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“I don’t know.” He wouldn’t even look at her.
She dipped her gaze to the pink roses she’d settled onto the floorboard, and had held still with her ankles for the drive. He was only there for a minute, but he’d brought her flowers at the hospital twice?
The vision of him holding his hands out, drawing fire away from her car, flashed across her mind and made it hard to stay in the here and now. She had to have taken a knock on the head, but she didn’t feel any tenderness or bruising. Why else would she have been unconscious for two days?
She felt as if she was missing a chunk of time, and like her memories were blurry, as if they were being viewed from under murky water. And the memories she did have didn’t make any sense, so her brain must’ve been coping in some strange way—making up stories to fill in the gaps, perhaps.
“I’ll be right back. Text me if you change your mind and want anything.”
“How would I text you? I don’t have your number.”
“Oh.” She frowned. “Right.” She swayed a little and gripped the door to steady herself.
“You good?” he asked.
“Just maybe a little overwhelmed, or something,” she said in as cheery a voice as she could muster. “I’ll be right back.”
She made her way toward the gas station entrance, and the sound of a shutting door behind her filled her senses. She turned to find Wreck reaching for the door for her.
“You don’t have to do that,” she said awkwardly.
He pulled it open and waited, but she hesitated going in. “I just don’t really want you thinking I expect that from anyone. I can open my own doors.”
Another wave of heat rocketed against her. Why was she having hot flashes? She swayed a little again and he moved to catch her elbow, but stopped himself just before he touched her skin. “Go on,” he rumbled, tilting his head toward the inside of the gas station.
She nodded jerkily and muttered, “Thank you,” then made her way back to the candy section. This part, she didn’t want to rush. The candy aisle was her happy place. Wreck veered off in a different direction, so she had time and space to try and think more clearly. She looked in his direction once, twice. On the third glance, he appeared in the auto aisle and studied the containers of oil. Maybe his truck needed an oil change. He stood there studying the options, giving her the perfect profile view of him. He was very tall, and very strong. Probably had the physique of a model under his T-shirt. He slid his gaze right to her. She yelped and jerked back into the part of the aisle that hid her from him, and then tried her best to choose a candy…or four.
“Sweet tooth?” he asked, but when she searched the aisle, he wasn’t beside her. Instead, he was in the next aisle over, looking at her from over the top of the candy racks.
“Yes, but only for gas station treats,” she admitted.
His dirty-blond brows drew down slightly and he walked away, only to round the endcap and saunter right up next to her to look at the options. “Why?”
“Sentimental reasons, I guess. When I was a kid, we had this old push-mower and an acre of weeds back behind our house. Every Saturday I would mow the acre with that push-mower, and my sister would take care of all the landscaping around the house. So, for allowance for doing the yard work, my dad would give us three dollars each on Fridays. When he picked us up from school, he would take us straight to a gas station nearby, and my sister and I would have three whole dollars each to blow on treats. We would spend half an hour choosing. That was the one rule. We weren’t allowed to rush each other.”
When she looked up at him, his lips were curved up just slightly in what looked like a smile. Her heart beat faster. Even the sunglasses couldn’t hide how hot he was.
“Why didn’t your family come and visit you in the hospital?” he asked.
The question surprised her. She shifted her weight and stared at the colorful section of chewy candies. “My sister visited a lot. She works in the hospital. You might have just missed her. She’s a nurse there.”
“And your parents?”
She shrugged, just as she had when he’d asked if they were local. “Crucial question, do you prefer chocolate-based candies, or sour ones? Or chewy ones?”
“Nice subject change.”
“How about you tell me your real name, and what happened when you were sixteen to change your name to Wreck.Then I’ll tell you my parental sob story, and we can sit around and have a pity party together.”
“Ew.”
She snorted, and grabbed a package of Giant Chewy SweeTARTS. “Exactly. I prefer happy stuff. Do you like the yellow ones?”
“I don’t mind yellow,” he said with a shrug.
“Great, because yellow is my least favorite of all the candies. Now that I know they won’t go to waste, I’m getting Skittles too.”
He huffed a sigh, and leaned down just enough to grab a shareable-sized package of Starbursts.
