CLIO 

Oof! There was nothing like having a
twenty-pound tire tossed to you by your five-year-old.

Yeah, five-year-old.

“Here, Mommy.” JT cocked the next
tire.

“Five more seconds, baby.” Six years
working as a race car pit crew member meant I could change a set of wheels by
myself in about sixty seconds.

I zipped through tightening the lug
nuts on the first one, turned, and caught the airborne Michelin XZX with
another oof. “Ow. Too hard for Mommy. Don’t put so much strength into
your throws.”

“Oops. Sor-ry,” JT
sing-songed as he hefted the next one overhead.

“And you know if Mr. Ernie was here,
this would be a no-no.”

“I know!” JT’s exasperated
sigh made me smile.

“You’re just so strong, buddy. We
don’t want to make anyone else feel bad.” My daily struggle was teaching a
superhuman kindergartener to mask his abilities and not show anyone what he
was. It wasn’t like I could tell him he was part wolf shifter. I would someday,
but he’d have too many questions, and I didn’t have the answers.

“Why don’t you grab your screwdriver
and keep taking that toaster apart?” The old appliance had been Ernie’s. It
broke, and my boss had brought it in thinking JT might like to use some tools
to take it apart.

My little man hung out with me after
school. Thankfully, the elementary school was only a block away, and I was able
to meet him out front after the bell rang and walk him back to the shop until
it closed at six.

I moved efficiently around the
classic Volkswagen convertible Bug that seventy-three-year-old Mrs. Marsh
brought in. She told Ernie in a conversation that spanned far longer than it
took me to give the car a full tune-up that her granddaughter was turning
sixteen, and she wanted to surprise her with the title to the treasure.

There was no sixteen-year-old on
earth who wouldn’t love this baby. Especially now that I installed a top of the
line stereo system, so she had full technology. Not that a teenager in Cooper
Valley would need help with directions or traffic. I was pretty sure everyone
in this small Montana town was born and raised here.

JT tossed me the last tire, and I
put it on and lowered the car off the lift as a giant red pickup drove into
Ernie’s Garage’s empty lot.

These ranchers and their giant
trucks. Around here, I swore that the men equated their trucks to their dick
size. Not that I’d seen one in a while.

I gave JT a pointed look, but
softened it with a smile. “No more tire throwing,” I warned as I sauntered out
the open garage door, peeling off my latex gloves. They kept my hands from
being permanently stained with grease.

“I know,” he called.

A young, blond man in cowboy boots
and jeans opened the door of the truck and dropped from the driver’s seat in a
smooth motion. He started to come my way, cup of coffee in hand. When his gaze
met mine, his nostrils flared, and he froze, sloshing coffee over the white
t-shirt that did a whole heck of a lot to show off his packed muscles.

He turned back to the truck, which
let me see the back side of him… including his ass.

Another hot cowboy. This town was
full of eye candy like this guy. Good thing I was fairly immune to virile young
men who thought they were the shiz. I grew up in a racetrack central pit,
surrounded by trash-talking testosterone-laden young men.

That didn’t mean I wasn’t enjoying
the view though. If I were a few years younger and less jaded, I might let him
buy me a drink and test-drive him in bed. But I was older, wiser, and had a
child.

He set the now-empty to-go cup on
the hood and–holy hell.

He peeled his t-shirt off over his
head, wiped his hands with it, then tossed it back in the truck.

I should thank the good Lord he
didn’t have a napkin because taking his shirt off perked my ovaries right up.
It should be illegal for a guy with a body like that to walk around
shirtless. There could be car accidents.

It felt straight out of a movie the
way the sun bounced off his six-pack abs.

But he probably spilled on himself
just for the opportunity to show off his Hollywood-worthy physique. Guys like
him knew their effect on women and milked it for all it was worth.

This one had broad shoulders stacked
with muscles and light curls dusting his sculpted pecs. There was no farmer’s
tan that I could see, and I saw. A guy that blond should’ve been
sunburnt, but he sported a golden tan, like he worked all day in the sun
without a shirt.

While my panties were getting wet, I
was immune to this obvious display of ego. I knew all about hot, cocky young
men who thought the world revolved around them. I’d had my fill of them working
in racing—JT’s dad being the prime example.

This one was great eye candy, but I
was over them.

“Did you take that off for my
benefit?” I called from the open bay door.

His gaze lighted on me again. “You
made me spill my coffee.”

“How did I do that?” I wondered.

He hit me with a megawatt smile. The
kind that probably had panties melting all across town. Maybe even the state.
“You’re so pretty I lost myself there for a moment.”

Uh huh.

If I were younger–like his age–I’d
roll my eyes. Instead, I crossed my arms because my nipples were hard, even
though he was full of shit. I had my hair pulled back in a bun to keep it out
of my face, wore no makeup, and sported a pair of stained coveralls.

He was still smiling, showing his
perfect white teeth. Dimples in both cheeks and on his chin. A square jaw so
sharp it could’ve been cut by a laser. This guy should move to LA and get a job
modeling or acting.

He winked then reached in and
grabbed a cowboy hat off the passenger seat and dropped it onto his head before
striding over to me with his hand extended. “You must be new here.”

I guessed wearing a hat was more
important than a shirt when speaking to a lady in Montana. Good to know.

“Yep.”

His blue eyes met mine, and I felt
like a jack slipped, and I was pinned beneath a semi.

“Hey, I’m Sam. Sam Watson.” He shook
my hand. “I work over at Wolf Ranch.” He looked over his shoulder, and I
assumed that was the direction of the property.

“Clio.”

Sam’s palm was large and calloused.
Fingernails trimmed. He cocked his head as he studied me. Took a deep breath.
“Clio, like the race car?”

My brows popped. Most people outside
the racing industry had never heard of the Renault Clios that my dad named me
for. “Yes, actually. I’m surprised you know about them.”

He still hadn’t released my hand
after shaking it. He made a purring sound in his throat. “I’d sure like to know
more.”

I frowned as he lifted my knuckles
to his lips.

Um, what? He was going to kiss my
hand like we were in a Regency film?

I snatched my hand back before he
could complete the gesture. “Whoa, buddy.” I wiped my hands on the sides of my
coveralls. “Do you try to kiss Ernie’s hand, too?”

Sam’s gaze didn’t leave my face. He
stared like I was some kind of goddess incarnate, not the least bit bothered by
my question. “Not often. Where is Ernie?”

“He doesn’t work today. He’s
semi-retired now that he hired me.”

“No shit.” Sam tilted his head to
the side. His gaze dragged down the length of my body and back up. I got this
kind of interest from men all the time working on the pit crew. Something about
a woman doing what was traditionally a man’s job was a turn on for some. Or
maybe it was just because I looked good in a mechanic’s uniform, which was ridiculous
because the belted gray coveralls were streaked with grease and dirt.

“So you live here?” He glanced up at
the second floor of the brick building and the apartment Ernie let us move
into. It was one of the reasons I chose to take this job. If I had to uproot my
kid and change cities for the third time, I didn’t want to deal with apartment
hunting, too.

I cleared my throat. “May I help you
with something?”

This conversation had gotten way too
personal. The last thing I needed was having an interested male knowing where
we lived.

Sam gave his head a little shake as
if trying to rouse himself from a stupor. “Yeah, sorry. I need to order a new
PTO shaft for our tractor.” The way he stepped a little more into my space and
flashed that cocky smile after he spoke made it sound like he just suggested
one night in paradise.

Damn. This kid–well, not quite a kid
because he was maybe twenty-three but way too young for me–had a very high
opinion of his flirting skills. I guessed with reason. It probably worked on
every other female he’d ever met.

“Run over a stump?” I guessed.

He grinned again. “Exactly. Huh, you
really do know your way around an engine.”

I shrugged. “Tractors aren’t my
specialty. Ernie’s the expert. I’ll take down the information, and he can help
you with that tomorrow.”

After checking and seeing that JT
was busy taking the toaster apart, I headed toward the office, acutely aware of
Sam’s searing gaze on my back. Or was it on my ass? Probably on my ass. You put
a belt on a pair of coveralls, and men imagined they saw curves.

I grabbed a pen and Ernie’s
estimation pad and spun around to thrust them into Sam’s hands, but I smacked
them into his bare chest instead. His hands came up and covered mine and held
them in place.

Every nerve in my body came to life.
Heat pooled between my legs.

Wow. Turned out I did still
have a sex drive.

Which didn’t mean I was going to do
anything about it with this guy.

“Customers usually stand on the other
side of the counter.”

I didn’t need his naked torso
taunting me with its glory. Not when my mouth watered to lean forward and lick
that tan skin. Damn, it had been a long time since I’d been laid. Like since
long before JT was born.

He was gorgeous, definitely, but not
dating material. Not for the long haul. He was dangerous because I had a
feeling he had the skill to take care of my sex drought.

That meant he’d had tons of
practice, leaving a bevy of well-satisfied women all over western Montana.

While my vagina was saying jump him,
I needed to be realistic. I had JT now. I couldn’t just get my rocks off with
anyone. I couldn’t bring any guy into our lives, and he definitely wouldn’t fit
in with my mom lifestyle.

But it was a reminder that I really
needed to get on the apps and start dating legit possibilities.

I cleared my throat. “Go ahead and
write down the part number of the one that broke, if you have it, the kind of
tractor, your name, and phone number. I’ll have him give you a call with
pricing tomorrow.”

Sam stared at me, and his tongue
flicked out to lick his lower lip. He set the pad and pen down without writing
anything. He shook his head. “I think I’d rather come back. Yeah, I’d
definitely rather come back in person. You work every day?”

He was too close. So close, I caught
his sexy masculine scent of mountains and fresh air and virile male. Worst of
all, something about him reminded me of Ted, JT’s dad.

Even if Sam didn’t look years too
young for me, I would never go for a cocky player like Ted again, and this guy
was c.o.c.k.y.

I put my fingertips on his bare
chest with no notepad this time. It was a big mistake because his nipples
instantly got hard.

Oh my God.

I blinked out of my
testosterone-induced haze and gave him a gentle push backward. “Whoa, cowboy.
Whatever you’re thinking, unthink it.”

He took his cowboy hat off and ran
his fingers through his hair, undaunted. “All I was thinking was that you must
be new to town. Maybe you need someone to show you around.”

“I don’t,” I said firmly and shook
my head to go with it. “Even if I did, you’re not my type. And, how old are you
anyway?”

Why was I even asking that? It
didn’t matter. I wasn’t going out with him!

Sam opened his mouth to answer, but
he was interrupted by JT. “Look, Mommy!”

I expected to see him showing me the
insides of the toaster.

“Mommy, up here!”

I looked up and gasped. JT was
sitting on a crossbeam at least twelve feet in the air, his little feet
dangling, kicking back and forth with satisfaction at his new perch.

My heart stalled in my throat. Holy
shit. “JT! You can’t be up there!”

Oh God. This was how he broke his
arm a few weeks ago. He’d climbed a tree and fallen out from a too-high branch.

My son was fast and had zero fear.

We’d had to move from California
because he’d cracked open his cast and peeled it off three days later, saying
it itched. Of course, I had no way of explaining to his doctor, or summer camp
counselors, or anyone else around us how that break had healed so fast.

Even though I’d just checked on him,
I was a terrible mother. I’d been ogling a sexy torso while JT put himself in
danger.

I ran to stand beneath him and put
my hands up and out as if that would keep him from jumping. “How did you get up
there? Oh my God. How am I going to get you down?”