“Not quite,” I said. “Car died.”
“Hmm.” Iggy looked at the glove compartment as though he was diagnosing the problem. “I don’t have a car.”
“I know, Ig,” I said gently. “It’s okay. I’m gonna call someone.”
“Mmm,” Iggy responded, already nodding off again.
I gave the keys one optimistic turn—maybe it was a temporary glitch and I’d get lucky—but the car only made a scratchy sound and then cut out again.
The amount I knew about car maintenance and repair wouldn’t have filled a thimble, so there was no hope anything else I tried would help at all.
I sighed and called the number on the card taped to the inside of the sun visor, watching Iggy sleep while I worked my way through a half-dozen automated menus before getting through to a tired operator who assured me they’d get someone out to help within the hour in painfully bored tones.
Theo’s wet nose snuffled into my hand as I reached out to pet him, and Iggy snored peacefully, his head falling against the cold window.
I struggled my way out of my coat, folded it, and leaned over to put it between his head and the glass, tucking the tiny, sleepy smile I got in exchange next to my heart as a reward. I’d be cold, but Iggy wouldn’t wake up with a sore neck and a pounding headache—not more of a one than he’d have in the morning, anyway.
Eventually, a truck with a familiar Big Dick’s logo—apostrophe still in place this time—pulled up in front of the car.
An equally familiar shape stepped out of it. Even silhouetted in the dark, I would’ve recognized that jawline anywhere.
Liam.
Perfect. Just perfect.
Liam pulled his hoodie up over his head to protect himself from the fine rain that’d been falling on and off all night and walked over, knocking lightly on the window.
His eyes widened as he saw me, mouth falling open as he peered past me to look at a sleeping Iggy.
I couldn’t roll the electric window down without the car running, so I climbed out instead, closing the door quickly to keep the heat in for Iggy.
“Iggy okay?” Liam asked, peering through the windshield as he moved to pop the hood.
“He’s fine. Might’ve lost track of his champagne consumption at the wedding.”
“You got him drunk?” Liam asked, eyebrow raised as the hood swung up.
I looked at the engine thoughtfully, trying to disguise the fact that I had exactly zero idea what I was looking for. In a pinch, I couldmaybehave identified the oil and water tanks.
Maybe.
If they had pictures on them.
“He got himself drunk,” I defended. “He’s a grown man.”
“He got hit by a car,” Liam reminded me, as though I wasevergoing to forgive myself for that. “You should’ve been watching out for him.”
“You always were overprotective,” I said.
Not that I’d exactly been worry-free when it came to the possibility of Iggy getting hurt. I’d just tried to hide it better.
“Yeah, well. Don’t wanna see him hurt.” Liam sniffed, fiddling with something under the hood that I couldn’t have identified if there was a gun to my head. “Battery’s dead,” he grunted. “Gotta hook it up to the truck. This your car?”
“It’s a rental,” I said.
“Won’t try to sell you a new battery, then. Needs it, though.”
“Didn’t know you were a mechanic,” I said, watching Liam hook the Volkswagen up to what I was guessing was a generator of some kind in the back of the Big Dick’s pickup.
