I watched as his long legs ate up the distance separating us. Everything about him said he was in control and command. I took a deep, steadying breath, willing my emotions to go on lockdown. I unbuckled my seat belt and pushed open the door. “Hey,” I greeted as I slid out of the SUV.

Griffin scowled at my older-than-dirt SUV. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I said, forcing levity into my voice. “Big Bertha here just decided to overheat on me.”

I didn’t even get a flicker of a smile with my Big Bertha comment. Instead, Griffin rounded the vehicle to get a better look at the smoke. “I’ll call a tow.”

“No!” I tempered my tone. “No. Thank you. I just need to wait for it to stop smoking before I can open the hood. I’ve got antifreeze in the back.”

Griffin’s expression hardened even further. “It’s not safe for you to drive like this. Or for you to open the hood without work gloves. You got some of those?”

I licked my lips, cursing the fact that I didn’t even have a towel in my SUV. “No. But I can just wait.”

“Or you could call a mechanic,” Griffin argued.

I bristled at his tone. “Look, I’ve dealt with this countless times before. I know what to do. It’s not a permanent fix, but it’ll work good enough for now. I’ll get the heater hose repaired when I can.”

Griffin tipped his head back as if praying for patience. “I have gloves in my truck.”

“We still have to wait for it to stop smoking. You’ll be late for whatever it is you were going to do. There’s no need for you to sit around here with me.” Because I couldn’t take Griffin’s probing stare—the one that seemed to see everything. I already knew that my life was a mess, that I was barely hanging on by a thread. I didn’t want anyone else witnessing my disaster.

“I’m not leaving you on the side of the road alone,” he growled.

“Okay, then.” Apparently, that finely tuned moral compass didn’t allow for damsels in distress. The thing was, while I was in distress, I was far from a damsel.

Griffin strode back to his truck, each step an attack on the ground. He wrenched open the cab door and rustled around for something. After a minute, he slammed the door closed and walked back in my direction, a pair of gloves in hand.

I swallowed hard, forcing my gaze away from his broad shoulders and scowling face. Instead, I chose to survey my still-smoking vehicle. The white billows were a little less now. But Big Bertha showed no signs of stopping altogether.

“Where are the kids?”