Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 104037 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 520(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104037 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 520(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
“What? Ugh.” I throw my hands in front of me. “I can’t do this anymore.” I turn to leave and start weaving through the tables.
“Nothing’s changed,” he says, causing me to stop. “You just run away without saying a fucking word, not even goodbye.”
I have no idea what he’s going on about, so I keep walking until I’m outside. I’ll take the cold over the company inside any day. Leaning against the front of the truck, I wrap my arms around myself, keeping the cardigan pulled tighter around me.
The purpose is lost even on me after a while. I could have been eating in the warmth inside instead of standing in the cold out here. My pride is too sensitive right now to go back, so I hold my position, frustrated I didn’t charge my phone when I was at the table.
I catch two guys as they head for the door. They look local enough by how they appear to be dressed like everyone else in Maggie’s. “Excuse me, do you have the number of a mechanic by chance?”
The two stop, and both adjust their jeans by pulling them up at the waist. The one with a backward ball cap replies, “You’re standing in front of him now. I’m the closest for twenty miles.”
“It might be my lucky day after all.”
He grins, looking me up and down, and then comes a little closer. “It just might be. How can I be of service?”
“My car broke down about fifteen or twenty minutes from here. I need to get it towed to the shop.” Not wanting to sound like I don’t know what I’m talking about, I add, “Dead battery and might need to take a look at the fuel pump.”
“Well, first off, that describes almost every road in the county. Any names or signs?”
My memory snaps back. “Yes, there was a bear sign. A bear crossing sign.”
“That doesn’t help. These woods are full of them. How do you know it’s the fuel pump?”
“Wild guess and some sputtering.”
Rubbing his chin, he says, “Doesn’t matter the make or model. I don’t keep pumps at the shop, so I’ll have to order it.”
My hope falls along with my shoulders. “How long will that take?”
“Probably a week. Sometimes less if Agnes’s hips are giving her trouble.”
Why do I feel like I’m on another planet? “Who’s Agnes?”
The guy with him appears bored by how he’s kicking up dust. Reaching for the door, he says, “Come on.”
“The mail carrier.”
“What? Can’t we just get it from LA tomorrow?”
Shaking his head, he backs toward the door. “No can do. Tomorrow is Sunday, and Darlie doesn’t let me work on Sunday. Call me on Monday, and we’ll try to find where you lost your car.”
“Who’s Darlie?”
“My wife.”
“Ah. Anyway, I didn’t lose it. It’s . . .” I look back over my shoulder and then wave in that direction. “Over there somewhere.”
His friend tugs the door open just as Blue Eyes fills the doorway. They’re quick to step aside, but their eyes light up like Christmas trees staring at him. He nods and changes places with them. The door closes, and he only gives me a passing glance. “The mechanic won’t be in until Monday.”
“Yeah,” I say, standing there wondering what’s next. Dropping my butt against truck’s grill, I cross my arms over my chest again. “I just met him.”
He opens his door but doesn’t get in. Instead, he says, “We have two choices. I can book a short-term rental for you in the area until Monday.”
I get up and face him. “You’d do that for me?”
Shrugging so casually like we’re old friends, he asks, “Do I have a choice?”
“You always have a choice.”
“Or you can return to the property. The cabin you were staying in is still available.”
“Huh.”
“What’s huh?”
I shrug this time. “I’m surprised you haven’t moved in the next one from the agency.”
His narrowing eyes aren’t less striking, and he’s still ridiculously handsome even when confusion scrunches his forehead. Maybe even more so. As if shaking the cobwebs from his mind, he stares at me a second longer. “You can deal with your car. . .” He continues like I never said anything at all. Typical. “On Monday and then go about your life like we never saw each other again.” Holding up a bag, he adds, “I got the food to go.”
“Why’d you do that?”
Without missing a beat, he says, “Because I’m sure you’re hungry just like I am.”
The gesture shocks me, considering our brief history. Still staring at this mammoth of a man, I let my thoughts wander to who he is and where he came from. It’s as if he was put in my path for a reason. I’m not ungrateful, even if I do detest him. “That was thoughtful.”
“You sound surprised.”
“I am,” I reply, dropping my guard an inch or two.