“I haven’t had time to be in a relationship,” he said. “Now let’s go. I’ll come back to fix your tire and get the car to you.”

That all sounded good, but there was more sympathy in his gaze than she was comfortable with. “Why?” she asked.

He looked confused at the question, like it didn’t compute. And for a guy whose job was, literally, to help people, to save them from whatever situation they’d found themselves in, it probably didn’t compute. He was programmed to help people, to save their asses, no matter how pathetic the situation.

“Why would I help you?” he repeated slowly, obviously still baffled by her. “Because I can. Because I want to.”

But she didn’t want to need saving. Not by him, not by anyone. She did her own saving, thank you very much. And if she could’ve budged those lug nuts, she’d have changed her own stupid tire. “But I don’t need saving.”

“I hear you,” he said, calm and quiet, like maybe he was talking her off a ledge, and in some ways she supposed he was. “But it’s raining,” he reminded her. “And you’re wearing a pretty dress, which you’d get dirty changing your own tire.”

She looked down at herself. She’d almost forgotten she was dressed up. Her knees were a mess. And the dress was clinging to her thighs a little bit. Aidan’s clothes were doing the same now. He looked good wet. Too good.

“Come on,” he said, grabbing her hand, pulling her across the lot before she could think of stopping him.

When he pulled open the passenger door of his truck, she met his gaze. “Okay,” she said. “But I want to note that this isn’t a rescue. This is a favor that you’ll let me return.”

“Sure,” he said. “Just get out of the rain and in the damn truck.”

“No, I mean it, Aidan. You have to let me pay you back somehow.”

He dropped his head and muttered something beneath his breath about the entire female race being more stubborn than a pack of Kincaids. “Fine,” he said, meeting her gaze again. “You owe me a favor. Get in.”

“And you’ll let me repay you.”

One brow shot up.

“Say it,” she said. She was probably proving his point about her being stubborn, but she didn’t care. “Say you will, or no go.”

He gave her a long, hard alpha-man look she imagined usually worked for him, but she held her ground. It was the one thing she knew about him more than anything else—he was strong, inside and out. Strong willed, strong minded, and she needed to be the same to stand up to him.

Finally he let out a low laugh and shook his head. “You’re something else, you know that?”

“I do know,” she assured him. “And …?”