, he took none whatsoever in…all the rest of it.
“And here we are,” he said, immensely grateful.
He pulled off the highway into the Auto Zone parking lot, fully aware of Winnie’s smirk. They got out of the truck, their doors slamming shut in rapid-fire succession, Winnie striking out across the lot a few feet ahead. Aidan hustled to catch up, barely noticing the flash of red parking lights, the roar of the SUV’s engine, a split second before the driver—clearly not paying attention—gunned the huge black monster backward.
“Jaysus!” he bellowed, hauling Winnie backward against his chest an instant before the tank-size vehicle would’ve flattened her. Bastard didn’t even slow down.
“Are you all right?” he said in Winnie’s ear, her heart pounding against his arm where he still held her fast across her ribs, her scent storming the gates of his self-preservation, and through the rush of adrenaline a memory whispered, over his skin, through his blood.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” she said on a rush of air. A beat passed. “You can let go now.”
He did; setting herself to rights—a tug here, an adjustment there—Winnie glared in the direction of the vanished car. “Dirtwad,” she muttered, then continued toward the entrance. Except she suddenly spun on Aidan and said, “You are such a phony,” and he said, “What?” and she said, with much gesticulating, “You might talk tough and all, do the whole I don’t give a damn about people routine, like that’s supposed to scare people off.” She yanked open the store’s door before he could do it for her. “Except anybody with two eyes in their head can see it’s all just a great big act.”
Inexplicably furious, Aidan grabbed Winnie’s arm as soon as they were inside. She whirled around, her expression a combination of irritation and curiosity. But fear? Not a bit of it.
“Believe me,” he snapped, his own heart pounding five times harder than hers had a moment ago, “I give a damn. About Robbie, about the people who matter to me. Just because I prefer to keep that circle small doesn’t mean I don’t care about the people who are in it.” He let her go. “Is that clear?”
Their gazes tangled for several seconds before, word-lessly, she headed toward the counter in back. And as she did, Aidan became acutely aware that every set of male eyes in the place veered to her like divining rods.
His forehead knotting, he tried desperately to see what they found so damned interesting and failed miserably. Yes, he supposed she had a way of moving that was somewhat…arresting. And what man in his right mind wouldn’t notice her hair, shiny as wet paint beneath the lights? Or the way her worn jeans cupped her legs and bottom below that soft as cream velvet jacket? But aside from that…Winnie was nothing extraordinary. Certainly not the kind of woman to make a man’s eyes bug out.
And certainly there was absolutely no reason whatsoever for the bizarre spike of jealousy whenever one of the local yokels gave her the eye.
Oddly, she had no problem with telling the balding, potbellied clerk exactly what they needed. To the man’s credit, he at least waited until Winnie’s gaze drifted elsewhere before looking to Aidan for a nod of confirmation. Then he vanished into the back, only to return moments later. With only the battery.
“Sorry, we don’t have the alternator in stock. But tell you what, let me see…” He started tapping on a computer keyboard in front of him. “Uh…yeah, I can get one of my Albuquerque stores to send one up tomorrow, if that’s okay. Or I can put it on hold if you want to drive on down there and pick it up yourself.”
“Damn,” Winnie muttered, then turned to Aidan. “I can’t possibly ask you to drive to Albuquerque. The round trip would take, what? Two hours, at least?”
“Probably three, this time of day.” Aidan gritted his back teeth. “But I don’t mind. Really.”
“Of course you mind, it would mean giving up most of your day. And then I wouldn’t be able to leave before late this afternoon, anyway. Call me crazy, but I’m not real big on driving through vast stretches of nothing after dark.” She turned to the clerk. “Any other supply stores in town?”
“Sure thing,” the very helpful clerk—clearly as spell-bound as every other male in the place—said, hauling a phone book up onto the counter. “Why don’t you go ahead and call around while I take care of those folks over there, then let me know what you decide, how’s that?”
With a huge sigh, Winnie pulled out her cell phone and started calling. Five minutes and as many phone calls later, she gave Aidan wide, spooked eyes.
Because, for reasons known only to God, there was not a single alternator that would fit her truck within fifty miles of Santa Fe.
One more day.
That much, she could handle, Winnie told herself as they headed back to Tierra Rosa, Annabelle panting hotly in her ear. Her skin prickled with the memory of those strong arms wrapped around her, the feel of warm, solid male chest against her back, and she thought, Okay, so it’s been a long time.
Of course, she reminded herself, Aidan had only been saving her life, it wasn’t like he wanted to hold her or anything, so it didn’t count. Her hormones snickered and said, Oh, believe me, honey…it counts.
Winnie hazarded a peek at his profile as they drove—the set jaw, the dour expression, the eyes focused straight ahead—and tried to figure out why in the name of all that was holy she was attracted to the man. Not in any logical kind of way, but on some very basic level that could really mess with her head if she let it.
Oh, sure, he was good-looking—if you were into the werewolf wannabe look—but that alone wasn’t enough to attract her to somebody. Anymore. Yeesh, she couldn’t even remember when she’d last gone stupid over a bunch of muscles and a cute smile. Not that Aidan’s smile—if he had one at all—was cute, although she dimly remembered that he’d sure smiled plenty when they’d first met, trying so hard to convince her he and June would be perfect parents for her baby…
Boom!
And that, boys and girls, was the sound of the reality boulder crashing into