Cody blinked. “A toaster?”
She shrugged, her lips twitching with the hint of a smirk. “Yeah. All shiny, but useless when it’s broken.”
She’d called his prized Ferrari—a car he’d lovingly maintained, polished to perfection, and considered a masterpiece of engineering—atoaster.
Atoaster.
“What the hell?” Cody muttered under his breath, staring at the woman in front of him as if she’d just insulted his entire existence.
She stood there, one hand on her hip, the other resting casually against the door of her beat-up old truck, her green eyes sparkling with amusement. Her messy bun and scuffed boots screamed practicality, a sharp contrast to his perfectly tailored shirt and the shiny red beast of a car currently smoking behind him.
“Excuse me,” he said, trying to keep the incredulity out of his voice. “Did you just call my Ferrari—a precision-engineered masterpiece—atoaster?”
She shrugged, her lips twitching with the hint of a smirk. “Yup. A shiny, overpriced toaster. And from the looks of it, not even a good one. Pretty sure my grandma’s toaster has fewer issues than that thing.”
Cody opened his mouth, then closed it, utterly stunned. He’d dealt with all kinds of people in his life—fans of his horses, admirers of his cars, women who usually swooned at his charm—but this... this was new.
“Okay,” he said, taking a deep breath as he pointed toward the car. “That ‘toaster’ is a Ferrari. A one-of-a-kind piece of art. And it does not have issues.”
“Oh, sure,” she said, nodding solemnly as her gaze flicked to the steam rising from under the hood. “It looks like it’s working perfectly. I guess you won’t be needing me.”
Cody blinked, momentarily at a loss for words. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
Her grin widened. “A little, yeah.”
Cody opened his mouth to respond but was cut off by a sudden flurry of feathers and squawking. Out of nowhere, a chicken darted across the road, heading straight for him.
“What the—” Cody yelped, jumping back as the bird flapped wildly at his legs.
“Oh, carp!” the woman exclaimed, running toward the chicken that had flown out of the old truck. “Poppy, stop terrorizing strangers!”
“Poppy?” Cody asked, watching in disbelief as the woman expertly scooped up the squawking bird and cradled it in her arms like it was a toddler throwing a tantrum.
“She’s got... opinions,” the woman explained, stroking the chicken’s head to calm it down. “She’s my grandmother’s prized bird.”
Cody stared at her, completely stunned. The ladies’ man who always had the perfect line found himself utterly speechless.
“You all right there, city boy?” she teased, raising a brow as she tucked Poppy under one arm.
He blinked, snapping himself out of it. “I’m no city boy. I’ve raised chickens before, but…I just—do you always carry chickens around like that?”
“Only when they’re trying to murder strangers in expensive cars,” she replied, her tone deadpan.
Cody let out a laugh, the sound surprising even himself. “Well, I’ve officially seen it all.”
“Good. Now, do you need a ride, or are you planning to wait for a tow truck that won’t show up out here?”
Cody hesitated, his pride warring with his gratitude. Finally, he nodded. “I could use a ride.”
“Great,” she said, turning toward the truck. “I’m Alexis, by the way. And you owe me a favor for rescuing you and your shiny toaster from certain doom.”
“Cody Burnett,” he replied, following her to the truck. “And I think I owe you more than a favor. You just saved my day.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” Alexis said, her grin widening as she opened the passenger door of her beat-up truck. “I’ve got rules. No complaints about the music. No touching Poppy—she doesn’t like to be handled by amateurs. And don’t even think about touching me unless you’re looking to lose a hand.”
Cody chuckled, the sound rolling out despite the ridiculousness of his situation. He slid into the passenger seat, the cracked leather warm from the Texas sun, and glanced over at her as she climbed in behind the wheel, tucking the feisty chicken securely in her lap.
For the first time in a long time, Cody felt completely off balance—and oddly, he liked it. Alexis was unlike any woman he’d ever met.
There was no pretense about her, no attempt to impress him with charm or flattery. She didn’t even seem fazed by who he was or the car that usually turned heads everywhere he went. She was... refreshing.
And nothing like those big-haired city girls who seemed more interested in his last name or his bank account than the man behind it.
“She’s... different,” he muttered to himself, his gaze flicking over to Alexis as she fiddled with the radio, her brow furrowed in concentration.
The truck lurched forward with a cough, and Cody braced himself against the dashboard, shaking his head with a smirk.
“Buckle up, city boy,” Alexis said, flashing him a quick grin. “This isn’t your fancy sports car, but it’ll get you where you need to go. Eventually.”
Cody laughed again, the sound surprising even him. Alexis might have thrown him completely off his game, but something about her already had him hooked.
