I have much more pressing matters. The biggest being I don’t know the first thing about motherhood. Hell, I don’t know the first thing aboutmyself. How will I teach a baby to be strong? I can barely hold myself together.
Dragging in a deep breath, I sit up, adjust my seat, and slide my key into the ignition. It’s then that I notice a note face down under the passenger side windshield wiper. It’s scratched out in blue ink sloppily on a torn piece of an envelope.
‘Maybe your boyfriend can fix your car.’
My stomach sinks. Back when I believed in the allure of Mark, he offered me money to get my car fixed. I didn’t want to take it because I didn’t want to owe him anything, but he did everything and anything to give me the cash. This particular amount came in a thick envelope he dropped into my locker at work. Of course, now I know I should’ve given it back, but at the time I was happy to have the money for the car.
My eyes squeeze closed as I turn the ignition. I expect the worst, and that’s what I get. I try again. The engine won’t turn.
God damn it! Why the hell did I ever trust this asshole? I try to lean forward on the steering wheel, but my stomach stops me.
“You look like you need help.” Dodge knocks on the side window, startling me from my downward spiral. I should be thankful. Maybe this is the magic of the romantic comedy I was thinking about, but it’s probably just the universe deciding I haven’t been humiliated enough.
Compared to Dodge, I have the decision making of a circus clown. I can’t help but wonder what he must think of my level of responsibility. I mean, when he was my age, he was raising his little sister all by himself.
“No, I’m good,” I lie. Grabbing my bag, I fumble through the contents, trying to make it look like I’m missing an important piece to starting the car, but he’s onto me.
That big, handsome grin comes back again. “No, you’re not. What’s wrong?”
“I can figure it out.”
“I’m sure you can,” he leans his giant body against my car, shifting it slightly with his weight, “but I’m here, and I have a hero complex.”
I glare up at him and wonder how he manages with all that masculinity. The beard, the muscles, the tattoos, the giant frame, the cocky attitude. I should send him away. I’m sure someone at ‘The Haircuttery’will help me out, but I don’t know people that well yet. Hell, most of my coworkers don’t even know I’m pregnant. I wear oversized everything and keep my belly hidden as best I can to avoid judgment. Being an ex-stripper is enough drama without adding being a single mom with no dad in sight to the mix. This is a small town and people talk. Maybe I should take Dodge up on the offer to help and save myself the embarrassment.
“I guess I could use a ride home,” I relent, and climb up from the beat-up Honda I’ve been driving for way too long. It’s silver with rust chewing holes in the wheel wells.
Dodge looks toward me, a bright smile on his face like he’s satisfied with himself. “I’ll have someone tow your car to the shop and I’ll take you home… on one condition.”
“Seriously? You’re going to make me work for it? Do you know how embarrassing this is?” I say these words, but my heart squeezes, hoping his one condition is a no strings attached night of sex filled with strange positions. I could use it.
“You simply have to have dinner with me. I could use the company and I’m sure you could use some help around the house. I’ve seen the mess you have going on up there.”
If this guy is trying to get in my pants, he’s doing an awful job at it. My brows narrow inward and my arms cross over my chest. “Mess?I don’t have a mess. I have a few boxes to bring in. That’s all. Besides that, why are you driving by my cabin?”
“Relax.” He brushes my shoulder with his as he opens the passenger door and reaches out for my hand. “It’s on my way to work. Get in. I’ll take care of your boxes and you can take care of these hunger pangs. I haven’t had a home cooked meal in months.”
I draw in a heavy breath and let it out slowly as I stare at the open door to Dodge’s truck. Every part of me wants to see where a night alone with Dodge could go, the two of us recreating parts of what we started at the cabin. Then again, I didn’t have this beach ball with me then.
I roll my eyes in spite of myself and let Dodge help me up into his truck. His hands are rough and big. Even pregnant, he dwarfs me. I’m making a mistake. I can feel it already. That said, making bad mistakes is becoming my modus operandi. So really, what’s one more?
Chapter Two
Dodge
Everything about this ride is uncomfortable. Ash hasn’t spoken in thirteen minutes and even then, she only told me I was about to miss the turn to her house. I tried to ask her about this asshole that fucked with her car, but her lips sealed up like a window on a gusty day.
I flick on my blinker and pull into her driveway where a heap of baby gear is waiting on the front porch. “You get more delivered?”
“Yes, and I’m pretty sure I’m broke now.”
“Aren’t people supposed to have baby showers for this kind of thing?”
She laughs, twisting her long hair to the side as she steps out of the truck. “No one is having a baby shower for me, Dodge.” The way she says it, it’s as though she’s disappointed.
“Do you want one?”
Her brows narrow as she makes her way up onto the porch, pushing boxes aside as she walks. “Don’t need one. Look… Santa came early.”
