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“Well, I blew the tire, and I can’t change it because I don’t have a spare.” Bitterly, I laugh, shaking my head. “And actually, even if I had a spare, I couldn’t change it because I don’t know how. Add it to the list of reasons I’m useless and a failure at being a man.”

“Oh my,” Dryden comments humorously. “Having a pity party, are we?”

Sighing, I thump my head back against the cool exterior of the car. “Yeah,” I admit.

“How self-serving of you. Get up before your ass freezes tothe ground.”

Staying seated, I angle my head so I can look up at him. His hands are on his hips, a frown on his face as he looks around.

“Do you know how to change a tire?” I ask him, suddenly curious.

I like Dryden. A lot of folks around town aren’t super fond of him, finding him rude and aloof and arrogant. I’ve heard it said several times that he suffers from a superiority complex. And sure, I can maybe see where they’re coming from, but when I hold Dryden up next to my father—whodefinitelyhas a superiority complex—I don’t feel like they can compare. I don’t think Dryden believes he’s better than everyone else. I think he believes he can’ttrustanyone else.

“No,” he replies, sounding every bit as arrogant as everyone thinks he is. “What’s the point of having money if I do all that myself?”

I laugh, shaking my head. I think again of how much my father would like Dryden. There’s a very fine line between what sort of behaviors my father expects from a man—he’d see being unable to change my own tire as a weakness but, on the flip side, applaud Dryden’s choosing not to do so because he’s rich enough to pay for it.

“Yeah, I guess. I feel like I should at least know how, though,” I admit. “Just like I should know how to tile my own bathroom and paint my walls and”—I wave a hand out in front of me—“do whatever else needs to be done.”

Dryden moves a step closer to nudge his toe against my leg instead of the tire. Holding a hand down, he waits until I graspit before he yanks me to my feet.

“Enough. This isn’t the end of the world. And because you seem to be suffering from some sort of crisis of masculinity, let me remind you that you should not be measuring anyone with your family’s yardstick.”

I raise my eyebrows at him. I don’t think I mentioned anything about my family. He rolls his eyes, dusting off his palms like my hand was dirty from the time I spent sitting on the ground.

“You’re not that hard to figure out, Oliver. Stop pouting about a flat tire. If you had driven up on a woman, stranded on the side of the road in the same situation, would you be holding her to the same accountability you’re holding yourself? No?” He raises an eyebrow at me. “Don’t be a jackass, Oliver. It doesn’t suit you.”

I can feel my face flush, and I look away from his dark eyes to glance down at the flat. He’s right, and I already knew he was right even before the words came out of his mouth. But knowing I’m being ridiculous and stopping myself from being ridiculous are two different things. The ideals I grew up being trained to believe in aren’t so easy to ignore in times like this.

“You’re right,” I tell Dryden.

“I know,” he says immediately, plucking his sunglasses up and settling them back on his face. “Now, if I’m not mistaken, that’s your tow coming up the road. I’ll wait for you in the car.”

“I can get a ride with Wayne,” I tell his retreating back. “I don’t want to ruin your morning.”

Instead of replying, he slips back into the driver’s seat of thePorsche. The engine rumbles to life, the low purr loud in the quiet morning. He doesn’t drive off, waiting for me despite my telling him he doesn’t need to bother. Smiling a little to myself, I go meet Wayne as he brings the tow truck to a stop in front of my SUV.

Chapter Nineteen

NILS

The sound of an unfamiliar engine distracts me from where I’d been sketching out measurements for a chicken coop extension on the grass. Frowning, I walk around the side of the house to look, just as a sleek little Porsche parks in front of my house. The windows—tinted black—obscure the occupants of the vehicle. It doesn’t matter, anyway. There’s only one person in Siren’s Point who drives a vehicle so ridiculous.

I take a step toward the driver’s side, meaning to find out why Dryden Roy—whom I’ve never once spoken to, unless nods of greeting count—is at my house. Until right now, I wouldn’t have even thought he knew where I lived. Before I can get there, though, the passenger door opens, and a familiar silver-blond head pops out. Oliver smiles at me, but the expression isn’t quite right, and discomfort tightens my stomach.

“Oli,” I greet him, rounding the hood and looking him up and down. What the hell is he doing with DrydenRoy, and where the hell is his own car?

“Hey, Nils, sorry,” he apologizes immediately, which only makes the worry grow. He sways toward me like he wants a hello kiss, but flushes and retreats with a furtive look toward the Porsche. The trunk pops audibly. Leaning down, he ducks his head back inside the cab. “Thanks for the ride.”

I follow him toward the rear of the car, taking the bag from him once he pulls it from the trunk. His face reddens further. The moment the trunk is shut and we’re walking toward the front steps, the engine growls as Dryden reverses in an arc and leaves. I watch him go until the taillights burn red and he turns off my drive. Next to me, Oliver is humming, fingers restless against his side as he fidgets with the fabric on his pant leg.

“Wha-what-what-what ha-ha-happened?” I ask, still a little worried, even though he appears fine. There’s not a hair out of place. In fact, he looks beautiful—cheeks pink with cold and embarrassment, blue-green eyes bright in the sun, and jaw shadowed with gold scruff. Holding up a hand, I beckon him inside.

“Nothing. Well, I had a flat tire. Shredded it, honestly. Luckily, they’re still within the warranty, though, so it shouldn’t be too big of a deal to get it replaced. I don’t even have a spare, which I’d forgotten about until this morning when I needed one.” He shakes his head, rolling his eyes at himself as he trails me to the kitchen. “Dryden drove up while I was waiting for the tow. I called Wayne, but he said there was some sort of accident, so it took a little while for him to get there. Also, hi.”

He leans in and kisses me the way he’d wanted to do outside.Before he can pull away, I place a hand on his neck and keep him close enough to kiss him again. I missed him.

“I wasn’t sure if you were into the whole kissing-in-front-of-other-people thing, otherwise I would have greeted you outside,” Oliver explains.