I don’t have many weaknesses, but one of them is definitely women crying.
“Fuck,” I curse under my breath before rapping my knuckles against the window.
A yelp sounds from the inside, followed by the body in the seat jerking to the side. Startled eyes fly to where I stand outside her car, and I see her hand quickly grip the phone in her hand.
I raise my hands up to show her I mean no harm, even stepping backward to put space between me and the door. “I only wanted to make sure you were okay.”
There’s no doubt in my mind that she knows exactly who I am once her teary gaze locks with mine. Her lips part in shock and I don’t think she blinks for a long moment. It’s a tamer reaction compared to some I get.
My hands slide back into the pockets of my jacket. “So, are you?” I ask, voice slightly raised so she can hear me through the closed window. “I mean are you all right?”
She shakes out of the stupor and stares at the phone in her hand. I notice the slightest slump in her shoulders before she opens the door. One legging-clad leg drops onto the pavement, followed by the other, Canvas Slip-On shoes like Mum wears cover her otherwise bare feet. She doesn’t make a move to stand or ask me for a photo or autograph which makes me intrigued over the stranger as she sits on the edge of her seat.
When she angles her face up, the parking lot lights hit her eyes perfectly, revealing one orb a muddy brown tone and the other a light blue rimmed with red as she tries blinking back tears.
I’ve seen those eyes before, I think to myself, a tug on my chest making me want to step closer to get a better look.
“My car broke down and I barely got it off the road, which was clearly a mistake.” Her hands gesture toward the other cars that make hers stick out like a sore thumb. “Look, if you’re going to call security then—”
The hell? “I’m not going to call anyone on you. Do you have an idea of what’s wrong with the car?”
She sniffs, crossing her arms over her chest after swiping her cheeks. “If I did, would you even be able to fix it?”
A smirk curls the corners of my lips. “So, you know who I am then.” All she does is blink, as if the comment is ridiculous. I sigh. “No, I’m not great with cars. But I know someone who is. He’s right inside if you want me to get hi—”
“No!” Her eyes widen and fear soaks into them, one of her legs quickly retreating back into the car as if to escape.
My hands go back up again, surprised by her reaction. “Okay. It was only a suggestion. Is someone coming to help you out?”
Nothing.
I can see the hesitation in her eyes, the need to lie, and I get it. I’ve heard Mum tell me plenty of times that women need to be ten times more cautious than men, especially in situations like these. Can’t say that doesn’t piss me off that any woman has to fear for herself, but I’ve heard horror stories over the years and seen things I’d rather not when I’m out traveling.
“Look, I mean you no harm. And I’d ask for your name, but I doubt you’d give it to me anyway. If you need my phone to call somebody, or want me to do it, I will. I’ll even foot the bill to get this towed somewhere. I know a few shops in the area that won’t charge you a kidney to get it fixed or cheat you out of proper service.”
I give her time to consider my offer, keeping my distance so she doesn’t feel pressured. It gives me ample time to take in her heart-shaped face and those doe eyes that exude innocence. I’m glad her darker blonde hair doesn’t cover the way they meet mine, though I wish there wasn’t defeat shining bright in them.
I’m certain we’ve met before because there’s no way I’d forget a gaze like that, but the harder I stare, the fuzzier the recognition becomes. Whatever scratched the surface is long gone by the time she speaks.
The smallest breath escapes her as she murmurs, “My name is Rylee. R-y-l-e-e.”
Surprise flickers across my face as I offer her a genuine smile. The name doesn’t ring a bell, but I’ve met thousands of women at this point in my life. “Pretty name for a pretty girl, Rylee.”
Those eyes that once filled with sadness now roll at my cheesy but true line. “Original.”
One of my shoulders lifts. “Can’t win them all, I suppose. How about that phone call?”
There’s a brief moment of hesitation before she relents. “Yes, please.” She waves her phone in the air and adds, “My cell is on 2% battery so tonight is clearly not my night.”
Most women in her position would disagree, but I don’t point that out. Rylee clearly doesn’t give a shit who I am or who I know, which is a refreshing realization. Though it’d benefit her to agree to let Zayne come and check out her car. He’s always loved tinkering with vehicles—he used to say if music didn’t work out, he’d run his own garage. Everyone who pays attention to the media knows his obsession with them, including the collection of classic cars he has scattered throughout his various properties in Cali and Massachusetts.
If she’d let me get him, he’d probably be able to get this thing up and running again in no time flat even with alcohol running through his veins. But considering she’s opposed to the idea, I let it be rather
