But just because Brett was rippling with more muscle than ever didn’t mean she needed him to do her dirty work for her. She could change her own tire, thank you very much. A fact he should know because he was the one who’d taught her how to do it. “You always were a sucker for a damsel in distress,” she said, rolling her eyes. “But I don’t need your help, Brett. I know what the hell I’m doing.”

He grinned but planted his feet firmly in place and crossed his bulky arms over his broad chest. “That’s fine. Then I’ll just stay here and keep you company until the spare is on.”

God, no. The last thing she wanted was him standing right behind her while she was bent over with sweat dripping from her temples as she panted heavily. That reminded her way too much of that time when he’d taken her over the back of the couch and had…Jesus. Never mind. This was exactly what she was afraid of.

She huffed out a breath. “Well, maybe I don’t want your company. Have you thought of that?”

He nodded. “I have.” Then he shrugged one strong shoulder. “But that’s just too damn bad. Because until that spare tire is on your car and you’re pulling away from me, I’m not going anywhere.”

Damn it. She had a feeling he would say that. “God, Brett. I’m not afraid of the dark.”

“I didn’t say you were,” he replied, a smidgeon of irritation leaching into his voice. “But I’m not leaving you out here by yourself, Sid. So either you put the tire on or move your ass aside and I’ll do it for you.”

His demanding tone sent shivers over her skin, and her mouth went dry. It was strange that, after almost a year later, he still had that effect on her. “Fine. But I’ll do it myself. I don’t need your help.”

“All right.”

Sidney turned back to her flat tire and kneeled down on a space blanket she’d borrowed from her emergency kit. It crinkled as she tried to reposition herself, and rough pieces of gravel poked through the thin silver material into her knees. But it was at least keeping her pants clean, which had been the overall idea anyway.

Sidney adjusted the beam on the flashlight directly onto the tire and then sat back on her heels and looked over the tools in front of her. She knew what she needed to do, but it was a little nerve-wracking having a certified mechanic, who also happened to be her ex-boyfriend, standing over her watching her do it. Who needed that kind of added pressure?

Brett must’ve noticed her hesitance. “What do you need to do before jacking the car up?” he asked, prompting her.