Only a clicking sound. Not engine rumbles or signs of life.
“Could be a dead battery or the starter.” He closed the hood. “Or both. Do you want me to call for a wrecker?”
Amelie grabbed her purse and got out of the vehicle. “I’ll do it in the morning. If I need to get around, I can use the bakery’s delivery van.”
“In the meantime, can I offer you a ride home?” Maurice asked.
Amelie glanced toward the building. She didn’t want to interrupt her friends enjoying their girls’ night out. She turned a tired smile on Maurice. “Yes, please.”
He held out his arm.
Amelie hooked her hand into the crook of his elbow and let him lead her to the passenger side of his pickup.
He opened the door and handed her up into his vehicle. In the next moment, he stepped up onto the running board, leaned over her and buckled her seatbelt in place.
Amelie’s heart fluttered as she inhaled his woodsy cologne. “I—” she squeaked, cleared her throat and continued, “could have done that myself.”
He dropped to the ground and grinned up at her. “But where’s the fun in that?” His lips twisted. “That buckle can be a little finicky. I thought I’d spare you the frustration.”
She snorted, but bit down on her lip to keep from telling him that he’d caused more frustration than he’d spared.
How long had it been since she’d been with a man?
Apparently, too long.
“Thank you,” she murmured instead.
Maurice closed her door, rounded the front of the truck and slid into the driver’s seat. Resting his arm across the back of her seat, he looked over his shoulder and backed out of the parking space. Once he’d driven out onto the highway, he shot her a glance. “By the way, I should be thanking you.”
She frowned. “For what?”
“For giving me an excuse to leave early. I wasn’t feeling it tonight.”
“Why?” she asked.
He shrugged. “I get this way when I’m in between assignments.”
“I thought the boat factory kept your team busy when you’re not on assignment.”
“Usually, it does. But the boat production is in between projects as well. We’re waiting on supplies.”
“How do you like making boats?” she asked. “It’s a lot different than being a bodyguard.”
He smiled. “I like the hands-on aspect and getting to see the end result. Most of the security services we provide are pretty much hands-off. There’s something to be said for seeing the fruits of your labor. It’s gratifying.”
Amelie nodded. “I get that. In my case, I get to see, touch and taste what I make with my hands.”
“And then it’s consumed, with gratification expressed by your customers.”
“Happy customers are the goal.”
“Same with the boats, only they last longer than a really great pastry.”
“True,” Amelie admitted. “But the memory of that exceptional pastry keeps them coming back for more.”
“Speaking of exceptional dishes,” he said, “have you always been a baker?”
Amelie shook her head. “No. Baking was only part of my previous work. But when I came home to Bayou Mambaloa, I didn’t think a town this small would warrant a five-star French restaurant, nor did I have the funds to build or staff one.” She shrugged. “Running a bakery made more sense. It didn’t require a big building, and I could run it myself, although I think I’ve got enough business now to hire a helper soon.”
