“I’m Merry Noelle,” she told him, her voice strained and pitched higher than usual. Anxiety gnawed at her stomach as she pleaded, “Please tell me you were able to fix it.”

She didn’t ask about the cost. It wasn’t like money was no object. Her credit card could ill afford another major hit, but what choice did she have? She needed a vehicle.

“I wish I had better news.”

Merry’s heart sank. “It’s a relic. I was afraid of that.”

When his head came up, his gaze met hers, before it dipped down her front. Then a slow smile spread across his face, transforming his businesslike demeanor. “You’re Merry Noelle?”

She gritted her teeth, so not in the mood to be on the receiving end of another handsome guy’s laughter.

“How bad is it?”

“It’s gonna cost way more to fix than it’s worth, and I can’t even promise we can do that. Parts will be next to impossible to find. Your best bet is to sell it to a salvage yard and use that for a down payment on something newer. Maybe from this century.”

Great. That’s just what she needed. A mechanic who thought he was a comedian. Like the cop across the street from her wasn’t enough.

“I know a guy who will give you a decent price.”

“Is that your expert advice?” she inquired, feeling defeated. Every time she was getting a little bit ahead—BAM!—something dragged her back down.

“Repairs could nickel and dime you to death, and it still might not run.”

With no other choice, she asked, “Do I just leave it here?”

“Yeah, then he’ll be in touch.” He dug into his pocket for a business card and jotted a number on the back. “This is a friend of mine. He’s got a vehicle for sale. It’s 15 years old and not much to look at, but I can vouch for the engine since I’m the one who works on it.”

“Thanks,” she murmured, their fingers brushing as she took it. “I’ll call a cab and be out of your way.”

He removed the service order from his clipboard and handed it to her. “This is for the diagnostic and labor.”

Her heart sank seeing the painful total at the bottom. She’d be dining on Raman noodles for a while.

“Hey, I’m off in fifteen. If you want to grab something to eat with me—my treat—I’ll take you home after.” When she hesitated, he flashed a smile. “You’re on my way. It’s no problem.”

Merry blinked. “How do you know which way I’m going?”

He raised his clipboard. “You gave us your address and phone number on check-in.”

“Oh. Right.”

“I understand if you don’t want to. We just met, and it’s obviously been a bad day for you. Another time, maybe.”

He was cute, flirtatious but not pushy, and saving on cab fare and dinner was very tempting. Did she dare?

“Thanks, Johnny. I’d like that.”

Although the conversation over burgers and fries was friendly, they had little in common.

When he pulled his truck into her driveway an hour and a half later, he insisted on walking her to the door. Merry should have sensed something was up when he placed his hand a bit too low on her back, but she was digging in her purse for her keys and didn’t object at the time. As soon as they stepped onto her porch, he was all over her, his hands everywhere at once. It was like fighting off a groping octopus.

“Get off me!” Merry insisted, pushing at his chest while trying to wriggle free. But he ignored her, his slobbery lips sliding down her cheek.

“Stop, or I’ll scream,” she warned as she fought his persistent hands, yelping when he roughly pinched a nipple.

“Come on, beautiful. We can have some fun together.”

“No way. You’re disgusting.”