A rusty pickup truck stopped behind her, and a burly man got out and walked her way.
She braced herself for a scolding.
“Shift it into neutral, doll,” he called out to her.
She did as he said, and he proceeded to push her vehicle while she steered it to the shoulder.
“Do you need me to call anyone?” he asked.
“I already did. Thank you so much.”
The man nodded and disappeared into his truck, giving a friendly wave as he drove down the exit.
At least she was out of traffic now.
Fifteen minutes later, a shiny, black Lexus pulled up behind her dirty, rusting VW Golf. In her side mirror, she watched a tall blond man in khakis and a turquoise dress shirt emerge from within. The best man.
She climbed out of her car, careful to avoid getting hit by the passing vehicles, and pulled the lever to move her seat forward so she could get to her camera bag, which was stashed on the floor in the back.
“Shannon?” The man’s voice had a familiarity to it, and his tone was not that of a stranger asking if she was Shannon, but that of a man who was surprised to see someone he knew.
She peered over her shoulder as she lifted her bag. Her stomach somersaulted as he removed his sunglasses and their eyes met. Her bag slipped through her fingers, returning to the floor with a thud.
“Micah.” Her voice came out high-pitched and not at all normal.
“Are you the wedding photographer?” He hung the sunglasses from the neck of his shirt.
“I … yeah, I am. You’re … the best man?” She was a stuttering fool.
He nodded. “I introduced them.”
“Oh.” She needed to grab her bag, but stood frozen in place, staring at him in disbelief.
“It’s been a long time.” His eyes were as chocolaty brown as she remembered, like she could melt into them.
She shook herself out of that line of thought. “Yeah. What, like ten years?”
His jaw twitched the way it always had when something bothered him. She couldn’t believe she remembered that little detail after all this time.
“Something like that,” he replied tersely.
Ten years since they had said goodbye.
Micah Shaw. She couldn’t believe he was standing in front of her again. Much less on the side of a highway off-ramp, waiting for her old hunk o’ junk to be towed.
“Let me help you with your things. We can wait in my car so we don’t melt out here.”
His smile made her weak in the knees. But that was nothing new. She’d always reacted strongly to him—his looks, his touch, his kiss.
He moved carefully around her and reached in for her bag.
“Thanks.” She tried to ignore the way the muscle in his arm flexed under his shirt. It was obvious he had kept in shape over the years—maybe he still played baseball. She wondered so many things about him, things she’d tried not to let herself think about over the years. First and foremost, was he married? The last she’d heard of him through the grapevine was that he had met someone—someone he was serious about—and was planning to propose. That was more than a year ago, though. And he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. Not yet, anyway.
Shannon followed Micah to the Lexus and climbed into the passenger seat. She glanced around at the smooth leather interior, and a musky cologne wafted her way as he slid in and started the car.
A blast of cold air hit her. “Oh, yeah. That’s what I’m talkin’ about.” She closed her eyes and grabbed the bottom hem of her shirt, fanning it back and forth, hoping to dry the sweat streaks. She lowered the visor and opened the vanity mirror to reveal a sheen of sweat covering her face and neck, hair that had gone from straight to wavy, and wispy hairs stuck to the sweat on her forehead. She snapped it closed and shoved the visor up. “I wish I hadn’t looked.”
Micah chuckled.