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hero. Who’d been gone twelve long years. Meghan had told her that. She swallowed, feeling a little sick and scared like she hadn’t felt since she’d been a teen trying to assess yet another new situation.
    “I’m borrowing it.”
    “Borrowing it how?”
    She tried to gulp in some air so she wouldn’t sound so breathy, afraid. It was almost as if he could sense her fear because he suddenly looked up, that narrowed, focused stare of his, and tilted his head toward the door. “You need to push it again to open the door. I’ll put Parker in his booster seat.”
    She nodded and pushed the button twice. The door opened and he carefully put Parker inside along with her tote and strapped Parker in. Then he stepped back from the truck, closed the door, and took another step back from her. By that time she could breathe again.
    “Tell me about the truck.”
    “Why?”
    “Because it’s mine.”
    *
    “Yours?” she asked softly, her face clouded in confusion, but at least she wasn’t about to hyperventilate now, which kicked up his desire again. He was completely uncivilized in regular society.
    “How?” she asked. “Mr. Meizner said it was his son’s truck.”
    Colt laughed, but he was so far from amused he was in a different country. “I wasn’t his son.”
    “But…” She looked up at him quickly, bewilderment on her open face, and then she looked down, stubbed her boot on the sidewalk. “Sorry.” Her fingers stroked along the gleaming side of the truck, and he watched the glide, imagined her finger touching something else. “It’s not my business.”
    She handed him his keys.
    He took them, stared at them. He’d thought to never have his truck back. And here it was. Looking just as beautiful as the day he had dropped it off at his ranger buddy’s extra garage.
    “I’ve kept up with the maintenance. The oil changes and tire rotation,” she said. “I’m sorry I was using it. When my car died, Mr. Meizner said…”
    “Stop apologizing.” The last thing he wanted to hear was anything his uncle had said or thought. “It looks fantastic.”
    He could see her shoulders relax and that bothered him, that she’d felt tense or worried, but why the hell should he care? He had his truck back.
    “When I heard that pissed off bastard got his hands on my truck I figured he’d sell it. Torch it. Chop it up for parts. Drive it off a cliff just for laughs.”
    Talon stared up at him. He knew he was ranting, but his surprise, his pleasure at seeing one of the few things he’d purchased still in one piece made him giddy. He shook his head and walked around it once again.
    “Never occurred to me it would still fucking be here. In one piece.”
    “Why…” She licked her lip and the sight of her pink tongue peeking out for just a second made the truck fade away. “Why wouldn’t he keep it for you?”
    He noticed her shivering so he shrugged out of his leather biker jacket and draped it around her shoulders. He’d forgotten how the cold air could still swirl down from the mountains, chilling even the spring nights.
    Her eyes widened and her slim fingers caught the leather before it fell. “You’ll be cold.” She reached out to place her hand on his forearm as if that alone could ward off the cold and, who knew, after tonight, after surviving the dreaded bachelor auction, having his date possibly be shaping up into something promising and learning that his truck was still on four wheels, anything could happen.
    “Not ruining the night dredging up that swamp.”
    She nodded. “Still, Colt, he was your…uncle? And I’m sorry for your loss.”
    “I didn’t lose anything,” he said. “I’d dance on his grave if I knew how to dance or where it is.”
    “But he was family.” She breathed. “Not everyone has a chance for that. Families don’t always get along, but…”
    Oh, hell. She’d been a foster. She probably thought him an ungrateful ass, but he couldn’t think of his childhood with that man