started.”
The rush of gratitude that surged through her was overwhelming enough that she felt like crying again. “Are you sure?” Amy asked. “You don’t mind?”
“Not for you.” He coughed and cleared his throat again. “Not at all,” he said, louder. “Come on.”
They got into his car. It occurred to her that he was practically a stranger and she was getting into his vehicle without knowing more about him than his name, but . . . what else was she supposed to do? A tow-truck driver and an Uber driver were strangers, too, and Caleb’s assistance was free. So she got in, tucked the blanket around herself once more when the seat belt was on, and gave him her warmest smile.
He really was the kindest man.
* * *
* * *
Hell, he was messing all of this up.
Caleb clutched the steering wheel tightly as he drove back to Painted Barrel, trying not to think of all the stupid things that came out of his mouth whenever she was around, but they kept cropping up as ugly reminders that his tongue played a different game than the rest of him.
You’re great.
What should I do?
Me.
God. She’d think he was an idiot. He was trying to say as little as possible so the beautiful Amy Mckinney wouldn’t realize what a fool he was, but that was proving impossible. He had to talk to her a little, but every time he opened his trap, dumb shit kept coming out. He was going to have to deal with it; that was all.
He was still more than a little shocked that she sat next to him in his car, quietly sipping coffee and gazing out into the snowy night. Of all the people in Painted Barrel, she’d called him when she needed help, and he wasn’t sure what to make of that. He was grateful, all right, but it was puzzling. At least, it had been puzzling until she’d tearfully admitted she didn’t have anyone else to call. It made him far too happy until it occurred to him that he was a last resort.
Even so, he’d dropped everything to come and rescue her. A kind, gentle woman like her shouldn’t be alone with no one to depend on. That bothered him. Wasn’t he the most tongue-tied man alive? He’d grown up in the remote wilds of Alaska with no one but his brothers and a few remote neighbors, and yet he’d have had people to call if stranded. It made no sense.
They pulled into Painted Barrel and he glanced over at her—the only time he’d allowed himself to look over at her tonight. She was far too pretty, and it just distracted him. Her long, dark hair was down around her shoulders, making his fingers itch to touch it, and she wore a pair of blue-framed glasses that just made her bright eyes that much brighter. Her nose was red tipped with cold and her cheeks flushed, and she’d had such a sad expression on her face that it made him want to fling her over his shoulder and carry her away from everything.
Whatever she needed, he’d fix it.
He’d had crushes in the past before, had thought some women were attractive, but it was nothing like the gut-wrenching, tongue-tying yearning he felt when he looked at her. She was special. Pretty. Smart. Kind. His clever little niece loved her.
Caleb had always thought he’d work in Painted Barrel for a year and then go back to Alaska, but the moment he saw Amy, his plans changed. Someone like her wouldn’t like living off the grid in the remote wild, and so he decided to stay. His brothers thought he was crazy.
At least, Jack did. Hank understood, now that he’d fallen in love and married the local hair lady, who was also a nice, pretty sort who wouldn’t live off the grid. Painted Barrel wasn’t such a bad place. It was small and kinda remote, nothing like bustling Casper. And she was here, which made it the only place he wanted to be.
“Address?” he asked when she remained quiet.
“I’m the next street over,” she said in a soft voice, pointing. “Just turn right at the bank.”
He did, and the truck crept along the quiet street. Painted Barrel was a small town, and an old one. Most of the buildings in “town” proper were a hundred years old, and some had weathered the history better than others. When they pulled up to a dilapidated old one-story at the end of