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“I’d say you can borrow it, but I don’t think it’s your size.”
He dropped the garment like it was made of molten lava and quickly shoved it into the pile. “Do you own anything that isn’t in the trunk?”
She shrugged. “A few things.”
“Unbelievable,” he mumbled under his breath as he continued to battle the pile to get to the donut. “I thought I told you to stay in the car.”
“I thought I’d be more helpful here.”
Enzo had always preferred to do things on his own, be the person who helped without wanting anything in return, but Cami wasn’t his sister or brothers who let him get away with that nonsense.
“I don’t need your help.”
She shrugged, unconvinced. “You might.”
“I won’t.”
“We’ll see.”
She watched as he retrieved the donut and did her best to keep her opinions to herself, though, he could have easily tossed everything in the backseat and out of the way, but she didn’t want to be accused of micromanaging, so she kept her lips zipped.
He managed to free the donut and placed it on the ground while he fished out the jack. He brought both over to the flat tire and got right to work.
Cami didn’t know much about changing a tire, but she remembered a conversation, or maybe a movie, that mentioned the jack needed to go under the frame because it was the strongest part of the car.
“Make sure you put that under the frame.”
He stopped what he was doing and glanced at her, piercing her with an ice blue glare.
“What?” she asked innocently when he didn’t say anything.
“I know how to jack a car up.”
“Just making sure.” She bent down, eyes on his movements, and making mental notes in case she was ever in this predicament again. Hopefully she wouldn’t be, but if she was, she wouldn’t need this knight in cranky pants to come and rescue her.
His hands stopped moving, and he glanced up at her. “Must you be right on top of me?”
“I’m just trying to learn,” she said. “Don’t mind me.”
“It’s kind of hard when you’re so close.”
“Why? Do I make you nervous?” She fluttered her eyelashes when he looked at her.
“No,” he deadpanned, and any amusement she was finding had been shot down.
“Okay, Mr. Crabby, I’ll just stand back here.” She motioned to the jack. “As you were.”
Enzo didn’t spare any time, jacking the car up with ease like he’d done it a million times before. Once the car was jacked up, he walked over to his Jeep and opened the back.
Curiosity had her following him. “What are you doing?” she asked and leaned against the quarter panel.
“You didn’t have a tire iron in your trunk—or youdid, and I couldn’t find it beneath all the crap.”
“What’s a tire iron?”
He held up a silver T-shaped tool.
“Oh! That thing. I have one. Somewhere.” The last time she had seen it was when she was searching for her running sneakers.
