flannel that made his baby blues a stupid shade of you-know-you-want-to-ride-this, and a cocky smirk that she knew from experience was the closest thing that man ever got to a smile. A heavy brown canvas duffel bag hung from his shoulder, and he clenched the strap with one large hand in a pose definitely intended to make his arm muscles flex to accentuate the curves of his shoulder and triceps. Even his chin-length hair was waving perfectly under his cream-colored cowboy hat like he was some model in a photoshoot. Where was the fucking breeze even coming from? Or did his hair just move like that by magic? To attract females. Obnoxious. His perfectly trimmed short beard was annoying, too. He definitely manscaped now…probably had a six-pack under that shirt…
“You still think I look good,” he accused her.
A professional at emotionless facial expressions, Summer murmured coolly, “The only thing I find attractive about you is your duffle bag. Probably gonna steal it later.”
The smirk fell from his face, and Summer smiled internally as she walked out of his house.
These next few days were going to be more fun than she’d thought.
“Which one is your rig?” she asked innocently, like she couldn’t smell Wes’s Old Spice cologne wafting from the black on black Ford Raptor sitting out front.
“Since you’re playin’ dumb, it’s probably the one you’re walkin’ straight to,” he muttered from behind her.
“I’m not playing dumb. I’m just waiting for my chance to insult you.” Summer turned and gave him a Cheshire cat smile over her shoulder. “The setup for an insult is always important.”
Wes’s frown was cute. If she thought stuff like that was cute. Which she didn’t. Because it was Wes. Wesley.
“I used to say that,” he told her.
Oh, she knew. Thanks to the wolf, she remembered every single thing that had ever happened in vivid detail.
“Okay,” he said, making his way around the passenger’s side door. He opened it for her and leaned on the door. “Go on and impress me with an insult on a motherfuckin’ Ford Raptor. You can’t get a better truck for performance.”
Summer smiled with teeth and then slammed the door closed without getting in. And then she opened it again for herself. “Don’t need a man to open a door for me. Especially not a Kaid.” Primly, she climbed up into the passenger’s seat and said, “You gonna try to buckle me in next so I don’t chip a nail?”
Wes looked so shaken, he just stood there with his mouth hanging open. “Uuuh…I…” His frown deepened. “That was the first time I ever opened a door for a gi—”
Slam!
Summer pulled it shut before he finished talking. No admissions, no saying he’d changed, no making her feel special. He was probably going to be dead in a couple of days.
Wes tossed his duffle bag in the bed of the truck and made his way to the driver’s side door, yanked it open, and got in.
“Don’t get attached to things that burn you,” Summer recited out loud.
“What?”
“That’s what my therapist says. It’s my mantra now.”
“You have a therapist?” he asked in a baffled tone.
His hair was hanging in his face on one side. Kinda cute if she was into that kind of thing. Which she wasn’t. Maybe she would shave his hair in his sleep so he would stop annoying her with his attractiveness.
“She’s very nice,” Summer said softly.
“Is she human or shifter? You can’t be telling humans what you are, Summer. It ain’t safe.”
“Why don’t you want Hunter to come? Do you still hate him so much you’ll leave him out of seeing Sam?”
Wes huffed a dark laugh. “You don’t know me anymore.” He turned the key, and the engine roared to life.
Summer buckled in and pulled her knees to her chest, stared out the front window as Wes drove them down the long gravel drive away from his home. “Raptors have damn near 500 horsepower and are built for performance and speed, and you have it on a ranch. It’s not a hauling truck, Wesley. It’s a truck made for getting attention. You always needed that though, didn’t you?”
“We take Bryson or Hunter’s rigs into town when we blow off steam or run errands, Summer. This truck sees the feed store and the ranch. I got it for four grand under MSRP, and it’s my dream truck. I saved for it. It ain’t for anyone but me. And when I have a bad day, I leave all this ranch shit behind me