Page 6 of Broken Trails
“Yeah, I got that when you nearly asphyxiated half my shop,” I say dryly, nodding toward the car. “Pop the hood, and I’ll see what’s going on.”
She mutters something under her breath but moves, popping the hood from inside the car. Her white dress swishes around her legs as she walks, and I catch Sam’s amused glance out of the corner of my eye. One glance at the engine bay, and I spot the problem—a busted radiator hose spraying coolant and oileverywhere. That explains the smoke and puddle of fluids under the car.
Harrison appears beside me with a smirk. “Need any assistance, sir?”
“Piss off.”
He chuckles, clearly enjoying the show, but saunters off, still grinning. “I’ll leave you to it, Mikey boy. Looks like you’ve got your hands full.”
I sigh and straighten up. “Your radiator hose is shot, and it’s leaking coolant all over. I’ll fix it, but it’s gonna take a bit.”
Her hands go to her hips, agitation practically radiating off her. “How long is ‘a bit’?”
I’m slammed with work back inside, but something about her has me saying, “Not long. You can wait inside if you want.”
She looks behind me at the shop, and I notice her body shift. “No thanks. I’ll stay here.”
“What, you don’t trust me, city girl?” I counter, smirking.
“City girl?” she scoffs. “You know nothing about me.”
“Mhm, sure,” I say, ticking off on my fingers. “Sundress, flashy bag, those heels that aren’t made for gravel—pretty obvious.”
Her eyes narrow, and she fires back. “At least I don’t smell like cigarettes and bad decisions.”
I let out a low chuckle and get to work, hands moving automatically as I replace the hose, tighten clamps, and refill fluids. After finishing, I clean up the tools and wipe down the engine bay.
“Is it done?” she asks, standing by with her arms crossed.
“Yeah. It’s done,” I reply, wiping my hands on a rag.
“How much?”
“Follow me,” I say, nodding toward the shop. She trails behind, silent but clearly still irritated. Inside, I jot down the costs and slide the invoice across the counter. She hands over her card without a word. The name catches my eye. Zoe De Luca.Now, under the fluorescents, I notice more—the freckles dusting the bridge of her nose, her cheeks, and the faint tension in her jaw.
“Got a staring problem?” she asks, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.
“You sure you know your way around here, Zoe?” I drawl, making sure to linger on her name.
“I’ll manage.”
Once the payment’s through, I slide her card back across the counter. “Not with that attitude,” I say under my breath. “And you’re welcome, by the way. For getting your car back on the road.”
“Whatever. Thanks.” She turns on her heel.
“Laters, Freckles.” I lean back against the counter, letting a slow smirk creep in. “Try not to get lost. Wouldn’t want to have to tow you out next time.”
Her head pops around the doorframe just long enough for “Oh, screw you” to echo back.
Feisty.
I watch her slide behind the wheel, sunglasses on, hair whipping in the breeze as she reverses out like she’s got a pack of demons on her tail. The dust hasn’t even settled when Sam wanders up beside me, letting out a low whistle.
“Well, well. That was something.”
“Yeah,” I mutter, shaking my head with a faint smirk. “Something alright.”
I glance toward the empty stretch of road where she disappeared. Zoe De Luca. My gut says she’s trouble, but damn if trouble’s not the most interesting thing to walk through my doors in a while.
