Stubborn woman. It sounded like something his sister Leigh would have done, rather than being sensible and waiting for help in a dry car. He stayed silent and focused on the torn up grass and mud beneath the tires. Shaking his head, he replied, “I can pull your car out, no problem. Are you sure you’re not hurt?” He focused on her red-rimmed eyes. Had she been crying?
“Other than feeling silly, I’m fine. I hate to be a bother. What can I do to help?” She placed her hands on her hips and turned to frown at the car, as if she were ready to move it herself.
“Not a thing. Why don’t you sit in the truck with Kylie? I’ll have you out in no time.”
The outer corners of her pretty eyes crinkled, and she frowned at him. “No, really, I can help. If you have a tow strap I can—”
“Nope. Absolutely not.” He took her trembling hand in his and pulled her up and onto the wet pavement. She trailed behind him. Even irritated, she was a pretty thing, all curvy, sexy lines and toned muscle. He opened the passenger door to help her inside. Her bunching skirt flashed him a peek of her smooth thighs as the damp material clung to her skin.
He forced his libido into submission, telling himself he had to get this mess sorted and get on with Kylie’s evening. It didn’t matter how delicious their damsel in distress was or how badly he ached to smooth his hand over her heart-shaped ass.
She set her foot in the floor of his truck, tried to climb in then stopped as if she didn’t quite have the strength to pull herself up into his beast. Readjusting her foot, she prepared to try again.
“Still got the post-accident shakes, huh? It’s okay. Let me help you.” Great. Now my voice is the low and husky one. He grabbed her tiny waist and lifted her up and in.
Caught off guard, she put her hand on his shoulders to steady herself. “Um. Yeah. Thanks.” She bit her bottom lip and the urge to lean in and suck it into his own mouth punched him in the gut.
I’ve been too long without female companionship.
“Are we gonna yank that sucker outta there, daddy?” Eager and excited, Kylie chimed in as he shut the door.
Scratch that. He’d been too long without adult female company.
Wishing he could be shocked, he stuck his head in the open window. “Kylie Jane, where’d you hear talk like that?” He never knew whether to laugh at or strangle his offspring.
The sweet scent of woman and summer rain washed over him. Thanks to his daughter’s mouth, he’d stuck his head right into Cara’s space. “That’s what Mr. Cwark said when Gwampa and I helped him with his old twailer. It had fat tires and was stuck in the mud.”
He thought for a moment and deciphered his daughter’s speech. “Do you mean flat tires?”
“Yeah. That’s what I said. Fat tires.”
“It was awfully nice of you and your grandfather to help Mr. Clark. I’m Cara. It’s nice to meet you.” Cara nodded her head at him in a get to work, while I distract the kiddo gesture before she turned to his daughter. “How old are you?”
In a well-honed habit, he weighed the need to chastise his daughter against the need to move on to the next task—getting Cara’s car out. The car won. He turned his back on the females making friendly chatter and went about hooking a tow strap to the back of her car.
“I’m six. How old are you?” The little imp in the car seat behind her spoke slowly as if she concentrated saying each word correctly.
“I’m thirty-two.” Cara turned back a bit more and held out her hand.
“My name’s Kylie. What kind of ice cweam do you like? I want vanilla with spwinkles.” Kylie’s small, slightly sticky hand gripped hers for a quick handshake.
“Chocolate is my favorite, but I like vanilla, too.” Cara watched out the back window as Joe MacDonald opened a lid on the toolbox attached to the truck bed. A dark blue baseball cap shaded his eyes as he looked down, but the sight of the dark chocolate irises specked with golden flecks remained with her. Deep, warm, and far too observant. Hair a shade darker than his daughter’s chestnut curls peeked out from beneath the hat, and she guessed he was a couple of weeks late on his haircut.
He dug around and pulled something out. Then, with long easy strides, he went back to her car. Tall and lean hipped, he walked across the uneven ground in an easy, effortless stride. Faded jeans and gym shoes had never looked so good on a man. When he bent over to hook the strap to the car and the faded denim of his jeans cupped his ass, her mouth watered. His sleeveless, navy blue t-shirt displayed muscled shoulders and defined, hard arms.
Kylie chattered on, telling her a story about a bird and a squirrel, and Cara nodded, all the while watching the little girl’s father. He double-checked everything and returned to the truck and the front view stole her breath again. He walked with a seemingly unconscious, subtle swagger. Long-limbed and loose, each step he took made her think about things she’d long been without.
A physical relationship.
Okay, that was her being polite. She meant sex. Hot, sweaty, earth-shattering sex.
He came around to his door and climbed in.
“Are we ready, Daddy?” Cara pulled her gaze from Joe’s hands on the gearshift and steering wheel to consider his adorable daughter. She imagined that, if Joe let Kylie out of her car seat, she’d be out there trying to pull the car out herself.
“We’re ready, pickle.” When he smiled and shook his head once in amusement, Cara decided she was done for. Joe MacDonald’s smile short-circuited her brain. Both her head and her very interested body were telling her that he was the one.
Him. The. One.
What was she thinking? No. She was far too practical and levelheaded to fall in love, or even lust at first sight. Even as incredibly delicious as Joe was, he had a daughter and therefore likely a wife, or ex-wife. Not that there was anything wrong with that, but even if he wasn’t married, he was likely attached. He probably had to fight the women off and bolt his doors at night.
The sound of a revving engine brought her out of her inner debate. What in the world? He winked at her, letting her know he was putting on a show for Kylie’s sake.
“Let’s do it!” She looked behind her just in time to see two little fists punch the air.
Cara couldn’t help it; she laughed. Kylie was too precious.
Despite the excitement in the truck’s cab, Joe eased on the gas and the truck crawled forward at a snail’s pace. She watched the tow strap pull tight then, with a lurch, her car made a little hop back up onto the road. Joe stopped his truck and put it into park.
“Did you get it? I knew you would!” Kylie craned her neck this way and that, trying to see beyond her car seat’s high back.
“We got it, pickle. Sit tight a few more minutes while we take a look, okay?”
“Then we’ll get ice cweam?” Hope radiated in bright waves from her smile.
“Yes, then we’ll get ice cream.” He opened his door and stepped down with one long, muscled leg. The denim stretched tight over his thighs. Was the material a little threadbare up near— “Cara? Let’s go take a look. Okay?” He wore a shit-eating grin that said he totally knew where she’d been looking.
“Sure. I’ll take a look and let you know how your daddy did, okay, Kylie?” Grateful for the distraction, she looked to the little girl.
“Okay, but I know he did good. My daddy knows how to do everything, except make pwetty bwaids. He twies to make my hair pwetty, but his hands awe too big.” She said this with the confident authority that only a secure and well-loved child could. The thought of a man who would even attempt to braid his daughter’s hair did strange things to Cara’s belly.
She smiled at Kylie and exited the truck. Joe waited for her at the car’s bumper. When she was almost there, he crooked a finger at her.
“We have a problem.” He pointed to the passenger side wheel well and pulled his phone from a clip at his waist.
Dismayed, without a single thought other than fixing the problem, she turned and bent over to get a closer look. Part of t
he fender had crumpled and pushed in against her tire. She leaned over a little more so she could grip the metal and pulled. It didn’t budge. She hadn’t really expected it to, but it didn’t stop her from being disappointed.
She put her hands on her knees and looked again.
“Hey, Mike. How are you? I need a favor, if you’re not too busy,” Joe said from behind her.
A warm breeze ruffled her skirt, but the damp material stuck to her rear.
Shit. I’m wearing a skirt! A wet and transparent skirt! She rarely wore them anymore and had put it on only to make her mother happy.
She turned around to see Joe standing behind her with another of those devastating grins and zero shame as his eyes trailed over her from the bottom up.
“I’ll go check on Kylie.” She couldn’t remember the last time she flounced, but she was pretty sure that’s what she did on the way back to the truck. Exactly how much of my backside did I show him?
She thought back to when she’d dressed that morning and reviewed her clothing choices. Knowing she’d see her mother, she’d chosen simple, white boy shorts and a slip. For once, she was thankful for her mother’s lectures. Maybe it had served as an added layer of protection. Then again, if it hadn’t been for her mother, she’d likely be wearing cutoff jeans or nursing scrubs.
A good-looking man never made her lose her composure before. Maybe it was all the stress? Postponing the last semester of school had been a hard blow, but she hadn’t been given a choice, had she? Her mother needed long-term care and refused to leave her home. Betty Gregory might be difficult and stubborn on her best days, but she would always be her momma.
Better yet, she could blame everything on the storm.
She opened the truck door and leaned in. “How are you doing, little bit?”
“Fine. How much wonger?” Kylie’s enthusiasm had dimmed, and it looked as though she might be getting tired. She clutched a ragged stuffed frog in one hand, and her head rested on the side of the car seat.
“I’m not sure. We have a small problem. I dented my car, and it’s not drivable.”
“Daddy’ll fix it. He’s good at fixing people’s pwoblems. He’s a policeman.” She sounded out the word police with extra care.
Something thumped in the truck bed, so she looked back to see Joe had shut the toolbox. He came around to her side of the truck. “Mike’s a reliable tow truck driver. He’s on his way. I’m afraid if I try and tow you, we’ll do more damage than good. As soon as he gets here, we can be on our way.” Close, he leaned against the side of the truck, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Our way? I can’t ask you to take me home. You’ve already done too much, and you promised Kylie ice cream. I can ride with the tow truck driver.”
“Nope. Rick said you’re headed to Bourbon County, right? The body shop is back the way you came. They’re in opposite directions. Mike’ll take your car. Pickle and I’ll take you.”
Irritation washed over her. He’d decided everything and expected her to follow his lead. Sure, his solution made sense, but she hated being told what to do.
“It’s getting late. I don’t want Kylie to miss her treat. She’s been so good.” The little girl had. She might be full of energy, but she listened well.
“You’re going with us.” He turned around and walked back to her car, as if the matter were settled. End of story. She watched his ass for an appreciative moment then shook off her lust-fueled daze. She reminded herself that she hated bossy men.
For some reason, he couldn’t resist prodding Cara. Normally he wasn’t quite so pushy, but something about the petite redhead made it impossible for him to behave. Red? Blond? The pretty shade seemed to be a little of both. It fell to her shoulders in a straight, carefree, cut. She was a tiny thing, with curvy hips and smallish breasts.
When she bent over to inspect the damage to her car, he’d almost swallowed his tongue. Her skirt rose until he could see where the backs of her toned thighs met the sweet curves of her ass at very bottom edge of her white panties. Judging by her embarrassed blush when she faced him, he’d bet his last dollar it had been an accidental slip.
He parked the truck as Kylie squealed in delight. “Sprinkles!”
He’d been fooled by a pretty damsel in distress once before. He couldn’t call the fumble a true mistake because, in addition to the misery she’d wrought, Michelle had also given him his greatest treasure. Not a single day since she’d been born had gone by where Kylie hadn’t given him a reason to smile. Even on the days where he wanted to pull his hair out in frustration or give in to the fear that he couldn’t be everything Kylie needed, he was humbled by the gift of fatherhood.
The little stinker was his everything, which was why, no matter how sexy and sweet Cara Gregory appeared to be, he couldn’t take a chance on anything that might put Kylie’s tender heart at risk.
No matter how lonely he’d become.
He got out and opened his daughter’s door. Unbuckling her seatbelt, he smiled as she threw her arms up in the air so he could lift her up. Yes, she was getting a little big for their routine, but as long as she let him, he’d carry her or hold her hand. He suspected she’d outgrow their little habits before too long.
They met Cara at the sidewalk, and he set Kylie down. “My seat!” He heard the stomp-stomp-stomp of little boots as his daughter no doubt raced to her favorite outdoor table. He knew she’d be sitting under the faded umbrella swinging her feet, not caring in the least that her shorts were wet from the rain water puddled on the benches, but his eyes were locked on Cara’s.
“What’s your pleasure?” Her husky voice grabbed him by the throat with a silken, but unbreakable, grip. Heated desire crept through him until all he could think about was hearing her throaty cries as he ran his tongue up her neck. “Joe?”
He blinked.
“What flavor ice cream? My treat.” She tilted her head at him and grinned.
“No. I got it. This is our ritual.” He tried to tamp down his libido. As much practice as he had over the years, it had become easy. But now? He’d lost his willpower.
“Nope.” She echoed his earlier denial. She faced him with her hands on her hips and a sassy tilt to her head. “You’ve got about ten seconds to make your choice or I’m going to surprise you.”
“Strawberry.” He told himself his craving had nothing to do with the blush he’d seen on her cheeks after she’d nearly flashed him her backside.
Without another word, she walked away, and that damned skirt swished in her wake, taunting him.
She returned a few minutes later, loaded down with ice cream. She presented Kylie a double scoop of vanilla in a cup, and she must have requested extra sprinkles. His daughter’s eyes lit up at the sight. “Thank you!”
Cara handed him a cone piled high with strawberry. She met his gaze and he forgot what he’d been going to say. She sat beside Kylie beneath the umbrella then handed her a napkin. A trail of melting ice cream dripped down the side of Cara’s cone and she tilted her head to run her tongue along the seam where the ice cream met the cone. Spellbound, he watched as she turned her cone to repeat the process on the other side.
“What kind did you get, Cara?” Kylie sounded out her new friend’s name with concentration on each syllable, her voice breaking through his fascination with Cara’s tongue.
When Cara raised a napkin to wipe her mouth, he barely resisted offering to take care of the matter himself. With his own tongue.
“I couldn’t decide, so I went with one scoop of peanut butter cup and one scoop of chocolate. How’s yours?” She looked at Kylie as if she really wanted to hear the answer.
“It’s almost as good as cousin Katie’s homemade banilla.” Kylie scrunched up her nose and tried again. “Vanilla. She has a secret recipe.”
Cara nodded at his daughter. “Secret recipes are the best.” How’s your strawberry?” Pretty hazel eyes met his, and he realized he’d barely tasted his treat. He’d been too fixated on her delectable
mouth to notice his ice cream was melting as well.
Not thinking, he dipped his head to catch a trail of pink headed straight for his hand and swiped it with his tongue. Her desire softened expression sent lust rushing through him. Her lips parted, and all he could think about was how they would taste.
Cool ice cream and the sweet warmth of a beautiful woman.
He shifted in his seat as his jeans grew uncomfortable.
Her smile began soft and shy before it turned amused. “Um, you have ice cream on your chin.”
Chagrinned, he grabbed a napkin to wipe it off.
“Sometimes Daddy makes messes. He doesn’t mean to; he just has big hands.”
He turned to his daughter, who shoveled a bite of sprinkles with a pinch of ice cream for good measure into her mouth.
Cara leaned forward and pointed. “You missed a spot.” She looked down to the table, but all the napkins were gone, most of them balled up in Kylie’s fist. She paused for a beat then lifted her hand to sweep her thumb below the corner of his mouth.
Low and a little husky, her voice hummed over him. “Got it.”
Feet kicking in happiness, Kylie giggled. “He needs a keeper. That’s what Gramma says.”
He shook his head. As usual, he didn’t know whether to be amused or aggravated at his daughter, the parrot.
Cara laughed, and the sound gripped him by the balls. It was a damn shame he didn’t have the time or space for a woman in his life.
Chapter Two
Three weeks later
“Come on in, man. We’re waiting on one more member, and then we’ll get down to business.” As Joe entered Trent Dawson’s house, a feeling of déjà vu knocked him the gut. The last time he’d been invited to an impromptu meeting at Trent’s, they’d planned the rescue mission that brought Kate home.
Catching Cara: Dark Horse, Inc: Book 2 Page 2