“You mean since I obviously know nothing about cars?” She shrugged. “I liked the way it looked, the way it felt when I took it for a test drive. Everyone expected me to get a Beemer when my big raise came through, but I wanted something with real power, not just a pretty thing.” She could hear a touch of bitterness creep into her voice. “I had fantasies of speed and freedom. Just me and the open road.”
“And?” His attention was focused on the car, but Sarah thought she heard genuine interest in his question.
“I’m lucky if I can get out of the office before nine p.m., forget about getting out of the city. This trip was a fluke. We wrapped a case up early and”—she coughed and turned away to hide her heated blush—“I had a medical reason.”
He looked up this time, but she made a show of examining the blue-and-yellow racecar. Eager to change the subject, she said the first thing that came to mind. “I see you like racing.”
Real clever, Sarah.
Cole put down the long-handled metal thing and reached for something smaller but also metal and as unfamiliar as almost everything else in the room. “It’s a passion.”
Sarah could feel the truth behind those simple words. The man clearly loved his work. When was the last time she’d felt that way? “Do you work on all kinds of cars, or just the really fast ones?”
Cole put down the tool and wiped the grease from his hands with some kind of cleanser. She could smell its citrus scent across the room. “The faster, the better,” he said.
“So, folks will pay a lot to fix these cars, eh?” she asked.
Okay, it was tacky to bring up the issue of money, but she still was having trouble connecting the idea of a mechanic—even a racing mechanic—with this house and the guy in front of her.
Cole gave her an odd look that made her regret the question but it was too late to take it back now. He pointed to the car in front of her. “See that baby right there? The engine alone costs a hundred and fifty thousand plus a couple million a year to maintain. Or she will when I get done with her.”
Sarah jumped away from the car as if it had caught on fire. “A million a year? And I thought my car had bad mileage.” He laughed and the low sound warmed her from the inside. “So, you’re a mechanic for racecars?”
He shook his head. “Not a mechanic. An auto engineer.”
Was that a special kind of mechanic or was it like calling a garbage man a sanitation engineer? “Is that the proper title for someone who fixes racecars?”
“No. That’s the proper title for someone with a degree in automotive engineering.” He pointed behind her with his chin.
Sarah turned to face a wall covered in papers, pictures and tacked-up notes. Off to the side, partially hidden by a faded article about a race in Daytona Beach and a diagram of what looked like an engine, a cheap frame held a diploma for a bachelor’s degree in mechanical engineering. Next to it a similar frame held a master’s in the same with a focus on automotive engineering. Both were from Georgia Tech with honors. She couldn’t hold back her surprised “oh.”
“Well, shucks, ma’am,” he said in an exaggerated drawl. “Even us country boys go to school sometimes, ya know.”
He was smiling but the tightness around his eyes told Sarah she’d touched a nerve. Truth was, she never would have guessed that her “mechanic” had as much education as she had. With honors.
She looked at him with new eyes. Could that be the secret of his appeal? She’d always had a thing for smart men. But brains and brawn? Well that might be just what the doctor ordered.
Or should have.
Another kind of understanding dawned. “You don’t usually do this kind of thing, do you? I mean fix regular cars. That’s why Austin was so surprised by your offer.”
Cole just shrugged, as if it was no big deal. But it was to her.
“Cole.” She waited until he was looking at her. “Thank you. I really appreciate your help.”
He gave her a genuine smile this time. “Just trying to help out, darlin’.”
This man was fixing her car, giving her a place to stay and calling her “darlin’”. Maybe there was something to this Southern thing after all.
She wanted to know more. “So, why cars? I mean I know most men like them, but getting an advanced degree is a bit above and beyond the usual obsession.”
He paused for a moment, as if considering his answer—or whether to answer at all. Sarah held her breath, releasing it only when he leaned forward and rested his hands on the roof of the silver car between them.
“There’s something magical about racing. The freedom, the speed. It’s the closest you can come to flying without leaving the ground.” He looked down and patted the silver racecar. “But it’s not just about the car, you know? Racing is a partnership between a man and his machine. Get that engine going, make her purr and she’ll do anything you want.”