Her face shone. The points of her smile dug into those expressive cheeks. “Now that we have that out of the way, maybe I can concentrate enough to talk with you about science.”

When Luke arrived back at the Center after lunch the next day, he found Finley waiting for him in the hallway. She was biting the side of her bottom lip, phone in hand.

His stomach knotted. “What’s the matter?”

“A woman just called to report a litter of abandoned puppies underneath her back porch.”

When he’d seen Finley, he’d worried that something was wrong with her. But, of course, this was about animals.

“Would you be willing to head over there with me to retrieve them?” she asked.

“Yes.”

Finley led him into the supply room and handed him a travel crate. He watched her add clean towels to it. She had on loose army green overalls with a white top. Modest. Yet the overalls’ sides were open down to her waist and he couldn’t look away from the glimpses that gave him of the shirt beneath. The cotton followed the lines of her slim body as she moved.

He carried the crate to his truck and followed the directions she provided.

Since his release from prison, he’d enjoyed every minute he’d spent driving. He’d fallen in love with cars as a kid. He’d liked them even more when he’d started learning about their mechanics. Through all the changes in his life, his passion for cars had remained.

This V-8 engine, thanks to all the work he’d done on it, sounded like a dream. His truck had an incredibly strong chassis. Two-axle drivetrain. Front and rear bumpers made of steel. He’d perfected the tightness of the suspension. His truck drove like a classic truck should—

Finley gasped and braced a hand against the dashboard as a car pulled out in front of them.

“It’s okay,” he said, smoothly braking before building back up to speed.

She balled her hands in her lap.

She was not an uptight person. But on their trip to her dad’s house, her body language in his passenger seat had sometimes been tense. “What’s with you and cars?”

“Ever since Chase’s accident, I’m . . . jumpy when driving. Cars, well, they can be deadly.”

He shot a look at her and registered dark bangs and uncommonly blue eyes. His focus returned forward. “I’m a defensive driver. You’ll be safe while I’m driving you places.”

“You can’t promise that.”

“I just did.”

“No one can promise that.”

“I can promise you that you’re safer with me behind the wheel than when you drive yourself places. No telling what you’d do if a deer ran in front of your car, or if you saw a skinny dog on the side of the road.”

He caught a glimpse of her smile. “Point taken.”