Jacob's Ladder: Gabe (Jacob's Ladder #1)

“Thank you.”

He extended his hand to me. “Let me start things over by formally introducing myself. I’m Gabe Renard.”

“I’m Rae Hart.”

“As in Hart and Daughter?”

“Exactly.”

Gabe shook my head. “I would say it’s nice to meet you, but under the current circumstances, I’m not so sure.”

I smiled. “It’s nice to meet you, too. Although I’m not a fan, I have heard of your band and your music.”

“You have? I hope you like it.”

“I’m not a huge fan of country, but from what I’ve heard of your music, I liked your songs.”

Gabe laughed. “I’m glad to hear it.”

“Tell me something—what are you doing all the way out here by yourself?” I brushed away a strand of loose hair that had escaped my ponytail. “I mean, it’s pretty evident you’re not the usual mudding type of guy.”

“I came out here to write.”

“You’re a songwriter?”

Gabe nodded. “The only one for our band.”

“Were you able to write anything?”

“Nope, but I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve had the worst writer’s block of my life the last couple of months. My band’s album is due in a couple of weeks, and I don’t have jack shit for us to record.”

“You came out here to write and got stuck in more ways than one? No offense, but you have really crappy luck.”

He laughed. “For the most part, that’s the truth, but in my defense, it’s not my Jeep. It belongs to my brother-in-law. I’ve never driven it so don’t know how to maneuver it well.”

“That doesn’t surprise me at all. You don’t impress me as the Jeep or off-roading type.”

“Just what type of guy am I?”

I tilted my head at him. “A sporty little convertible.”

Gabe laughed. “Good guess. I have a Mercedes AMG SL63 convertible roadster.”

“That’s a sweet ride.”

“You know cars?”

Rolling my eyes, I replied, “Knowing cars is my business.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever met a female mechanic.”

“Well you’re not meeting one today either. I run the business side. I’m only out here today because Candy pressured me into taking an emergency tow since our other workers were busy on other jobs.”

Gabe’s brows furrowed. “While I’m grateful you came out so quickly, but are you sure you’re the best one for the job?”

I rolled my eyes. “Just when I think you can’t possibly say anything more sexist, there you go.” When Gabe opened his mouth to argue, I held up my hand. “I pulled my first tow when I was ten years old. I might not be a certified mechanic, but I can guarantee I know just as much from learning on the job training with my dad.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You should be.”

A grin curved Gabe’s lips. “I don’t think I’ve ever met someone quite like you.”

“Sadly, I’ve met more than my fair share of sexist, narrow-minded men. Now if you don’t mind, I think I need to get to work.”

“Of course.”

After grabbing a tow strap out of the back of the truck, I attached it to the wrecker’s hitch before pulling it over to attach it to the Jeep’s hitch. At Gabe’s confusion, I asked, “What?”

“You’re not going to use the big hook thing?” Gabe asked.

I laughed. “I think you mean the boom.”

“I guess so.”

“If the tow strap doesn’t work, I’ll go to the boom. I don’t want to put any more pressure than I have to on the hitch.”

“Thank you for that. Jake will kill me if I bring his Jeep home all banged up.”

Once the straps were in place, I motioned to Gabe. “Okay, can you shift the gear to neutral?”

“Yeah, sure.” Gabe sloshed through the water to climb into the Jeep. “Done,” he called as he craned his head out the window.

Nodding, I got back inside the cab of the tow truck, threw the gear into drive, and eased my foot down on the accelerator. At first, the Jeep didn’t budge, but after switching to a lower gear, it started inching slowly out of the mud. Thankfully, it hadn’t been too submerged, or it might’ve taken even more effort. Once I had it completely out of the water, I hit the brake and then shifted the wrecker into park.

After grabbing my iPad on the seat beside me, I jumped back down. I placed it on the back of the wrecker before I went to undo the tow straps. When I finished, I deposited the soaking strap on the truck bed before taking off my waders. I then collected the iPad and walked back over to Gabe. “Okay, you’re free and ready to go just as soon as you sign the paperwork.”

Gabe jerked his hand through his hair. “Ms. Hart—”

“Rae,” I corrected.

He nodded. “Rae, I…uh…I just wanted to apologize for my earlier comments. I certainly never meant to disrespect you, and I really do appreciate the fact that you came out here so quickly. I’m sure it was an inconvenience on your day off.”

“Normally, I would say you might regret those words when you see how much it is for the emergency towing fee, which your insurance doesn’t cover, but I have a feeling you can easily cover it.”

Gabe grinned. “Yeah, I think I’m good.” I unlocked the screen and opened the program. “Just sign here.” I handed Gabe the Hart and Daughter pen that had a stylus on the end.

After he signed in a flourish, Gabe said, “Listen, after the way I acted, I’d really like to do something to make it up to you. Why don’t you let me buy you dinner to say thanks for all your help?”

And there it was: the offer for dinner, which I would have wagered good money was really just a lead-in for sex. While I wasn’t too accustomed to that happening with men here in my hometown, it had been standard practice when I was in the Legends Football League, or Lingerie Football, as some people like to disdainfully call it because of the uniforms—or maybe I should say the lack of uniforms. I’d played for the Atlanta Steam for three years when Linc was just out of diapers. During those years, I’d received countless invitations for dinner, AKA sex. I’d only taken one man up on the offer, and that was because he was a starter for the Falcons. It wasn’t one of my better decisions, not to mention the not-so-fabulous sex.

Turning my attention back to Gabe, I said curtly, “Our standard towing cost plus the emergency weekend tow fee will more than compensate me.”

“Come on, I’d really like to see more of you.” Gabe’s gaze slid from my eyes down to my breasts. “Maybe all of you.”

Ugh. What a creep. I couldn’t believe he was seriously standing there spouting that bullshit. Crossing my arms, I gave a low whistle. “Wow, do you seriously score women with those pickup lines?”

With a smirk, Gabe replied, “Women usually don’t make me work so hard to take them out.”

“Of course not. They usually throw themselves at you, right?”

“Yes.” He waggled his brows. “Along with their underwear.”

“They must not be on as tight of a budget as I am—I don’t have the money to waste my underwear by throwing them at some rocker with an overinflated ego.”