Country Roads(2)

“My lug wrench is somewhere over there,” she said, gesturing toward the weeds while a flush of embarrassment crept up her cheeks. “I think the nuts have rusted onto the bolts. I couldn’t get them to budge, so the wrench seemed useless.”

She had also been careful not to overexert herself, just as a precaution.

The corners of the demigod’s mouth twitched slightly, but he said nothing as he squatted down to inspect the wheel. He picked up a rock and scraped at the rust on the lug nuts. She admired the stretch of blue cotton over a pair of distinctly godlike shoulders. Now she wanted to paint him in the nude.

“You may be right about that,” he said, “but let me get my wrench and give it a try.”

As he straightened to his full height, Julia felt a little frisson of nerves. He was a lot bigger than she was and still a total stranger. Maybe she should get back in her car and hope he didn’t realize one lock didn’t function.

“Be right back,” he said, walking away before she bolted for the dubious safety of the SUV.

It was broad daylight, and plenty of vehicles whizzed past. Someone would notice if he grabbed her and dragged her off into the weeds, wouldn’t they? She tightened her grip on her keys as he approached with a gleaming silver wrench in his hand.

“What’s your name?” If worse came to worst, at least she’d know who had killed her.

“Sorry, ma’am, I should have introduced myself sooner. Paul Taggart.” The sudden flash of his smile vaporized her fear as he held out his hand to her.

She had made a tactical error. She couldn’t tell him her last name. “I’m Julia.” His handshake was perfect: firm, warm, and not at all damp. He should be in politics with a smile and a handshake like that.

“I see.” That clear gaze roamed over her face for a long moment before he released her hand and bent to fit the wrench onto one of the lug nuts. The muscles in his shoulders pulled at the shirt’s fabric and he grunted with effort, but the nut didn’t budge. He stood and braced his foot on the wrench, throwing his weight onto it. Still no movement. He turned to her with a shrug of regret as he pulled a slim phone out of his trouser pocket. “I’m afraid it’s going to take more than human muscle to get this changed.”

Damn! She was going to have to use her credit card. And then her uncle would be able to find out where she was.

She blew out a breath of frustration and examined Paul Taggart closely. His tie held the sheen of fine silk, and his trousers showed the drape of expensive wool. The vehicle parked in front of hers was some sort of sleek, powerful sports car. He looked like a man of substance. She screwed up her courage and did her best to project an air of honesty. “Er, I don’t suppose you could float me a loan for the tow. I swear I’ll pay you back. I just need to get to Sanctuary, and it’s right up the road. Please.” She injected a note of pleading into the last word.

He muttered something that sounded like, “How do they always find me?” She caught an undercurrent of resignation in his breezy tone as he said, “Sure. Happy to do it.”

He didn’t believe she would pay him back. Julia pressed her lips together so she wouldn’t tell him to go to hell. She needed to get to the gallery. Then she’d show him she could return his loan.

If they liked the paintings.

Julia shoved the thought to the darkest recesses of her mind and pasted a grateful smile on her face. “Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome. Let me call Bud to come get your car.” She thought she saw a touch of guilt darken his eyes before he lowered his gaze to his cell.

“Bud?”

“He’s the owner of the service station in Sanctuary. That’s where you’re headed, right?” He was already putting the phone to his ear.

“Are you from Sanctuary?”

He nodded. “Born and raised.”

She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. It would make it more satisfying to pay him back if she could see his face when she did it. On the other hand, she preferred to have the minimum number of people know she was in Sanctuary. The more she was seen, the more likely it was her uncle would find out she’d been there. She shrugged mentally. There was nothing she could do about it now.

Just then Paul spoke into the phone. He greeted whoever was on the other end of the call casually, yet it was clear he expected to have his request acted upon promptly. Her uncle worked the same way.

“The tow truck will be here in fifteen minutes,” Paul Taggart said.

“Wow, that’s quick.” When it struck her that she was going to have to make conversation with him for those minutes, they suddenly stretched out to infinity.