Delaney sucked in a quiet breath. Dee.
Was that a slip, or was he trying to remind her of the way they’d used to be? Whether it was his intention or not, he’d succeeded. Her heart sank at the memory of the last time they’d seen each other before she could shove it out of her mind. That night had cost her dearly, and she sure as hell wasn’t going to dwell on it now.
She drew a lungful of the hot, humid air. The disaster at hand was way more important than the past right about now. Pasting a determinedly pleasant expression on her face, she said, “I can see you are super busy. And if it wasn’t important, I promise you I wouldn’t be standing here begging. But please, can you just stay a few minutes late tonight so you can take a look? I swear to you, the moment my car is drivable, I will be out of your hair.”
Which they both knew he wanted.
Looking at him now, it was hard to believe he was even the same person. Gone were the fitted vests, crisp white button-downs, and Italian leather half-boots. There was nothing wrong with the V-neck tee and open denim shirt that was rolled up above his elbows—they were actually more than a little sexy and suited him in a way she never would have guessed—but it was light years away from what she was used to.
In the three years she’d known him, he’d always been Mr. GQ, totally owning the law school student vibe. This Beau, with his grease-stained fingernails and well-worn jeans with the holes at his knees, felt like a stranger.
Shaking his head, he blew out a long breath. “What are you even doing here in the first place?” The question held hints of accusation, as though she’d planned to show up here today.
“I’m on my way to Florida. I . . . got a little lost,” she said, feeling all kinds of stupid. She really was a smart person. Most of the time, anyway. She was just out of her element.
His eyebrows hitched up. “A little lost? Unless you’re headed to Florida via the scenic Georgia route, I’d say you’re a lot lost.”
She wrinkled her nose. “That bad? I was just following my phone’s GPS. Well, until it stopped working. Then my car started acting up, and I’ve been driving for miles with all my fingers and toes crossed that I could find someone who could help.” She offered him her most hopeful smile. “It’s got to be divine intervention that I ended up here.”
He snorted. “More like dumb luck.”
“Which is better than the awful luck I was having before I ran into you. I was beginning to have visions of ax murderers finding me in my broken down car in the middle of nowhere.”
“Murderers, plural?” he said, the implied sarcastic ‘really?’ heavy in his voice.
She lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Murderers, scary clowns, wildebeests, space aliens with probes—take your pick.”
That at least elicited a tiny quirk of a smile. Blowing out another breath, he ticked his chin toward the door to the office part of the building. “Go on and wait inside. I’ll see what I can do.”
Relief coursed though her. He sounded reluctant as hell, but he’d do it. No matter what had happened between them, he’d always been a man of his word. Still, now that she’d won the battle, she wasn’t going to push her luck. Flashing him a grateful grin, she skedaddled.
She was dying to know how he’d ended up here, what had happened to the sure-thing job he had lined up at his grandfather’s prestigious law firm in Birmingham, and—even if she didn’t want to admit it—what he thought of the fact that she was officially unengaged and unattached.
Some things were better off not being answered.
Stepping into the small room that served as the office, she nearly groaned with pleasure at the feel of artificially cooled air blowing across her hot skin. “God bless air conditioning,” she murmured as she sank onto the low couch beneath the picture window that faced the parking lot. The ancient leather groaned right along with her as she slumped back. She stretched her sandaled feet out across the old but fairly clean linoleum floor, grateful for a moment to relax.
The lead weight of worry that had draped across her shoulders since she lost signal was at last easing. Beau felt like a lifesaver, but the sight of him also brought a surge of emotion she wasn’t quite ready to deal with. The past few days—hell, the past two months, really—had stretched her to her limit and then some.
The back door swept open then, startling her. She straightened as well as she could in the slouchy couch as a woman in her mid-fifties or so swept in, pushing her sunglasses up onto her head with one hand while holding a stack of books against her chest with the other.
“Oh, hey there,” she said with a wide smile, dropping her armload on the wide desk that dominated much of the room. “Has Beau helped you out yet?”
Loaded question. Delaney smiled and nodded. “Yes, ma’am. He sent me in here to wait.”
“Good thing, because I swear it’s hotter than a firecracker on the fourth of July out there. And for once, that’s not my hot flashes talking,” she added with a wink before pulling her sunglasses from her auburn shoulder-length hair and tossing them next to the books.
Swallowing a horrified laugh, Delaney bit the inside of her lip. Her mother would never be caught dead mentioning something so base as a hot flash. Of course, her mother also couldn’t be bothered to talk about her accounting errors or her newest marriage until after the fact, so Delaney was predisposed to like this woman, who probably hadn’t a secret in the world.
“It is a scorcher,” she agreed when she was sure she wouldn’t laugh.
“Can I get you a drink?”
Delaney licked her lips at the very suggestion. “Yes, please. I’d about sell my soul for a cold bottle of water.” She hadn’t thought to pack a cooler on the way down, assuming there’d be anything she could want at gas stations along the way.
“Coming right up,” the woman said, reaching into a mini-fridge positioned against the back wall. “I’m Georgia Rodney, by the way. Beau’s mama. Don’t hold my parents’ perverse name choice against me, now. I bleed crimson through and through.”
Delaney chuckled. “I can’t say a word about it. I’m Delaney Hart, but my middle name is Savannah.”
Instead of the laughter Delaney expected, the older woman straightened like a shot, her dark eyes wide. “You’re Delaney Hart?”
Oh, hell. Delaney’s chest felt like a plinko board as her heart plummeted, hitting every rib along the way. Apparently her reputation preceded her.