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  “Hi, Callie.” Jose held his hand out to her, his smile bright. He was a handsome man with light brown skin, almost the same color of a gingerbread cookie, and deep, soulful brown eyes. He was a good head shorter than Everett and less imposing too—despite his sleeve tattoos and the spider tat on his neck.

  Or he’s less imposing because he doesn’t make your heart race.

  Callie took his hand with a firm squeeze. “It’s nice to meet you, Jose.”

  “Callie is a little strapped and was wondering about a payment plan for two tires. I can vouch for her.”

  It was on the tip of her tongue to tell Everett that she could speak for herself, but Jose’s raised eyebrows and sly expression stopped her. Why did he look so amused? His gaze shifted between them, and her cheeks flamed as she realized that Jose probably thought they were sleeping together.

  “Yeah, sure. We can work something out. What are the dimensions? I’ll check out what we’ve got in stock.” He held up a notepad and pen that he’d pulled from his pocket.

  Everett rattled off her tire size, surprising her. How did he remember all that? She had issues remembering her social security number, which she’d been reciting since birth.

  “Make and model? Year?” Jose asked.

  “A two thousand four Jeep Wrangler.”

  “All right, just hang tight.”

  Jose headed into the back, leaving Everett and Callie alone.

  “He thinks we’re . . . involved,” Callie hissed.

  Everett glanced down at her, and she would have had to be blind to miss the unholy twinkle in his eyes. “So?”

  “It’s not true.”

  “Don’t worry. Jose doesn’t gossip.”

  Callie spluttered. “It’s not about the gossip, it’s that . . . I don’t want or need a boyfriend.”

  “Okay.”

  His reasonable answer, followed by a nonchalant shrug, irked her for some reason. Had she read him wrong? Was he just this nice guy who helped out stranded women on a regular basis? Was she freaking out for no reason?

  Neither of them said another word, and when Jose came back, she was thankful for the diversion.

  “Okay, I got your tires, and here is the cost,” Jose said, handing her a receipt. “Think you can pay them off by December first?”

  Two months? That was very generous. “Yes, thank you.”

  “Awesome. I’ll bring them up. I’m assuming you two can handle changing them?”

  “Yeah, I’ve got it. Thanks, man,” Everett said.

  Everett and Jose did some kind of bro hug, and Jose disappeared once again.

  “You two seem close,” Callie said.

  “Yeah, we grew up together. We both had it rough, although he had it worse than me.”

  Callie wanted to ask, but Jose and another man appeared pushing two tires up front before helping get them outside. The rain was still coming down, but the thunder was just a distant rumble.

  When the tires were loaded, Everett and Callie jumped back into the truck. Ratchet met her with wet kisses, and she pushed him off with a laugh. When he finally settled down, he actually lay down, his slobbery mouth on her legs.

  “Geez, I keep forgetting what a big son of a bitch he is. How much does he weigh?” Everett said as he pulled out of the parking lot.

  Callie stroked Ratchet’s head and velvety ears, and the warm calm only his love could bring spread through her. “He was a hundred sixty-four pounds at his last veterinary appointment.”

  Everett whistled. “What made you want such a big dog?”

  Callie’s hand stilled, settling on Ratchet’s head. It wasn’t really his size that had drawn her; it was something she’d read online about Anatolians being loyal and protective, known for going up against animals three times their size to keep their herds safe. Baby, her poor mutt, despite knowing something was wrong with Tristan, had been only forty pounds. No doubt, her size and age had made it impossible to defend herself. She worried about Ratchet, but he was strong.

  And his strength had been what she needed.

  “I actually just saw a picture of the breed in the paper and fell in love. Besides, big dogs are more intimidating than purse dogs.”

  “That’s true, but whom do you want intimidate?”

  You? She couldn’t say that though, not out loud. Partly because she couldn’t bear to be rude to him after he’d helped her out of a jam.

  But also because she liked him. Probably more than she should.

  “I don’t know. Purse snatchers? Burglars?”

  “Ah, so he’s like your buffer.”

  “Yes.”

  “It must be hard,” Everett said. He reached out to crank up the heater, and she watched his hands. They were big hands with long fingers, and she suddenly wondered if they were rough or soft.

  Stop thinking about his hands, for fuck’s sake! What happened to keeping your distance and not getting involved? Fantasizing about his hands is pretty damn intimate.

  “What must be hard?”

  “Feeling like you have to keep everyone at a distance.”

  His words stunned her. “I don’t feel like that. I have friends.”

  “Sorry. I guess I misread the situation.”

  But Callie could tell that he didn’t believe that, and his arrogance irritated her. “Look, you don’t know me or what makes me tick, so stop assuming you do.”

  EVERETT DIDN’T SAY another word as he drove, taking a different route so he could pull up behind her Jeep. He’d obviously struck a nerve with her, and despite every gentlemanly fiber of his body telling him to apologize, he couldn’t.

  Because he knew he was right about Callie. Even if she wouldn’t admit it.

  Hell, he’d been there. When his wife left him, he’d been hurting from the loss of Robbie and then his friendship with Robbie’s wife, Cara. He’d spent so much time alone that he started to think it was better that way. Even when he’d come home, he’d kept his brother and father at a distance, insisting he was fine. Therapy had helped him realize he needed to reconnect with the world so he could move on.

  It was obvious from the way Callie behaved that she’d had a rough past. But instead of reaching out, she seemed to prefer being on her own.

  The rain was barely drizzling when they arrived, and Everett opened the door to get out.

  “I’m sorry I snapped at you.” Her husky voice sounded strained, like the words had cost her.

  Never one to hold a grudge, he smiled. “You were right. I was assuming, which makes me an ass.”

  Everett heard her soft laugh and closed the door behind him with a smile. He went to work on the tire, ignoring the sound of his truck door opening and closing and her sweet voice as she talked to her dog. The Jeep dipped and when she came around the front alone, he figured she’d put Ratchet inside already.

  “I’ve almost got it.”

  “Thank you. This was really nice of you, especially when I haven’t given you a reason to be.”

  Everett looked up at her, wiping the rain off his face so he could meet her gaze. “You seem to assume that just because people are kind to you, they want something. Sometimes people help because it’s the right thing to do.”

  Her gaze shifted away, and he went back to tightening the nuts on the wheel. He’d said his piece, but knew he wasn’t going to convince Callie with words that his intentions were honorable.

  He had to prove it to her.

  When he finished, he released the jack and gathered up all the tools, sliding them back in the spare tire kit. “I’ll put this and the new tire in the back, and you’ll be good to go. I’ll haul this one off to the dump for you.”

  She knelt down next to him and took the kit from him, their fingers brushing. Despite the chill of their skin, heat sizzled between them, sending a shot of awareness down his throat. Her blonde curls were wet and falling out of her messy top knot, and drops of rain were clinging to her cheeks. Before he could stop himself, he traced the pad of his thumb across one, c
atching the cool droplet on his skin. Her amber eyes widened, and he dropped his hand, cursing his impulse.

  “Sorry. You had something on your cheek.”

  Callie cleared her throat and stood up. “It’s okay.”

  He climbed to his feet and couldn’t help wondering if she’d felt something too. Was that why she kept pulling away?

  But if she didn’t want him, why was he pushing?

  Because she doesn’t treat you like a defective puppy she’d have to fix.

  Grabbing her spare tire from the back of his truck, he slid it into the back of her Jeep. She stood back as he closed the door, and he could tell she was nervous—her hands kept twisting.

  “Well, you’re all set. You should get home and change out of those wet clothes. If you get sick, I’ll have to listen to one of those ridiculous weekend deejays, and they play nothing but crap.”

  Everett started to head back to his truck, but she caught his hand. “Hey.”

  Just the touch of her hand sent his heart from a trot to a gallop. He loved the way her soft skin wrapped around his.

  Facing her, he waited, afraid to move a muscle and scare her off.

  But she moved so fast, he wasn’t prepared when her lips brushed the scarred side of his face. He stiffened as the warmth seeped through his cheek, his stomach twisting up as a thousand thoughts and insecurities made him wince. Had the roughness repelled her? Why hadn’t she picked the untouched side?

  “Thank you. For being kind.”

  Callie dropped his hand and ran to her car, as if afraid he would come after her. As she started it and pulled forward, he was finally able to move again, backing up a ways to watch her disappear down the road.

  Everett’s hand came up to rest against his cheek, and he realized that he’d lied to Callie when he said he didn’t want anything from her.

  He wanted everything.

  Pulling his phone from his pocket as he headed back to his truck, he called Eddie Kendall, one of his publicity managers.

  “This is Eddie.”

  “Hey, Eddie, it’s Everett.”

  “Hey, boss. You outside? It sounds like you’re in a wind tunnel.”

  “I’m standing in a thunderstorm,” he said, opening his truck door and climbing inside. “Better?”

  “Yeah, I can hear ya. So what’s up? Did you get the new program stats?”

  “Yeah, and they looked great, but listen. I’ve been thinking about that interview you’re doing Thursday on the Kat Country morning show. I don’t have anything going on and can take it, if you want.”

  The line was dead quiet for a minute. “Um, okay. Sure, Everett, but . . . why? You never do interviews.”

  Everett rubbed his cheek where Callie’s lips had been. “It’s personal.”

  Chapter Five

  TWO DAYS LATER, Everett walked into the Kat just before seven in the morning and smiled at the young man behind the desk.

  “Everett Silverton. I’m here to talk about Stateside Support.”

  “Oh, yeah,” the kid said, standing up with his hand out. “Pleasure to meet you, sir. I’m Dalton. Callie’s in the booth waiting for you.”

  Everett shook Dalton’s hand and liked his grip. “Good to meet you too.” Something about the way the kid held himself made him add, “Have you served?”

  “Not me, but my older brother and my father were both in the army. I would have joined, but my mom had a fit backward,” Dalton said. His ears turned red as he added, “Something about her baby not being a military man.”

  “Something tells me you weren’t disappointed, though,” Everett said with a smile.

  “To be honest, no. I believe in our military, but I’d rather not spend my life dodging bullets and bombs—” Dalton cut himself off suddenly, stammering, “I’m . . . I’m . . . sorry. I . . . I . . . didn’t . . . didn’t mean anything . . . ”

  “What? You don’t want to look as pretty as me?” he asked. Dalton paled, and his skin took on a bluish sheen Everett didn’t like. “Hey, I was just kidding. Lighten up, and don’t worry about offending my delicate sensibilities. I’ve got a thick hide.”

  Everett was used to people saying the wrong thing around him and then making things worse by rambling.

  “Thanks, sir,” Dalton said, taking a deep breath. “I’ll take you back.”

  Everett followed, his heart beating faster the closer he got to seeing Callie. He rarely did publicity for the organization, usually leaving it to Pam or Eddie, who handled their social media and fund-raisers, but the chance of sitting in a small room with just her had been too good to pass up.

  Besides, if he was going to really go for it with Callie, he needed to be completely honest. Which meant telling her that he’d figured out who she was when they first met. And that he was Rhett.

  Would she freak out? He hoped not. She had enough of an emotional force field around her without dropping this bomb on her. He was hoping that once she realized who he was and that he was harmless, maybe she’d take a chance on getting to know him better.

  And hopefully not think you’re a liar . . .

  Dalton stopped outside a door with an ON AIR sign lit up above it. The minute the light went off, he knocked.

  “Come on in,” Callie called.

  Dalton opened the door and waved Everett inside.

  “Your interview is here,” Dalton said, and Everett stepped into the room.

  Callie’s eyes widened, and she looked down at her desk. Everett didn’t know if she was just surprised or horrified, but his heart sank.

  Stupid idea, Silverton.

  Callie seemed to recover, though, and said, “I thought I was interviewing Eddie Kendall.”

  “I offered to take the interview.” Everett held his hand out as Ratchet came out from under the table to sniff it.

  “I see.” Callie reached up to adjust her headband. Everett had a feeling he made her nervous, or maybe she just didn’t like surprises. Either way, she was fidgeting something fierce. “Well, have a seat, and we’ll have a little warm-up chat before we go back on air.”

  Now, why does she have to make it sound like you’re about to pull her teeth out?

  He sat down in the chair across from her and picked up the headset on the table. “So, Callie, where are you from originally?”

  One of her eyebrows lifted. “I thought I’d ask the questions.”

  Why was she being so cold? After the tire and the kiss on the cheek, he’d thought she might be pleased to see him.

  “I thought we were gonna chat,” he said. He grinned, hoping to ease the strange tension. “Doesn’t that mean the conversation goes both ways?”

  She didn’t smile back, and for a second, he thought she was going to kick him out; she looked so disgruntled.

  “I’m from California,” she said grudgingly.

  “Huh.” He bit back a laugh just as she looked at him sharply. Man, she was on edge.

  “What does ‘huh’ mean?”

  “Nothing. I’m just surprised they play country music in California,” Everett said. “I thought you all drove electric cars and listened to Depeche Mode.”

  “Ha-ha, you’re a funny guy,” she said, and he could have sworn he saw a small smile.

  “How come you don’t smile?” he asked abruptly.

  She frowned at him. “I smile.”

  “No, I think the most I’ve seen is your mouth twitch a little like this.” He demonstrated, stretching his lips a little, and she glared at him.

  “Maybe I don’t like you.”

  Everett stared at her for a moment, hostility surrounding her like a shield. What the hell had happened in the last few days to make her want to push him away? Just when he thought he was making headway with her, she threw up walls and emotional blockers like she was Fort Knox. She was defensive, rude, and if she’d been anyone else, he would have already walked out the door.

  But he didn’t believe that she really wanted him to leave or to stay away. He just had to figure out how to
get her to let her guard down.

  “Me? But you called me a hero. Everybody likes heroes.”

  She coughed into her hand, and he knew she was covering a laugh. Satisfaction curled through him and suddenly, he sat forward, whispering, “I think you like me a whole lot.”

  She stilled, her gaze wide and nearly panicked. “Why would you think that?”

  “Because you wouldn’t fight so hard to be cool if you didn’t,” he said, wanting to crow when she blushed hard. Throwing her off balance was more telling than anything. When she was caught off guard, she revealed everything.

  Especially that she did like him. So why was she fighting it?

  “Whatever. We’re about to go on air.”

  “Wait,” he said. She paused and gave him an impatient look. It almost made him lose his nerve, but he knew they would have no chance if she found out later.

  “Look, I feel like I need to tell you that . . . well, that first day when we met outside Hall’s Market, I didn’t know how to tell you who I was. And especially not after we met on the trail—”

  “What do you mean? Who are you?”

  “Rhett. You can call me Rhett.”

  Callie paled. “What?”

  “I’m the guy who’s been calling the station at the same time every morning for a year. I didn’t know how to just come out and say, ‘Oh, by the way, I’m the dork who tried to pick you up over the phone.’ I just figured I’d tell you when the time was right.”

  “Hey, Callie, we need to get this show on the road,” Dave said over the intercom.

  Everett held Callie’s gaze, one that said she’d rather gut him and throw him in the Snake River. “Sure. Go ahead and count us down.”

  As numbers sounded in his headset, he tried to talk to her again. “Look, I have no idea what you must be thinking, but I wasn’t trying to pull anything. I was going to tell you. I was just afraid to scare you off.”

  Callie raised her coffee cup to her lips and didn’t say anything.

  Trying to break the ice that had formed between them, he said, “Considering how good you look glaring at me, I bet you’re even more beautiful when you really smile.” Callie missed her mouth, and coffee spilled down the front of her shirt. Everett was up out of his chair and rushing to her side before he could think about it. “Are you okay? Did you burn yourself?”