eyes get wider and she just sits there as though waiting for me to laugh and tell her I’m only kidding.
“I-I don’t know how to change a tire,” she says when she realizes I’m not.
“You know how to change a tire,” I correct her and it stuns her even more. “You’ve seen it done hundreds of times in real life and in movies—trust me, you know how; everybody knows how.”
“I’ve never changed a tire in my life.” She all but sticks out her bottom lip.
“Well you’re going to today,” I say grinning, opening my door just a few inches so the semi coming toward us doesn’t knock it off.
A few more seconds of disbelief and Camryn is slipping her feet down into her running shoes and shutting the car door behind her.
“Come over here.” I motion to her and she walks to the backside of the car with me. I point to the flat one, back passenger’s side. “If it had been one of those two on the side with the traffic, you might’ve gotten out of it.”
“You’re seriously gonna make me change a tire?”
I thought we already established this.
“Yes, babe, I’m seriously going to make you change a tire.”
“But in the car you said help you, not actually do all the work.”
I nod. “Well you are going to help technically, but—just come here.”
She walks around to the trunk and I lift the spare out and set it on the road. “Now get the jack and the tire iron out of the trunk and bring them over.”
She does what I say, grumbling under her breath something about getting ‘black gook’ on her hands. I restrain my very passionate desire to laugh at her as I roll the tire over near to the flat one and lay it on its side. Another semi zooms by; the wind rocks the car gently side to side.
“This is dangerous,” she says, dropping the jack and the tire iron on the ground at my feet. “What if a vehicle veers off the road and hits us? Don’t you watch World’s Dumbest?”
Holy shit! She watches that show, too?
“As a matter of fact I do,” I say, “now get over here and let’s get this done. If you’re the one squatting down, hidden from the traffic by the car then we’re less likely to get run-over by anyone.”
“How does that make it less likely?” Her eyebrows are knotted in her forehead.
“Well, if you’re standing out here in the open lookin’ all sexy and shit, I’d probably veer off the road looking at you, too.”
She rolls her eyes so hard and bends over to pick up the tire iron.
“Ugh!” she grunts, trying to get the lug nuts loosened. “They’re too damn tight!”
I loosen them for her but let her twist them off the rest of the way, all the while keeping my eyes on the oncoming traffic without letting her know that it’s making me nervous. If I’m watching, I’ve got a better chance of grabbing her in time and getting us both out of the way than if it were the other way around.
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