Doesn't matter.
He used the keys to get the jack out of the SUV and tried to ignore the two women on the sidewalk. Rather, he tried to ignore one of them, but he could see her out of the corner of his eye and damn if he hadn't already committed her curves to memory. Did that turtleneck have to cling in all the right spots?
So much for staying away from her.
The sooner he got this tire changed, the sooner he could get out of here and forget all about Sabrina and her mouth-watering ass.
He doubled his effort to loosen the second nut. Doggone machines, tightening the lug nuts too tight. Didn't anyone hand-torque anymore?
“Need any help?” Sabrina called.
The nut gave, and his hand smashed into the asphalt.
4
Pain exploded through his knuckles.
“Shit.”
“Oh—” Sabrina was next to him in a heartbeat, reaching for his hand.
David shrugged her off. “I'm okay.”
God knew he'd suffered worse. He had plenty of old wounds to show for it and those were only the physical injuries that left scars on the outside.
From the corner of his eye, he saw her sit back on her heels.
Feeling like an ass, he continued his task and made short work of the job. His training allowed him to become laser focused but then again, he'd never had Sabrina Duncan tagging along through Afghanistan. He'd never had her delicious scent teasing him as he tried to defuse a land mine.
Luckily, he was working with a tire and a handful of lug nuts. A breeze sent a tiny tornado of leaves swirling between them. He let the vehicle down and picked up the jack.
“Thanks, Boomer. I really appreciate it.” Celita stepped forward as he stood.
“No problem.” He stowed the gear in the back and shut the tailgate, feeling the women watching him. It wasn't the makeup artist who held his attention though. No. It was the woman who'd stolen his heart and crushed it. “Drive safe.”
He handed over the keys but Celita turned back to Sabrina.
Once again, he was awestruck at how outgoing his former best friend was. In fact, if she hadn't confirmed it, he'd have a really hard time believing the vivacious bombshell currently typing her phone number into Celita's phone was the same Sabrina Duncan who used to hang upside down next to him on the monkey bars.
Back then she'd been so shy, with everyone but him.
“Let's get together before you head back to Hollywood,” Sabrina said as Celita circled the hood. She waved a few fingers and Boomer stepped onto the sidewalk.
When the headlights flicked on, he got his first good look at his hand. Yep. He'd given himself a good scrape to the knuckle. Blood had trickled down the side of his palm and dried.
“I have a first aid kit in my car,” Sabrina said as Celita backed out onto the street.
“I'll take care of it when I get home.”
Maybe he was seeing things, but he'd bet money that disappointment flashed across her features. And that made him feel like a jerk.
“Are you sure? I'm two spaces down. You don't want an infection.”
No. He didn't. But he really didn't want her hands on him. With her so damn close he could almost feel the heat of her body. He was having a hell of a time reminding himself that he'd vowed to stay away from her.
He took a deep, steadying breath. “I'm gonna head out. I need a shower.”
Truth be told, the makeup was getting to him and he hated being sucked down memory lane.
“Oh.” The single word held mountains of disappointment and made him meet her gaze head on.
Damn.
Did she have to look up at him so...bewildered? The faint lines of confusion wrinkling her brow made him feel like an even bigger jerk.
“But if you've got a wipe or something to clean this—”
“Sure thing.” As if needing to move or do something with her hands, she started forward, hitting a button on her key fob in the same instant.
Where the hell had she been hiding those keys in such a skin-tight outfit? Would she let him do a thorough search?
Knock it off, Jameson.
She hit a button on the passenger door, popped open the glove compartment and returned with a small container of supplies. The fact that she was so organized shouldn't have been a turn on, but fuck. He was a sucker for a well labeled system.
Cracking open the lid, she placed everything on the hood of the car. The very red car. He glanced right, then left, taking in the smooth, sleek lines.
The Sabrina he remembered had been way too shy to drive such a flashy car.
“Convertible, huh?”
“Mmm huh.” She held up a little packet like it was the Stanley cup. “I just moved here from California and it's practically a requirement out there to own a convertible.”
Taking the foil between her teeth, she gave it a hard yank. His gaze zeroed on her lips. Were they as soft as they looked?
“You lived in California?” He asked, aware of how lame he sounded but he had to do something to distract himself from her mouth.
She reached for his hand and awareness traveled across his skin like wildfire. Despite her gentle touch, he wanted to snatch his hand back, but he got the impression that he had hurt her feelings earlier, and while he didn't want to rehash the past, hell, he didn't want a future with her either, he didn't want to hurt her. No matter how badly she'd hurt him.
“Yep. Almost ten years.”
“No kidding.” Small world.
“Where do you live?”
“Wherever work takes—” he hissed as the cleaning pad hit abraded skin. Gritting his teeth, he finished, “me. Right now, I'm here. By December, I should be back in California.”
Her perfectly plucked brows lifted and cinched together and she glanced up at
