Page 5 of Well Aware

During our road trip, my car had felt like it was pulling hard to the right, and I didn’t want to deal with that the entire drive back to Texas where I played for the Texas Cyclones as their “star defensive man.”

They had no clue that I’d planned on leaving, and I hoped to keep it that way until I knew for sure that Montana would work out for us.

“Pretty sure, but maybe you could just fuck him up a little bit and they’d look the other way. The Hubers aren’t well-liked here.”

“Well, if they do this kind of shitty work, I don’t imagine that they are,” I grumbled.

He gestured toward the trunk, and I reluctantly popped it open for him.

I wasn’t too proud to look a gift horse in the mouth.

If this man wanted to help me put a new tire on, who was I to say no?

His two cop friends came over to help, and within twenty minutes, I had a spare tire on the car.

Unfortunately, my bumper was hanging on by a thread, seeing as the tire had fallen off the right front side and the car had slammed hard into the pavement at thirty miles an hour.

I closed my eyes.

This was exactly what I needed…

“Come on,” he said. “I’ll take you to the real mechanic.”

I followed behind the bikers, who all started their bikes up and led the way a little farther into town.

I left the small stretch of road behind where I’d broken down and was pleasantly surprised as I made my way inside the little town of Sawtooth.

It was quaint.

Flower baskets filled with petunias lined the streetlights at every corner. The storefronts were all perfectly decorated. The people walked and waved, smiled and laughed.

Hell, this was the type of place that you wanted to move to, for sure.

The only problem that I could see was that everyone knew everyone.

That didn’t fit well with my introverted personality.

They’d probably love to talk.

I wasn’t much of a talker.

At least not with people that I barely knew.

They turned into a mechanic shop just outside of the main part of town, and I followed suit.

They parked their bikes off to the left, but I pulled my car right up to the front doors where a man wearing coveralls stained in grease stood.

He was also sexy as hell.

What kind of water did this town serve to its citizens?

Why the hell were all of them so outlandishly attractive?

The mechanic, though, looked incredibly familiar.

I got out of the car, studying the man’s face.

He looked at me and turned around, dismissing me.