Page 10 of Only Be Mine

“Cate,” he called, already moving toward me, “can I give you a ride? My truck’s around the corner.”

I looked at the ruined heel. Then at the length of sidewalk between me and home. Then at him.

Every stubborn bone in my body screamed no.

My ankle screamed please for the love of God, yes.

I exhaled. “Okay. Yeah. A ride would be great.”

He murmured something soft to Baby and slid an arm around my waist before I could protest. His hand was warm and steady.

My pulse was… not.

“Just go with it,” he said quietly, like he could tell I was already overthinking it.

Baby hopped into the truck without being told, plopping down in the middle of the bench seat like this was a daily routine. John helped me up next, smiling as he shut the door.

“What am I doing?” I whispered.

Baby tilted her head at me, like same, girl.

John climbed in and reached across me. My heart tripped - until he opened the glovebox and pulled out a tiny tube of glue.

“Let me see your shoe,” he said.

I blinked. “You’re going to fix it?”

He held out his hand.

I slipped the shoe off, suddenly feeling ridiculous. “This isn’t going to work.”

He dabbed glue on the broken heel, pressed it together with practiced confidence, and after a moment, he handed it back. “Give it a tug.”

I tugged. It was solid.

“What is that stuff?”

“Fake nail glue,” he said, shrugging like that was a perfectly normal thing for a man to carry. “It’s great for architectural models.”

I stared at him. Strong jaw. Messy hair. Warm eyes. The urge to stare longer was obnoxious - and very present.

“So,” I said, focusing very seriously on my repaired shoe, “does this happen often?”

He laughed. It was bright, easy, and something in my chest loosened. “No. Just… comes in handy.”

“Okay,” I said quietly. “That’s actually impressive.”

He grinned. “Glad I could help.”

Baby barked, clearly claiming partial credit.

“Baby and I were heading to lunch,” he said. “Want to join us?”

“The dog too?”

“Well… yeah.”

I stared at him. At the dog. Back at him.