That Second Chance (Getting Lucky #1)(26)

I like that about her.

“Shit.” I rub the back of my head and think back to the panicked look in her eyes when I found her in her car. “I kind of wish I’d known that when I was pulling you out of your car. I would have reassured you more that everything was going to be okay.”

From across the cab, she places her hand on my leg, her touch blazing a shot of heat to my core, warming me up in an instant. I eye her hand for a brief second, taking in how small it is compared to my thigh. “You were wonderful. Don’t second-guess yourself. You really kept me calm and helped me control my hysteria.”

“Still, I feel like I would have handled you differently.”

“There’s no way you could have known; don’t even think twice about it. I thought you did a wonderful job. Very compassionate. And the way you tackled that hill without taking a second to catch your breath? Impressive.”

I glance at her quickly. “Want to know a secret?”

“Always.” She perks up, turning toward me.

I lick my lips, humor dripping from my tongue. “The entire time I was climbing the hill, I was praying to whoever might listen to not let me slip. The guys would have never let me hear the end of it. Slip down the hill with victim in arms . . . yeah, not good.”

“Well, you made it look seamless.”

“Didn’t feel like it, but thank you.”

She crosses one tan leg over the other, the hem of her dress coming higher on her thigh, showing off just how toned her legs are. Christ. I tear my gaze away, remembering to focus on the road ahead—moose are prevalent in this area, after all.

I clear my throat, trying to take my mind off the expanse of sexy leg to my left. “So . . . algebra.” I inwardly roll my eyes from the way my voice squeaks. “Uh, what made you choose math to teach?”

From the corner of my eye, I can see her smile as she fidgets in her seat. “Is it weird to say math chose me?”

“How did it choose you?”

“I was in seventh grade and a total outcast. I didn’t really have any friends since I was more focused on my schoolwork than being the popular girl, and that was okay, but it wasn’t until I found myself lonely on the weekends while everyone else was going to the mall and to the movies that I realized I was in desperate need of friends. Well, trying to make friends in middle school is like trying to convince Friends fans that Joey and Rachel should have been together: pretty much impossible. I was sitting outside my favorite teacher’s classroom one day at lunch when these kids were walking by talking about how they needed someone to be on their math team. I was pretty decent at math, so on the spur of the moment, I stood up and told them I was available. It took a little bit of convincing, but they ended up giving me a chance, and just like that, I was a mathlete.”

I can’t seem to wipe the stupid smile off my face from hearing the genuine excitement in Ren’s voice.

“From there, I fell in love, and hard.”

“With one of the guys on your math team?”

“Nope.” She pops the p. “I fell in love with math. I was infatuated with solving problems, and it became my life. Yes, I had friends, but more importantly, I found a new appreciation for the subject. It was so cut and dried—you either did it right or you didn’t, no gray area. It became my safety blanket, and when I was applying for colleges, I knew exactly what I wanted to do: share my love of math with kids, show them the kind of magic it is.”

I’m silent for a second, soaking in her story, appreciating the honesty and passion behind it. She’s the first person I’ve ever met who’s had such passion for numbers. Hell if I don’t weirdly find it sexy.

There has to be something wrong with me.

“You must think I’m silly.”

“No.” I shake my head. “Not even a little. I think it’s . . . hell, I think it’s amazing, the love you have for something we’ve all taken advantage of. Math is everyday.”

She practically bounces in her seat when she answers. “It so is. Ah, you get me, Griffin.”

I chuckle. “Yes, I get you.”

On a deep sigh, she lolls her head to the side. “So tell me a secret about Port Snow, something only locals really know.”

I pause the truck at a stop sign and shoot her a quick glance, only to find a huge smile on her face and her sweet lips wet and plump, calling out to me. It’s been a long time since I’ve been truly attracted to a woman to the point that I keep sneaking glances at her. But there’s something else about her that holds my attention. Maybe it’s that she’s new, or that she doesn’t know my past, or maybe it’s her habit of asking question after question, not letting there be a moment of silence between us.

I hate to admit that I kind of like it.

Contemplating this latest question, I drag my hand over my mouth. “Hmm . . . have you been to the general store yet?”

“I popped in for some basic items like peanut butter and jelly and plastic plates. Why? Is there something I need to know about the place? Is there a secret door I don’t know about? Like, you pull on a lever that’s really an old baguette, and a shelf opens to a hidden lair?”

“What?” I chuckle. “No, but interesting imagination you have there.”

“It can get me into trouble sometimes.”