| |
Coop didn’t have the luxury of studying the woman who’d demanded his help. But he’d seen enough to pique his interest. Dressed like a million bucks, she seemed used to having people jump when she spoke, which he found sort of amusing. Her dark hair and even darker eyes were a striking combination.
He walked around the Jeep, the biting scent of burnt oil accosting him.
“Look under the hood or something.” She waved toward the front end then went back to wringing her hands.
He got down on his knees and looked at the undercarriage. “You have your oil changed recently?”
“Yesterday afternoon, why?”
That made him think the damage wasn’t minor. “The noise—was it a loud clunk?”
“Maybe. More like a thunk. After the first big sound, I heard it over and over.”
He shook his head, knowing he’d be giving her bad news if his assumption proved correct. “Let me get this into the garage and have a look before I diagnose it.”
“How long will that take?”
Frustration didn’t add the waver to her voice. The set jaw and wide eyes made him think fear played a role.
What was this woman—who seemed used to having people jump at her command—afraid of? Was being late for a meeting that big a deal? Whatever it was, if Coop could erase that look from her eyes, he’d do just about anything to make that happen, which made absolutely no sense since he’d only met her minutes before.
“Tell you what. Let me get this out of the driveway, and then I’ll run you to your meeting. While you do whatever it is you do, I’ll figure out what’s going on with your car.” He wasn’t sure she’d go for his plan.
“Thank you. I would appreciate that. My boss isn’t a very understanding man.” She glanced at her phone.
Mario and Seth honked and drove into the grass to get around the Jeep. It was kind of them to show up for work before lunchtime—or at all.
Mario leaned out the window. “That doesn’t look good.”
“You’re late.” Coop needed his mechanics to arrive on time if there was any hope of keeping the garage running.
After parking, Seth hopped out first. “Sorry. Cara told you what happened, right?”
Coop raked his fingers through his hair in frustration. There was no hope of a successful business with his sister as the office manager.
“Is hell cold? Tell me later. I need you to get this into the garage, and I’ll be back to look at it. Do not start the engine.” He held out his hand to Nellie.
She furrowed her brow and stepped back. “You’re giving me a ride. We aren’t dating.”
“What?” He scratched at his beard, trying to make sense of the woman.
The guys eyed Nellie, then shot a glance at Coop.
She crossed her arms. “I’m not holding your hand.”
He closed the distance between them, shaking his head. “I need the keys. The keys to your Jeep.”
“Oh.” She bit her lower lip and handed over the keys. The hint of pink that spread across her cheeks made her the opposite of unattractive.
Coop tossed the keys to Seth then pointed toward his old Ford. “Hop in.”
“I need my purse.” She ran back to the Jeep and returned a minute later, jacket hanging over her arm, purse under her chin and a coffee cup in each hand. “Vanilla latte? I have an extra.”
He grabbed the one without lipstick on the lid. “Thanks.” Hoping it didn’t get him a scolding, he opened the passenger door for her.
She climbed in and buckled her seatbelt. “I appreciate this. The ride I mean.”
“Of course. Just tell me where.” He glanced at her left hand, checking for a ring.
A perfectly shaped, unpainted nail topped an empty finger, which was exactly what he hoped to see.
The drive to her office didn’t take long, and she stayed quiet most of the way. When he pulled up in front of the building, she had the door open before he’d fully stopped.
“You need my—um, do you have a piece of paper?” She pulled a pen out of her purse. “I need to give you my number.”
Coop looked around the cab, which was uncharacteristically clean. “No paper. Um, this work?” He stuck out his hand.
Eyebrows raised, she opened her mouth then snapped it shut, dropped her purse, and scrawled a name and number on his hand. “Nellie Davis, in case you can’t read my writing.”
He read the number out loud. “I’ll be sure not to wash my hands.”
She didn’t even laugh.
When she glanced down at her clothes, he noticed the smudges and the coffee stain. “Sorry about ruining your skirt.” Focused more on keeping her from falling, he hadn’t paid much attention to where he’d grabbed her. His handprints left the tell-tale signs.
She shrugged. “I should be out of my meeting by noon.”
“I should know what’s going on by then. Need a ride? I can have Cara—”
“No. I’ll manage.” She slammed the door and disappeared through the glass doors into the building.
He watched her for only a second then put the truck in gear. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted her purse on the floorboard. He pulled into the nearest parking place and jumped out, purse tucked under his arm.
Just inside the double doors a security guard stepped in front of Coop. “How can I help you?”
“I’m returning this to Ms.”—he opened his hand—“Davis. Nellie Davis. She left it in my truck.” He glanced up when he heard the click of heels approach.
Her jaw set and her face the same shade of pink from earlier, she held out her hand. Tempted as he was to grab it—just to be funny—he didn’t.
He handed over the purse. “I’ll call you.”
Her eyes widened, the pink darkened, and she shot a sideways look at the guard.
Coop realized how his comment must have sounded, especially after reading her name off his hand. “About your car, I mean. In the shop.”
“Thanks.” She spun and marched away, his handprints swaying from side to side and a not insignificant slit flapping open with every stride.
He opted not to linger until she disappeared from view. All the way to the truck, he chided himself and thought of all the ways he could have handled that differently.
With her name bouncing around in his head and emblazoned on his hand, Coop drove back to the shop, replaying the interaction with Ms. Nellie Davis. Knowing he’d see her again improved the outlook for the day.
Before he climbed out of the Jeep, he snapped a picture of his hand. He definitely didn’t want to lose that number.
As Coop walked into the open bay, Seth tossed a wrench into the tool chest. “Who’s the woman?”
“Just met her.” Coop lifted the hood on the Jeep.
Seth leaned over Coop’s shoulder. “Ouch. That’ll cost her.”
Coop’s guess was correct. Sans oil, her engine had thrown a rod. There was no fixing it easily. Well, it could be rebuilt, but that took time—lots of time. Coop didn’t like giving anyone bad news about their car, but he especially didn’t want to give her bad news.
While Seth and Mario worked on the other cars, Coop wrote up a quote for repairs, hoping Nellie wouldn’t faint when she saw it.
But if she did, he’d swoop in to catch her. Again.