She huffed, making her blond bangs dance. “There’s a damned crater in the road back there. It’s right after the bend so I couldn’t see it until I was in it.”
He nodded in sympathy. “That’d do it.”
The blonde took a deep breath, her tension palpable. He resisted the urge to put a soothing hand on her arm. She didn’t seem like the type who’d appreciate the gesture. She opened her mouth to say something but was interrupted by the arrival of the tow truck from over the rise. It passed them and pulled onto the shoulder in a spray of gravel.
Cole raised a hand in greeting as a big man in an oil-stained T-shirt and John Deere ball cap got out of the truck. “Hey, Mike.”
“Cole. Whatcha doing here, man?”
“Came upon this nice lady stranded by the side of the road and stopped to see if I could help.”
The driver turned to the “nice lady” and Cole could see his eyes widen. They didn’t get women like her around here. “Ma’am,” Mike said, touching a hand to the brim of his cap.
She nodded, her lips tight.
He turned back to Cole. “Surprised to see you here. Austin heard you’d be out of town for a bit.”
Cole nodded. “I was just on my way back.”
“From Mooresville, right? I bet it was exciting, with everyone getting ready—”
The blonde stepped between them, annoyance clear on her face. “Excuse me,” she said, her tone anything but polite. “I’m in a bit of a hurry. So if you could save the catching up for later…” She waved at the car. Cole bit back a smile.
Mike’s face reddened. “Of course. What’s the problem?”
Before she could launch into an explanation, Cole spoke up. “If you’ve got it under control, Mike, I’m gonna take off.”
The woman glanced at him, surprise and something else flashing across her face. Disappointment? It was gone too quickly for Cole to be sure.
“Okay,” Mike said. “Be seeing you later, eh?”
Cole looked over at the blonde. Her arms were crossed, the toe of one leather boot tapping impatiently. Her attitude sent up all sorts of red flags but his body didn’t care. His cock stirred behind his fly.
“Oh, you can bet on it.”
Chapter Two
The middle of freaking nowhere. Sarah had assumed it was solely a figurative expression. But deep in the hills of Virginia, three hundred miles from New York City and another hundred plus miles from The Spa at Westwood, she’d found it. No reception on her cell phone. No one at the local garage who worked on Porsches. Not even a working soda machine.
According to the sign at the end of the street, the middle of nowhere was officially called Rapture, VA. Sarah snorted. Some name. The only pleasure she’d get from this town was watching it disappear from her rearview mirror.
She got out of her car and headed for the garage’s office. Heads turned as she passed the group of men who’d been ogling the Porsche—and her—since the tow had dropped them off. None of them appeared to actually work here so she ignored them.
The smell of engine grease assaulted her nose and twangy country music attacked her ears as she pushed through the glass door. The office chair screeched in protest as a barrel-chested man in a blue work shirt and stained jeans settled himself behind a battered metal desk. Austin was embroidered on his left breast pocket.
“Excuse me.” There was no response. “Austin.”
The man started, his eyes wide when he looked up at her. He must not have heard her over the music. She took a deep breath, pushing aside the ache that was starting in her left temple. “Look, I’ve been waiting here for God only knows how long and I want to know when someone is going to look at my car.”
“Your car. The Porsche.” His words stretched out like hot taffy.
No, the rusty pickup on the lift. “Yes, the Porsche. The one that’s been sitting out there for well over an hour now without a single person looking at it.” She held up a hand. “Correction. Without a single qualified person looking at it.”
Austin shook his head with a patronizing look that made Sarah grit her teeth. “Thing is, honey, we don’t work on foreign cars here. I called the Porsche guys over in Richmond, but they’ll be a while. But don’t you worry about a thing. Our local expert’s on his way.”
She cringed. “Local expert?”
The man nodded. “Honey, he knows everything there is to know ‘bout sports cars. He’ll take a look at that vehicle of yours and tell you what the problem is just as fast as you please.”
She snorted. Yesterday couldn’t have been fast enough for her and if he called her “honey” one more time she was going to tell him off just as fast as she pleased.