As she positioned the wheel blocks, a vehicle pulled up behind her, its headlights dazzling her. The driver got out and approached. In the heavy downpour all she could make out was a dark silhouette outlined against the brightness. Her heart faltered as she realized she was alone and stuck in the middle of nowhere with a young child asleep in the back. What if this was some crazy coot hell-bent on mischief?
Grabbing the wrench with both hands, she scrambled upright. Then her heart jumped into her throat when she realized it was Luke halted in front of her.
“What are you doing here?” she yelled above the crashing rain.
He tilted his head at her car. “Looks like I arrived just in time.”
Confused emotions roiled in her, but pride and indignation won through. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve changed hundreds of flat tires without any help.”
“What about Chloe?” He nodded toward the backseat. “You shouldn’t leave her in there while you’re jacking up the car.”
Tyler hesitated. He was right, damn it, but she didn’t want to make Chloe stand in the pouring rain.
“Why don’t I give you both a lift home, and you can get your car fixed tomorrow?” he said.
“No.” Perhaps she was being unreasonable, but she wouldn’t be beholden to Luke anymore. “I’ll put Chloe in your car, but then I’m changing the tire and going home.” Without you. She tightened her grip on the wrench.
He shrugged. “Fine.” Opening the rear door, he lifted Chloe in his arms and, sheltering her with his jacket, deposited her in the back of his Range Rover. All through the transfer, Chloe remained asleep.
As soon as they were clear, Tyler grimly went to work on the jack. Her nerves screeched when Luke hunkered down next to her.
“Here, let me do that—”
“No!”
“For crying out loud, Tyler. I just want to help. Why’re you treating me like a leper?”
She paused the jack-winding, her chest aching with grief. Couldn’t the man see she was at the end of her tether? It had cost all her courage to face him earlier, and now she had nothing to spare and nowhere to hide. She swiped a sodden lock of hair away from her eyes to glare at him.
“You should be at home. Writing the book of your heart.”
“I’ve been writing ten or twelve hours every day.”
She stared at him. “You have?” When he nodded impatiently, she added, “And it’s good?”
“I think it’s good. I have no idea what other people will think.” He took hold of the jack, and this time she didn’t resist. Frowning, he worked the jack hard until the car had lifted to the correct height. “Hand me the wrench,” he ordered.
She gave him the tool and watched as he worked the nuts loose. The thought of Luke writing his heart out made her both satisfied and heartsore. If only
“My agent called the other day,” he blurted out.
The tension in his voice instantly had her nerves corkscrewing again. “What did he want?”
“He said he’d been talking to my publishers and I had a final chance and six months to write the Kingsley Jeffers sequel.” He gripped the tire, knuckles bone white as he eased it free. “I told him I had better things to do with my time.”
“Good.”
“You think so?” The tendons in his neck stood out as he swiveled to stare at her. “You honestly think it was a good decision?”
“It’s what you want.” She frowned, puzzled by his uncertainty. “Why are you so doubtful?”
“Because—” He exhaled a loud hiss of frustration as he dumped the flat tire on the ground. “Because if I did take up Elliot’s offer, I’d have a career again. I’d have stability, money, reputation.”
“But you don’t care about any of those things!”
“But I do,” he forced out between gritted teeth, “because then I’d have something to offer you.”
Her stunned gaze clashed with his. Rain trickled down his nose, dripped from his hair, glistened in his eyelashes. She jerked upright and backed away, breathing hard, afraid to hear any more.
“Listen—” As he started toward her, several metallic objects scattered beneath his feet.
“You’re losing my nuts—”
“You’re driving me nuts!” Dashing the rain from his eyes, he sucked in a harsh breath. “Tyler”
Her whole body quivered as her name softened on his tongue.
“When I was a young boy, I used to admire my father,” he said, his speech labored as if he had to drag the words out. “But later I realized what a shallow man he was, how he capitalized on my mother’s feelings for him. She loved the bastard, despite knowing all his flaws, couldn’t help herself taking him back every time. He knew her weakness for him, and he exploited that for his own selfish needs.”
Pausing, he shifted to meet her eyes fully. Beneath the tumbling rain his face was pale, tentative. “You’ll probably accuse me of being conceited, but I sense you have feelings for me, strong feelings, or you wouldn’t have visited me earlier.” He swiped a hand across his brow, and with a burst of shock she noticed he was trembling. “Two weeks ago when you asked me to move in, you have no idea how much I wanted to shout ‘yes,’ but I couldn’t do that to you. I didn’t want to be my father all over again. Can you understand that?”
In a daze, she shook her head. In unison with the rain, her heart was pounding so loudly she felt she was drowning, but one thought stood out in all the confusion.
“You say you don’t want to be your father. Does that mean you feel nothing for me?”
He looked as if a ten-ton truck had fallen on him. “No! I care so much about you.” He swallowed hard. The wrench clanged to the ground. “Tyler, I love you.”
“You do?” His face blurred as tears rushed to her eyes and mingled with the raindrops. “Then how can you compare yourself to your father?”
“Because I’ve never been in love before, and I don’t know if I can live up to your expectations.” He jabbed at his chest, agitated. “Look at me, for Christ’s sake. I don’t have a steady income or a fixed address. I live out of a suitcase. I spend half my time in my head. I’m an unabashed introvert. I hate possessions dragging me down. What woman would put up with a man like that? And what kind of father would I be to Chloe?”
The anguish in his voice made her want to cry out. She reached out and touched his arm and felt the muscles tense beneath her shaking fingers. “And how would accepting your agent’s offer rectify any of that?”
“Because at least I’d have something solid to offer.”
“But you know it’s wrong.”
“Is it?” He pressed his hand over hers. “After you left earlier this evening, I went back to my writing, but everything felt gray, hollow, dead. I realized something was more important than my bloody writing. So I came after you, hoping—praying—I had a solution so I could be with you and Chloe.”
Somehow she held back her tears as she lifted his hand to her lips. “Darling, you already have the solution.” She kissed his cold knuckles. “You said you love me. That’s all I need.”
“No, it’s not enough.” Disentangling his hand, he gripped her by the shoulders. “It’s not enough for me. I want to provide for you, be someone Chloe can look up to, be there no matter what. That’s what real husbands and fathers do.”
“Oh, Luke, how can I get it through that beautiful, thick skull of yours?” She wrapped her arms around him and planted a fierce kiss on his forehead. “You’ve been more than that to Chloe and me. You’ve been loving and patient and understanding. You’ve been passionate and tender and generous. You’re everything to me, and—and I won’t have you thinking the only way we can be together is for you to write a crappy novel!”
Close up, his eyes glittered. He lifted his hands to cup her face, his breath sweet against her skin. “You’re gorgeous for saying that, but it’s still my decision to make.”
“Not anymore.” Love, hot and fierce, bubbled out from her. “You said you love me, and I’m not letting you take that back! We’re in this together now. I won’t let you call that douchebag agent of yours. You got that?”
Passion flared in his face. He breathed hard as he ran his fingers through her hair. “Jeez, Tyler, you’re so damn sexy when you get all bossy with me.”
They were soaking wet, but still heat coursed through her veins. “How sexy do I have to get before you agree?” she whispered, quivering beneath his caressing hands.
His eyes burned but then his hands stilled. “Seriously, Tyler. If I continue writing the book I want to write, it could be a year or more before I sell it.”
“I don’t want Luke Maguire, the literary genius. I want the Luke who shared my life for a few blissful weeks. I want him, forever. I love you, Luke. I love you like—like I love oxygen, and I’m not giving up on you.”
For the first time she saw his eyes grow moist. “Oh, honey, I won’t let you down.”
“Great.” Her voice wobbled. “I could do with some decent help around the house.”