Page 42 of Don't Burn Bridges
She blinked. “You just carry that around?”
“Out here? You learn to keep your truck stocked with the basics. Never know what you’ll need and when.”
Maybe that was another difference between them. Shane seemed like a man who anticipated problems and prepared for them. Shylo's experience had been the opposite. Life usually threw problems at her first and then forced her to figure them out after the fact.
He strode back to his truck and retrieved a container from the bed before setting it beside hers. “The engine is gonna need a bit more time to cool. You can stand out here if you want, but my truck's running, and the air conditioning works great.”
Shylo glanced toward the cloudless sky. The sun beat down without mercy, and the heat radiating from her engine didn’t help matters.
“I'm not turning down a seat in air conditioning.”
“Smart choice.”
When they reached his truck, he opened the passenger door for her, and the blast of cool air that greeted her felt downright heavenly.
She climbed up, sank into the seat, and closed her eyes for a second. The truck smelled faintly of leather, dust, and whatever cologne Shane wore. Something clean and masculine, but not overpowering.
By the time he got behind the wheel, some of the tension over her truck eased. What remained came from sitting beside a man who had no idea she was his sister.
He rested an arm on the center console and pointed toward her truck. “I think that thing's trying to tell you something.”
“That it's old?”
“That it's thirsty.”
She laughed, and the sound surprised her almost as much as it seemed to surprise him.
“I appreciate you stopping.”
One shoulder lifted in a shrug. “That's what folks around here do. We help each other.”
Not knowing how to respond to that, Shylo stared out the windshield. When her truck overheated the first time, Seth had pulled over to help. Today, Shane had done the same thing. Neither man had hesitated.
Back home, she wasn't sure the same would've happened.
Everything she'd seen since arriving in Hazard Falls painted the same picture. People looked out for one another here. They showed up when they were needed.
Unfortunately, that only made what she was planning harder.
After a minute or two, Shane shifted in his seat beside her. “You all right?”
She blinked and glanced at him. “Why?”
“You looked like you were a million miles away.”
The statement shouldn't have caught her off guard, but it did. “Yeah. Just thinking.”
“Dangerous hobby.”
“That's what I'm learning.”
His chuckle filled the cab before silence settled between them again—a comfortable one this time. The kind that existed between people who didn't feel the need to fill every second with conversation. He always seemed to know when to talk and when to leave something alone.
She'd come to Hazard Falls carrying a lifetime's worth of resentment toward Shane Wilson. He'd gotten the father, the family, and the life she'd never had. However, the more she learned about him, the harder it became to hold on to that resentment.
She glanced at the ranch logo embroidered on his shirt. “Paige and Seth mentioned the ranch has been in your family for generations.”
“Yup. My great-great-grandfather showed up in the 1890s with a wagon, a handful of cattle, a Homestead Act claim, and more optimism than common sense. Somehow, it worked, and five generations later, we're still trying not to mess up what he started.”
