That pretty much summed up his mood since leaving her bed the previous night.

She’d thrown him for a goddamn loop, after which he’d been treated to a nice little put-down by her mother on the way out. For a brief second, he’d actually felt sorry for Hayden. Mommy Dearest appeared to be about as maternal as a cobra. Not that he expected Mom to embrace him and invite him to her next women’s luncheon. After all, he’d just walked out of Hayden’s town house, hair all f**ked-up, shirt untucked, with a look on his face that clearly said, Pardon my appearance, I just plowed your daughter. She’d looked him over and sniffed her judgment. Well, I guess we’re all entitled to a few mistakes now and again, she’d said, clearly pegging him as said mistake.

After that little heartwarming confrontation, one thing had been abundantly clear. He’d made the right decision in leaving. Prior to that, he’d felt slightly conflicted about walking out, thinking maybe he’d overreacted. Her actions hadn’t seemed malicious or intentionally baiting. Then he’d been reminded by her mother why they’d wisely agreed to limit their physical relationship to one night. He didn’t need these people making him feel like gum on the bottom of their polished shoes. And she clearly wanted nothing more to do with him now that she’d gotten her fill.

None of his rationalizations, however, did a thing to calm his constant, consuming craving for her. Her total abandonment, her screams of pleasure, drowned every other intelligent thought out until he only had the ability to think of next time. What he’d do to her, say to her, to get her wet. How many times he could make her come before finding his own release. Pointless thoughts, since she’d made it clear it was a one-time thing. Thoughts that wouldn’t give him a moment’s peace, all the same.

The bus door opened and Hayden climbed out. Brent’s eyebrows shot up. He’d never seen Hayden in shorts and sneakers. Ever. With her hair pulled back in a ponytail, she looked so damn sweet and innocent, it brought him up short. Her white T-shirt read Clean Air Initiative 2013, her father’s company logo beneath. In an attempt to hide his reaction, he strode back to his ESU truck and pulled his emergency mechanic’s tools out from under the passenger-side seat. “You’re lucky I have these with me,” he called over the honking traffic. “I lent them to a buddy last week and he returned them this morning. They’d normally be at home.”

“Yes,” she replied, exasperation in her voice. “You have my undying gratitude, officer.”

Brent turned with a sarcastic rejoinder on his lips, but when he saw her up close the words died in his throat. She looked…exhausted, eyes puffy with dark smudges underneath. Her usual radiance dulled by pale skin and a tired expression. As if she’d been crying. Why had she been crying? Please God, not because of him or what they’d done. Or how he abandoned her when she’d possibly wanted him again. He wanted to question her. Demand answers. But like an idiot, he’d agreed not to discuss their night together ever again. Where the hell did that leave him?

When she cleared her throat uncomfortably, Brent realized he’d been staring at her without speaking. Her expression was decidedly closed off, telling him that he wouldn’t be appeasing his curiosity any time soon. With a case of reluctance, he skirted past her toward the bus. “All right, let’s see what’s—” Brent lifted the hood and steam poured out. “Well, that’s promising.”

Hayden buried her face in her hands with a groan. “Take me to the closest bar?”

“Don’t start lining up imaginary shots just yet.” He set his steel toolbox down on the concrete. After waving away most of the steam, he propped the hood open and peered inside. Checking various sections of the engine for the part requiring repair, he strove to keep his voice casual. Even though, with her standing so close, he felt anything but. “So what are you doing on a bus? Not exactly your typical mode of transportation.”

“Yeah, well, my stretch Hummer is in the shop.”

Brent glanced over, caught off guard by Hayden’s uncharacteristically self-deprecating tone. Her worried gaze was fixed on something in the bus windshield. He followed her line of sight and saw at least twenty preteens, faces pressed against the glass, watching them intently. One of the girls waved at her and she returned the gesture with a shaky smile.

“Are you gonna fix it, Miss Hayden?”

Her throat worked as she looked toward Brent for an answer. That look impacted him like a blow to the chin. She needed him. It was right there in her expression. Fix it, Brent. That look called to the provider inside him, twice as amplified around Hayden. He needed a moment to rein it back in. Before she glimpsed the vulnerability and ripped him to shreds over it. He was saved by the kids yelling once more through the glass.

“We’re going to be too late to milk the cows!”

“Tell that cop to show us his gun!”

Apparently the surprises weren’t over. “Did he just say ‘milk the cows’?”

She nodded without meeting his eyes. “We’re taking them up to Meadowstar Farm for the day. They have cows there. Moving on.”

Everything clicked into place then. Clear Air Initiative. Even Brent had heard about the popular charity on the local news. He’d had no idea Hayden was involved in any way, but based on the company logo on her shirt and the kids’ obvious comfort with her, she’d committed herself to the cause. How long had she been shuttling these kids upstate without him having a single clue? Brent had too many questions, so he started with the most pressing. “Do you milk the cows?”

“Yes.” Her face softened slightly. “Once. My hands were too cold. Bessie was udderly pissed.”

Hiding his smile, Brent crouched down to remove tools and a spare quart of antifreeze from his box. Dammit, the need to kiss her wouldn’t go away. It was difficult to ignore when they were taking shots at each other. Now? When she stood there in her pristine white Converse, hitting him with more goofy wordplay? It was damn near impossible. And it reminded him of his all-too-brief time in her bed. Focus. “All right, Miss Hayden. It looks like you’ve got an antifreeze leak coming from one of your hose clamps.”

“Solid.”

She cast another concerned look at the hovering students, several of them giving her a thumbs-up in encouragement. They looked at her as if she were invincible, Brent thought, but she clearly didn’t see it. At the moment, she appeared too focused on this failure, which was totally out of her control. Suddenly, it became imperative to him that she see what those kids saw.

Brent jerked his chin at her. “All right, woman. Get over here.”

“What?”

“Get under the hood. You’re going to make this repair so you can go milk Bessie on time.”

“Me? Are you crazy?” Brent gave her a level look and she held up a hand. “Forget I asked.”

He took Hayden’s arm and pulled her in front of him. The words stuck in his throat for a moment, she felt so perfect backed against his chest, her scent teasing his senses. “Stand on the front bumper,” he instructed gruffly. “I’ll talk you through it.”

With a deep breath, she took the wrench, white rag, and utility knife he offered, then boosted herself up onto the bumper. Unable to resist the opportunity to touch her, he braced her legs with his body to keep her steady. “If this is a ploy to ogle my butt, learn to pick your moments.”