Four Weddings and a Werewolf (Entangled Covet) Read Free

through the window. “Car won’t start?”
    Veronica squinted, struggling to discern the expression on his face. As her eyes focused, a few features became clear. Warm gunmetal-gray eyes stared beneath a creased brow, and a ruggedly square jaw framed a set of perfectly plush lips.
    Mr. Grady’s cousin.
    “Thanks, but I’m good,” she hollered through her closed window. “I’m calling for a tow.”
    “Know how long it’ll take to get a truck out here on a Sunday night?” His eyes were gentle. Soft and trusting. “You could be sitting out here for hours.”
    Her head hit the headrest. “Just what I needed.”
    “I’m not a mechanic, but I know my way around cars.” His lips gave the hint of a smile, and her heart stuttered. “I can give it a quick look if you want? Make sure it’s not something simple like the battery?”
    Veronica didn’t know this guy from Adam—he could still be a killer—but there was sincerity in his gaze and honesty in his words. And he was a member of the Grady family, which meant he couldn’t be all that bad. They were one of the most reputable families in the area, minus Mr. Grady’s uncle who donned too much hair at the full moon.
    Besides, ax murderers weren’t this hot.
    “Could you?” She shrugged. “If you don’t mind?”
    “Of course I don’t.” He strode around the front of her car. “What’s going on?”
    “It won’t start.” Shaking off the last of the fright, Veronica cracked open the door so he could hear her more clearly. “It won’t even make a sound.”
    “Your battery might be dead.” He curved his fingers beneath the hood. “Open up and I’ll take a look.”
    Sliding her hand down the left side of her dash, Veronica found the hood latch and gave it a solid yank. He dove under immediately. She could only see his hands beneath the crack of the popped hood, so she sized them up as best she could. They were large and sturdy, with long fingers and red, knobby knuckles. He used his hands, that much was clear. He had to be a mechanic. Or maybe a boxer? His hands skimmed from one side of the engine bay to the other, sliding into compartments and tugging on the casing.
    “Getting into this thing is like breaking into Fort Knox,” he mumbled. “What year is it?”
    Veronica rose up off the seat, struggling to get a better view. “I just bought it,” she yelled. “Right off the truck.”
    “That’s odd.” He stopped tinkering and peered around the hood. “I’m going to pull my truck around to give you a jump.”
    “Okay,” she said, but he couldn’t have heard. He was already striding toward the old blue Chevy, the only other car in the lot.
    Veronica hadn’t realized she was still clutching her phone. She could call for a tow—it wasn’t too late. She hesitated, watching Mr. Grady’s cousin start up his truck and pull it in front of hers, then tossed her phone back into her purse. He acted as though this was going to be no big deal. Like he’d get her car started in two seconds. The truck’s lights were high and swept over the car, blinding her. She shielded her eyes as he jumped down with cables in his hands, and bent over the engine.
    “All right.” His voice was husky and low, a lazy drawl that was music to Veronica’s ears. He could’ve been reading the stock ticker aloud, and she would’ve been happy to listen. “Turn her on.”
    Veronica cranked on the key. When nothing happened, she turned it again and again. “Nothing,” she hollered.
    “Mind if I give it a try?” He was beside her driver’s door before she could blink.
    “Be my guest.” She didn’t know a lick about cars. She was lucky to know where to stick the key in the first place.
    With one hand resting on the top of the car, he stood aside for Veronica to get out, only he didn’t leave much room for her to pass. Veronica had to slink by. She moved quickly, her body jumping to life with sharp currents of electricity as their arms brushed.
    Ax murderer?