“Sorry to correct you, ma’am, but my name isn’t Jessie.”

“I never said it was.” She gave him a frustrated look. “What can I do for you, now that my shot is ruined? Again.”

Never a big talker, Easton wasn’t used to explaining himself. But he hadn’t gotten a look like this one since he’d used his twin sister’s favorite Cabbage Patch Kid as a way to teach himself physics.

What came up was bound to come down, no matter how high he catapulted the sucker with a rubber hose and two pine trees.

Easton cleared his throat, concentrating on speaking with his normal, deeper tone. No more squeaking. “I saw you on the side of the road. I thought you might need a ride or a phone to make a call for one.”

“Right, I’m sure.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm. “It’s not going to work. The road is state property, and no one can kick us out of here.”

Oh yes, she was ready to fight. Both hands on her hips now, the stunning redhead glared at him as if she could make him talk through force of eyeball violence alone. Which she probably could if he’d been up to no good. But he wasn’t, so he didn’t. Staring right back, Easton wondered how he had gotten himself in trouble so fast. Normally, it took a few months of a woman getting to know him before he had her so riled up.

“I really don’t understand what you mean, ma’am.”

Those ice-blue eyes narrowed at him, as if she were trying to see right through him. Then finally she sighed, shaking her head.

“No, you probably don’t. You’re probably the one guy all morning who wasn’t an evil minion. The light was perfect, you know,” she lamented, quicksilver emotions going from angry to disappointed. “The road was gorgeous, except everyone keeps stopping.”

Aware he’d lost control of the situation here, Easton chose his words carefully. “I could always back up a few, if that helps?”

A slender hand flapped dismissively at him. “No, it’s fine. It’s already ruined.”

Easton prided himself on being a relatively intelligent individual, but he had absolutely no idea what she was talking about.

She tilted her head to the side. “What? Jessie, I can’t hear you. Reception is awful up here.”

And she thought she was talking to someone. Great.

“Jessie. Jessie, I can’t—and he’s gone.” A curse escaped her lips, and the frustrated stamp of her foot was dangerously close to being cute.

“I’m going to call someone to help you.”