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I’m contemplating calling some kind of taxi or rideshare to transport me that final mile to my apartment when two people come around the house I’m parked in front of.
And one of them walks straight toward me.
Chapter Three
Avery
THE GUY AT the curb straightens when he notices me approaching. He almost looks scared, but that’s ridiculous. I’m not a large human. Who would be scared ofme? Yet the closer I get, the more it feels like this guy is doing everything he can not to turn and run.
“Hey, need some help?” I say long before I reach him, hoping to set him at ease.
“Yeah, I think so,” he says.
I take that as a cue that I can get closer. Once I step off the sidewalk and into the street with the stranger, I notice how much taller than me he is. The streetlights turn his rich brown eyes almost golden behind his glasses. Dark stubble sits like a shadow on his brown cheeks, and his deep black hair sweeps back from his forehead.
Well, lucky me. If I have to be helping a stranger when I’d rather be snuggled in bed, at least he’s a gorgeous stranger.
“Car trouble?” I say.
He startles, like he forgot I was there and is surprised to find me beside him. “Oh, yeah. I mean, I think so,” he says. “I don’t know. It made some weird noises and then gave up on me.”
His eyes sweep up and down me, but with my high ponytail and choice of clothing, I’m not exacting giving “grease monkey” right now.
“Sorry, I don’t know anything about cars,” I say, confirming his assumptions. “Do you need to use a phone?”
“No, I have one,” he says. “I just don’t have anyone to call. You wouldn’t know of an auto shop that’s open around here, would you?”
“Not at this time of night. You won’t be able to get anyone until morning.”
The stranger heaves a huge sigh and slams his hood shut, but he seems more defeated than angry.
“Great,” he grumbles. “A mile from my apartment and I break down.”
I can hear Mia, and my brother, for that matter, telling me I’m going to get axe murdered for doing this, but the stranger broken down in front of my house is so sad that all my Boyfriend Café instinctskick in all at once.
“You know,” I say, “I live right here. I don’t have a car, but I do have a spare bedroom. You can crash and then call someone first thing in the morning to fix your car.”
The stranger has his hands planted on the roof of his car, his head hanging between his shoulders. When he glances over at me, some of that pitch black hair has fallen across his forehead, like he’s the windswept protagonist of a movie or something. I can’t pretend even in my own head that that look isn’t a large part of the reason I want him to accept my offer.
“Really?” he says. He seems to study me, those golden brown eyes sharper all of a sudden. I don’t hate the attention, not when it’s coming from a handsome stranger.
“Really,” I say.
“I didn’t think people did that kind of thing out here,” he says.
“What? Help each other?”
“Let strangers into their homes. Isn’t that dangerous in cities?”
I burst into laughter before I can stop myself. “Montridge isn’t a city. And even if it was, look around you. Not exactly a frightening place.”
I wave at the residential homes and tall oaks. How anyone could be scared of a place like this is beyond me. When the college empties out during breaks, the population is mostly geriatric.
“Anyway,” I say, “you don’t have too many otheroptions, do you? I guess you could get a rideshare, but it’s going to be super expensive, and you probably want to save that cash for your car. This way, you can wake up in the morning, call whatever shop is open, and get them out here first thing without having to travel back and forth.”
“I…”
The guy seems reluctant, so I step even closer and stick out my hand.
