“Didn’t mean to imply you were.” He blew out a breath. “And that’s my cue to exit. See y’all there.”

He left and Gavin led Sarah to his truck. “When are you going to get Herbie fixed?” she asked.

“Her—what? Who?”

“I’ve named your truck Herbie.”

He blinked. “You can’t name my truck Herbie.”

“Why not?”

“Because.”

“Because . . . why?”

He huffed a laugh. “Because . . . well . . . because it’s my truck and Sheila isn’t a Herbie.”

“It’s Herbie to me.”

He thought he heard her mutter something about temperamental and high maintenance under her breath and smothered a smile. “Well, at least if you’re going to give it a guy name, give it something a little more masculine. Wasn’t Herbie something like a . . . a . . . Volkswagen bug? This is a truck. I’m sure there’s a law somewhere that says trucks can’t be Herbies.”

“I like Herbie. I don’t like Sheila.”

“Why not? Because it’s a female name?”

“No.” She scowled at him. “Because it’s too close to Sarah.” She slammed the truck’s passenger door.

Trying not to laugh, Gavin climbed into the driver's seat and cranked Herbie. No, Sheila. He glanced at the woman beside him, arms crossed, jaw jutted, eyes narrowed. His heart thundered at the unexpected rush of feeling . . . affection? . . . that swept through him. She cut him a look from the corner of her eye and her expression softened. He paused for a moment, then slid a hand under her ponytail, pulled her to the middle of the console, and pressed a kiss to her lips. A light one that demanded nothing, but hopefully expressed a fraction of his current emotions. He ended it almost before it began—and definitely before he was ready. She blinked at him, wide-eyed.

He couldn’t help the smile that spread. “I like you, Sarah Denning. A lot.”

She swallowed and cleared her throat. “I like you too, Gavin. A lot.”

“I’m not like your father, I promise.”

“I know.”

“And baggage doesn’t scare me.”

“You don’t know mine.”

“But I feel like I know you. And the truth is, I don’t mind temperamental and high maintenance when it comes to you.”

“What!” She punched him in the arm and he laughed.

She fought it, but finally gave in and joined him in the mirth. For a few seconds, they shared some much-needed relief from the constant tension that had plagued them for the past few weeks.

“You’re something else,” she said. “Thank you for helping me find laughter when I sometimes think I won’t ever laugh again.”

He kissed her forehead. “Time will help.”

“I know.”