Page 19 of The Second Dance
I glance at the deep gouges her tires are leaving in an already pitted lane. “You’re good?”
“Yup.”
“Doesn’t look like it.”
She lets out a deep breath, slumping back in her seat. “I’m just a little stuck, is all.”
“I see that.”
She climbs out of her car, slipping a little in the mud.
I resist the urge to reach out and steady her. “What are you doing out here, anyway? Am I allowed to ask?”
“I had to meet the surveyor.”
“And where’s he?”
She sighs again. “He left about forty-five minutes ago.”
I glance down at her legs. She’s wearing a skirt and delicate little ballet flats. They were probably pretty at one point. Right now, they’re caked in mud. “Interesting choice of footwear.”
“Well, Bo, I must have left my fishing waders back at the house.”
I laugh, circling around to the back of the car. Bracing my hands on the trunk, I bend down to push and am surprised to see a graceful pair of hands join mine. I stand up. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m going to help push.” She pushes a lock of hair out of her face, leaving a streak of mud on her cheek.
God damnit, she’s cute. “I need you to hit the gas.”
“Won’t you get covered in mud?”
I tilt my head. “Seems like that already happened.”
She bites her lip, trying to hide her amusement. “Oh gosh. How’d that happen?”
“Just get behind the wheel, smartass.”
She smiles all the way back to her car. It’s just a little car, and doesn’t take much to push it up and out of the muck.
Once her car is safely off the muddy lane, she climbs out of it and hesitantly comes closer, eying my muddy pants with chagrin. “Thanks for helping, Bo. I’m sorry about the mess.”
I glance down at myself and shrug. “That’s why I wear jeans. You should invest in a pair if you’re going to keep coming out here.”
Her eyebrows flick up playfully. “You don’t approve of the way I dress?”
“I definitely approve of the way you dress. But maybe don’t wear skirts if you’re going to play in the mud.”
She bites back a little smile. “I’ll take that into consideration.”
“And this damn car.” I glance down at it. “Next time, just borrow a truck.”
“From whom? You?”
“Yes, from me. Don’t look so surprised. We’re supposed to be collaborating on this damn bird thing, aren’t we?”
“Is that what you call our interactions up to now?”
“Just borrow a truck.” I say. “You’re going to fuck up the struts on this car if you keep driving it over this lane.”
