Steal My Heart (Prosperity Ranch Book 2)

by Heather B. Moore

  “Love you, too.” When Evie hung up with her mom, she didn’t return to her laptop for a while. What would it be like to work in Prosper? Well, she knew what it would be like. She’d be in a rut, that’s what. If she thought dating was hard in college with hundreds of single guys around, Prosper would be impossible.

  Maybe she should take her car into the lube and oil place today before they closed. Get a head start on whatever car stuff needed to be done. Then, Evie could refocus on outlining her paper.

  By the time she reached the parking lot where her car was, the afternoon had grown late. Evie unlocked her car and climbed in.

  She shook away the memory of Carson Hunt offering her a ride to Prosper. He was a presumptuous guy. Starting the car, she shifted into reverse. As she did, something whined. A gear, or something? Whatever it was, it didn’t sound good. She shifted into park, then drive. The car shuddered before moving forward. Huh.

  Evie bit her lip as she drove slower than normal out of the parking lot. Was the whining sound louder? Was something going to explode on her? She passed a group of students, and by the turn of their heads, she knew they’d noticed the sound, too.

  Hopefully, it would be a quick fix so she could leave Friday. But when she pulled into the lube and oil shop, the attendant came out to meet her, already shaking his head.

  “You need to take this to the mechanic down the road,” he said.

  “What do you think is wrong with it?” she asked.

  “My guess is that you’ve got to replace some belts,” he said. “We can’t do that here.”

  Evie sighed. “My brother said I needed to get the oil changed before this weekend since I’m driving a couple hundred miles.”

  The attendant merely shrugged. “Get the belts fixed, then bring it back here. We’re open until seven tonight and tomorrow until five. Good luck.”

  Evie pulled out of the parking lot, wincing at the continued whine. Luckily, the mechanic shop was only a few blocks away. Before she went into the office, she called her oldest brother, Holt. He managed Prosperity Ranch for her dad, and he was less likely to get wound up and worry. His matter-of-fact personality was very much needed right now.

  “What’s up, sis?” he answered on the third ring.

  “Have you ever heard of Johnson’s Auto in San Antonio?”

  “Uh, not sure,” he said. “What’s up?”

  “My car sounds like a crying baby,” Evie said.

  Holt chuckled. “Can you be more specific?”

  She explained all the sounds and what the attendant at the lube and oil shop had told her. “What if they try to charge me for a bunch of stuff here?”

  “Well, you’re not driving your car as is,” he said. “Go inside and tell them what’s going on. When they diagnose it, call me.”

  “Okay,” Evie said, feeling a little better. “Can you talk to them instead?”

  “I could . . .” Holt drawled, “but this is a good opportunity for you do this on your own.”

  “When I get my first real paycheck, I’m going to dump this beast.”

  Holt laughed. “I bet you will, sis. And I wouldn’t blame you. The car has seen better days, but it’s important that you be safe. Want me to come and pick you up on Saturday?”

  Evie knew if she said yes, her brother would do it. But he was busy keeping the entire family afloat. “No, worst case I’ll take the bus.”

  “Ah.” Another laugh from Holt. “We’ll never hear the end of that, I’m sure.”

  She cracked a smile. No, they would not.

  Carson tossed the duffle into the bed of his truck. He didn’t need much during spring break, and his laptop was snug in his backpack on the truck’s bench. He was mostly caught up with school work, but he assumed there’d be some downtime to finish off his part of the group project, plus any grading that might come in from the biology class.

  Grandad had already called him twice this morning, and Carson had to smile at that. The old guy was pretty dang excited about his visit. And he could only hope that it would be a win-win for both of them.

  Possibly his only regret was that his brother Rhett wasn’t here to experience any of these milestones. Not Grandad’s recent acquisitions. Not Carson’s college graduation. Not this new opportunity in Prosper.

  Rhett had been the older brother who’d paved the way for Carson in sports. Carson had been the one to play in college, but Rhett had held his own in high school. He’d also included Carson in all the activities, and it was like he had an automatic friend group the first day of high school.

  Sometimes, moments like this, when Carson was transitioning from one thing to another, was when he missed his brother the most. He didn’t even want to imagine a time when Grandad would no longer be around. Every time Carson saw him, the guy looked more and more ancient, yet he was the most spunky man alive.

  Carson started up his truck and pulled away from the curb. The streets of San Antonio were quiet this early on a Saturday morning. His route leaving the city took him to the bus station.

  Carson glanced over at the line of people, a bunch of them probably college students, waiting to get on the bus. A blonde woman caught his attention, and Carson did a double-take. She reminded him of Evie Prosper. But Evie had a car, right? She’d been insistent that she didn’t want to carpool with him. Regardless, Carson found himself slowing down and studying the woman in his rearview mirror.

  It was her. And she was taking a bus? To Prosper?

  Carson swerved into the center lane of the road and did a U-turn. He pulled alongside the curb and stopped in front of the bus station.

  Yep. Evie Prosper was in the bus line, a backpack slung over her shoulder as she scrolled through something on her phone. Her ratty jeans fit her legs like a second skin, and her pale pink T-shirt almost matched the morning sunrise.

  Rolling down the passenger window, he called out, “Evie Prosper!”

  She glanced up, her brows lifted. Her mouth formed an O when she saw him, and then something interesting happened. She blushed.

  Carson motioned with his hand for her to come toward the truck. He could see her hesitation clear as day, but then she glanced at the bus, and back to him. Soon, she was striding toward him, hitching her backpack on her shoulder.

  “You taking the bus home?” Carson asked when she neared.

  Evie puffed out a breath. “Yeah. My car’s in the shop.”

  “The offer’s still good,” he said. “Heading out now, and you’ll be home before any bus can get you there.”

  She bit her lip, glancing back at the bus, then said, “I already bought a ticket, and there’s no refunds.”

  “Tell you what, I won’t charge you for gas.”

  The edge of her mouth lifted, and it was perhaps the first almost-smile he’d seen from her.

  “That’s mighty gentlemanly of you.” She was teasing him, and he knew in that moment, she was going to ride with him.

  “I’m happy to oblige, ma’am.” He pulled his own backpack closer to him. “Come on, there’s plenty of room. Got a suitcase or anything? The bed’s wide open.”

  “No,” she said, reaching for the door handle and popping it open. “I only have my backpack.”

  He must have looked surprised, because she said, “I might not like living in a small town, but I’m not high maintenance.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said, pulling away from the curb the second her door had shut. As he did another U-turn, Evie rolled up her window.

  “Thanks for this,” she said, her voice quiet.

  He glanced over at her. She was holding her backpack in her lap, and her gaze seemed pensive.

  “I’m stopping for gas,” he said. “Do you need anything, like breakfast?”

  Her gaze flitted to his. “I’m not hungry.”

  He couldn’t quite read her, but as he pulled into the gas station, he decided to get her something anyway. It was nearly an hour drive. “There’s plenty of room for your backpack on the bench,” he said
. “Or you can put mine on the floor. But I do insist you wear a seatbelt.”

  She smirked, and he climbed out of the truck. Once he had the thing full of gas, he headed into the gas station. He picked up a couple of water bottles, two packaged muffins, a bag of pretzels, and corn nuts, since he wasn’t sure what she liked.

  Road trip food completed, he returned to the truck. His backpack was still on the seat, and hers was on the floor, but she’d pulled out her laptop. “Homework?”

  “Yeah.” She furrowed her brow when she saw the stuff he bought.

  “Have what you want.” He set the sack in the middle of the bench. “I don’t want to eat alone.”

  She scoffed, and then to his surprise, she took one of the muffins out and unwrapped it.

  Carson was oddly satisfied that she’d accepted his food offering.

  The first part of the drive was quiet, although Carson drummed up question after question in his head. He tried to be respectful of whatever homework she was doing. But it was impossible to ignore the fact that he had a beautiful female passenger in his truck, one he kept stealing glances at. Evie absently played with her hair when she wasn’t typing. She’d braided it, and she kept curling the ends around her fingers.

  It amused him that she was so fidgety. Had he noticed that before? He hadn’t.

  “What’s your paper on?” he finally asked.

  Evie looked up with a start, almost like she’d forgotten he was there.

  “Oh, um, I’m researching statistics on newspaper readers switching to online sources.”

  “Are you majoring in statistics or math?”

  “No, graphic journalism.”

  Carson held her blue gaze for a second. She wasn’t wearing any of that fancy eyeliner or lip gloss this morning. He liked it. “Never heard of it.”

  “I kind of made it up,” she said, her lips curving into a smile. “I mean, my major is graphic arts, and my minor is journalism.”

  Carson glanced at the road, then back to her. “Sounds interesting. What will you do when you graduate?”

  “Create graphics for a newspaper website.”

  “Hmm. Not what I pictured you doing.”

  She folded her arms. “What did you picture me doing?”

  He shrugged. “Maybe a teacher or something. Like at an elementary school.”

  Evie raised her brows. “Really? Why?”

  Well, this conversation had taken a sharp turn. Carson scrubbed a hand through his hair. He needed to tread very, very carefully here. “I don’t know you all that well to pass judgment.”

  She smirked, her blue eyes dancing with amusement. “That’s a cop-out, and you know it. Spill it, Hunt.”

  Hunt, huh? “Okay, I just thought that someone majoring, or minoring, in journalism, would be more . . .” He hesitated.

  Her gaze didn’t move from his face. “More . . . ?” she prompted.

  “You know,” he stalled. “More street smart? Someone who would steer clear of guys like Devon. And someone who’d be pestering everyone with questions.”

  She laughed. The sound caught him off-guard, and then he was smiling, too. “What?”

  Evie waved a hand in front of her face as if she were fanning herself. “I’ll be staring at a computer all day, not interviewing witnesses to crimes on the street.”

  “So it’s like a computer job?”

  “Yeah, mostly,” she said. “There will probably be staff meetings where we brainstorm stuff.”

  “Sounds interesting,” he said.

  “You sound so convinced.”

  He shrugged, still smiling. “Maybe you can show me some of the stuff you’re working on, so I can get a fuller picture.”

  She quirked a brow. “Maybe.”

  The next few miles passed in more silence, then he had to ask, “Okay, so tell me why you’re so anti-small town living, and what else did you say? You’re opposed to Sunday dinners and raising babies?”

  She arched a brow. “You have a good memory, Mr. Hunt.”

  “Well, thank you, Miss Prosper.”

  “I’ll let you be the judge of Prosper yourself,” she said. “My parents love it. My brother Holt is there for good, too.”

  “Fair enough.”

  She closed the laptop and slipped it into her backpack.

  “Finished already?”

  Evie shrugged. “I need to save something to do at home.”

  “Is it really that bad in Prosper?” he asked in a low tone.

  She sighed. “It’s not that bad; it’s just not what I want.”

  He nodded. “Where do you see yourself in five years?”

  “Is that the TA coming out in you? One of the professors rubbed off?”

  “Maybe . . .” He glanced at her.

  “I don’t know where I’ll be in five years.” She leaned forward and fiddled with the radio. Yeah, there wasn’t a CD player or Bluetooth in his truck. Just a radio. “How old is your truck?”

  “I was waiting for you to ask that,” he said. “It was my grandad’s, and he gifted it to me when I got recruited for football.” His gaze slid over to her again. She’d crossed those long legs of hers and was currently picking at some threads on one of the ragged holes.

  “That was nice of him,” she said. “You two must be close?”

  “Yeah. He raised me and my brother, Rhett.” Before he could say any more, or decide how much he wanted to say in the first place, a car fishtailed in front of them. Carson slammed on the brakes and was able to stop before they became the third car in the chain reaction.

  The music was still playing in the cab of the truck, but Carson’s thundering heartbeat drowned it out.

  “You okay?” he asked, looking over at Evie.

  She nodded, but her face was pale. “Yeah. You?” Her hand went to his arm, her fingers cool on his skin.

  “I’m fine.” He unclipped his seatbelt. “I’ll see if anyone needs help. You might need to call 911.”

  “Okay,” Evie said in a barely-there voice.

  Carson slid out of the truck and checked on the car that he’d nearly hit. An older couple was inside, and they both looked shaken up. Carson opened the driver’s door. “Ma’am, are you all right?”

  The woman with thin gray hair rubbed at her neck. “I’m all right.”

  The older man in the passenger seat had eyes as wide as the moon. “We damn near hit that motorcycle. It just spun out of control in front of us.”

  Carson’s heart sank. He hadn’t seen the motorcycle, but motorcycle crashes rarely had a good outcome. He hurried around the spun-out car and jogged to where he could see a human form on the side of the road. His stomach clenched. The person didn’t seem to be moving, but at least he was wearing a helmet.

  Images flashed through Carson’s mind. Images of another motorcycle wreck, one he’d never witnessed but had imagined many times. The guy lying on the side of the road right now could have been Rhett. It had been Rhett, and he hadn’t survived.

  Carson wanted to turn away, turn back time and not be here, in this moment. But what if someone’s quick actions had been able to save Rhett’s life?

  Carson pushed forward, despite the fact that he wanted to puke. He knelt by the inert form and only focused on one thing—not the blood or the possible broken bones—but the man’s neck above his collar. Carson placed two fingers on the man’s neck to feel his pulse.

  He closed his eyes, blocking out all sounds. Voices of other motorists who must have stopped. Someone saying they were calling an ambulance. Carson pressed on the man’s skin, trying to concentrate.

  Thrum. Thrum. Thrum.

  The man’s heart was still beating.

  Carson opened his eyes as voices drew closer. Someone set a hand on his shoulder. Another person knelt on the other side of the victim and unbuttoned his shirt. “He’s alive,” a voice proclaimed.

  “The ambulance is on its way.”

  “Young man, can you move back?” another said. “We need to make way for the par
amedics.”

  Was the ambulance already here?

  Carson had lost all sense of time and perspective. He moved back, but stayed on his knees.

  He couldn’t leave until he knew the man was going to be all right. As the EMTs moved in and loaded the man on the stretcher, still Carson didn’t move.

  Not until someone placed a hand on his shoulder.

  “Carson, let’s get back in the truck,” Evie said, her tone quiet. “The ambulance is leaving.”

  He should move. But somehow, he was frozen to the spot.

  “Carson.”

  Evie grasped his hand, tugging him upward. Only then did he move to his feet.

  Evie wasn’t sure how to read Carson. He’d jumped out of the truck and ran to help the fallen motorcyclist. He’d even checked the guy’s pulse. And now? Carson’s eyes seemed vacant, and he wasn’t answering any of her questions. She didn’t know a lot of medical stuff, but she wondered if he was in shock or something.

  She really should drive, but Carson was climbing into the driver’s seat.

  When Evie settled into the passenger seat, Carson still hadn’t started the truck. Both of his hands were on the wheel as he stared straight ahead.

  “Carson?” she said.

  He didn’t answer her or look at her.

  Evie’s stomach tightened. Something was wrong, and not just because they’d nearly gotten into an accident. It went deeper than that.

  “Carson?” she asked again, then shifted closer to him. His breathing was shallow, and his knuckles white from his tight grip. She placed a hand on his back. That got his attention, and he exhaled.

  Evie moved her hand up his back, slowly, then back down, as if she were giving him a very light back rub. She kept going, because she could see his grip easing on the steering wheel, and his breathing was becoming more normal.

  “I think I should drive,” she said. “I don’t know what’s going on right now, but let me help. Please?”

  His head slowly turned, and his dark eyes focused on her. “Can you drive a truck?” he rasped.

  Evie would have laughed, but she knew this wasn’t the time. She’d been driving trucks since she was fourteen. “I can drive a truck,” she said. “My dad and brothers made sure of that.”