“Excuse me?”
His face fell, then he nodded toward my car, which was very helpfully still smoking.
“You uh…you were askin’ about the nearest mechanic,” he said. “I’m the nearest mechanic. Actually…the only mechanic.”
I looked around again, like maybe a real garage might materialize out of nowhere.
“You work here?”
He laughed. It was a low, rolling sound—genuine and a little too charming.
“No, ma’am. I work up the street. Just came by Mabel’s to grab dinner with my family and saw your car trying to perform its own last rites.”
I stared at him.
He just gave me a lopsided smile.
“Want me to take a look?” he asked, like it wasn’t obvious I needed him to.
I stopped myself from blurting out a “duh,” trying toremember that this hot stranger was offering to help me for free.
“Yes, please,” I said quietly.
He extended a hand. “I’m Beau, by the way. Beau Ward. Just wanted to make sure to formally introduce myself before I get my hands dirty.”
He didn’t have to say it like that…like getting his hands dirty was hot. Or maybe he just had to say everything that way; he seemed like the type. Still, I extended my hand to shake his. “Noelle Kinney,” I said.
“Noelle,” he smiled. “Pretty.”
I pulled my hand back like I’d touched a live wire—not because he was flirting, but because Ireactedto the flirting, felt it deep in my chest, in my stomach, in…other places. I crossed my arms tightly over my chest, tapping my foot against the gravel lot.
“Thanks,” I said. “It’s Gaelic. Means ‘stranded in a diner parking lot with a dead car and an army of bigfoot hunters.”
He didn’t flinch; just chuckled and turned back to the engine. “I think that’s the loose translation, yeah.”
I hovered a few feet away as he opened the hood and propped it up, moving with an unhurried efficiency that only deeply competent people seemed to possess. It irritated me. Everything about him irritated me—his ease, his confidence, the way a couple locals walked by and waved at him like he was a local landmark.
I didn’t trust it. Didn’t trusthim.
Didn’t trust anything about this place, the darkness closing in, dense woods on every side…
Beau leaned over the engine, frowning slightly as he poked around. “Could I get some light?” he asked.
“Um…yeah,” I said. “Do you want…”
“Just hold the phone right there,” he said, gesturing over his shoulder. I obeyed, holding the phone flashlight over the engine, my armover his shoulder. It brought me close enough to feel his body heat, and it felt annoyingly good. My elbow brushed against his shoulder, and I stiffened like I’d touched something I wasn’t supposed to. Which, arguably, I had.
Not that he seemed to notice. Or maybe he was just pretending not to.
He kept working, hands moving confidently through the shadows and steam, the smell of hot metal mixing with motor oil and something warmer, more human. It clung to him—not cologne, not sweat exactly, just…him. Like he’d been in the sun all day, fixing things, being helpful,existing.
I hated it.
“Yep,” he said after a beat. “Definitely a cracked hose. Might’ve started a while back, slow leak kinda situation. Radiator’s not looking too happy either. You been topping off coolant?”
“Is that the green stuff or the orange stuff?”
He snorted. “We’ll go with no.”
