Page 1 of The Mechanic's Match
Chapter One
Amelia
My first thought when I step out of the taxi in Devil’s Peak is that I’ve made a colossal mistake. The second is that my memory could never do this place justice. Rolling mountains frame the horizon, their jagged peaks biting into a sky so blue it looks fake. The crisp air carries the scent of pine and earth, so far removed from the exhaust fumes of Chicago that I feel like I’ve stepped into another world.
Then I remember my suitcase isn’t here, and my phone battery is teetering on the edge of death.
“Great start, Amelia,” I mutter, tugging my carry-on bag higher on my shoulder. Buttercup lets out a long and tortured meow. She and my laptop bag with camera equipment are my only lifeline now. Everything else—clothes, toiletries, the essentials—is stuck in some stranger’s hands, probably halfway to a corporate retreat in Denver.
I inhale deeply, summoning the optimism that fuels my travel blog,Wanderlust and Whimsy. This is an adventure. Not a disaster.
Yet.
I glance down at the hastily scratched address on the sticky note in my hand.
River Auto. 673 Mountain Ave.
My next adventure: researching the mail-order bride trend that’s swept these mountains the last few years…bybecominga mail-order bride.
I’m not sure what to expect, only that the ad gave an address and saidgood woman needed, no questions asked. Apply in-person.
I cross the street to the local diner, hoping to gather my wits and get some directions since my phone battery won’t last another minute with the maps app open.
The Phantom View Diner, with its hand-painted sign and faded red awning, seems like a good place to regroup. The waitress, an older woman with a no-nonsense vibe, is kind enough to listen to my suitcase woes without rolling her eyes.
“You’re stuck without clothes?” she asks, her brow arching. “Honey, the only place to get clothes around here is by renting ski attire at the lodge. Nearest Walmart is two hours back.”
“Great.” I grunt, adjusting Buttercup’s carrier, feeling totally defeated. “I guess I should just head to River Auto–can you give me directions?”
“Why on earth would you go there?” The waitress narrows her eyes at me.
“It’s the reason I’m here.” I sigh, stirring my lukewarm coffee. “I answered a mail-order bride ad as research for my job actually.”
“Well, no shit.” The waitress smirks. “You’re lookin’ for Fox Miller then,” she says, with a twinkle in her eye like she’s in on a private joke. “He’s the town mechanic. If anyone can help you track down that suitcase, it’s him. His garage is just down the road, hang a left at the stop sign.”
“Mechanic?” I wrinkle my nose at the idea of grease-stained overalls and an oil-slicked demeanor. But I don’t have options, and judging by the smirk still hovering on her lips, this Fox character is either incredibly helpful or incredibly infuriating.
Probably both.
I finish my coffee, leaving the waitress a generous tip and then adjusting Buttercup on my shoulder and head out the door and down main street.
Ten minutes later, the sound of a pneumatic wrench hissing fills the air as I approach the open garage of River Auto. My steps falter when I catch sight of the man inside. He’s bent over the hood of an old truck, his broad shoulders filling out a dark t-shirt that clings to his frame in a way that makes my breath hitch.
His arms flex as he works, muscles rippling beneath sun-kissed skin smudged with grease. A faded ball cap obscures his face, but even from a distance, I can tell he’s not the stereotypical gruff mechanic I was expecting. He’s the embodiment of rugged mountain masculinity, with a hint of danger that sends a thrill skittering down my spine.
He glances up when he hears me approach, his blue eyes locking onto mine with the intensity of a predator sizing up its prey.
“You lost?” he asks, his voice deep and gruff.
My heart stops for one long moment.Lost in those eyes, maybe.I shake off the thought and straighten my spine. “I’m...your bride, Amelia.”
He straightens, wiping his hands on a rag, and I can’t help but notice how tall he is. He towers over me, his presence filling the space like a thundercloud. “Come again?”
“I’m here to answer your ad.” I clarify.
His eyes flick up and down my form before a smirk crosses his lips. “Are you kidding? That ad was listed for like two hours before I came to my senses and deleted it.”
“Oh.” My gaze falls to the oil-stained floor.
