by Danni Roan
Red Truck Rendezvous
The Ornamental Match Maker
Danni Roan
Copyright © 2020 Danni Roan
All rights reserved
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
ISBN-13: 979-8654038050
ASIN: B08BDVMXJ9
Cover design by: EDH Graphics
Library of Congress Control Number: 2018675309
Printed in the United States of America
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Introduction
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Introduction
Pablo Jimenez counts his blessings every day. He has his own humble auto repair shop, a family who loves him, and some good friends for a bit of fun. What he doesn’t have and doesn’t need is a pretty, pesky customer with a classic truck with a mind of its own.
Portia Princeton loves all things auto. From her racy Jaguar to her vintage RV, now all she needs is for her classic truck to be restored in time for Christmas. With nowhere else to turn in the backwoods of Michigan, she limps her way to Pablo’s Garage as a last resort. Will she get exactly what she wants or what she truly needs?
Find out if Mrs. Claus can bring two lonely hearts together with a hint of magic and a whole lot of fun in this Christmas in July romance.
Short, sweet, sassy, and a little Santa on the side.
For more books in this series visit the series page:
The Ornamental Match Maker
Here's what all the buzz is about:
Mrs. Claus is all about spreading Christmas cheer — especially to the many lonely hearts seeking friendship, love, healing, second chances, and that special someone to call their own.
To help each lovely heroine and dashing hero find their perfect match, Mrs. Claus mails them a magical holiday ornament. From a carousel horse that matches the exact horse, a hero will be found riding to an iced angel just like the cookies a dreamy chef bakes, each ornament has a real-world counterpart that, if followed, will lead to true love.
From historical to contemporary, from heartfelt to humorous, each of these sweet romance stories ends in a festive happily ever after that will leave you wanting more — so be sure to check out all the titles in our Ornamental Match Maker Series as they release.
Chapter 1
Portia Princeton shifted the old truck into low, flinching at the harsh grinding noise emitting from the transmission box. An auto lover from an early age, she knew that taking the 1942 Ford service truck on the road before having it restored had been a bad move, but she couldn’t resist. After all, the engine had cranked over without hesitation, and even with the faded paint and spots of rust, the truck hadn’t hesitated to pull her vintage trailer north.
Daddy had warned her not to start off on this trip before having her little rig completely refurbished, but Portia couldn’t wait. She had been dreaming of this trip all winter, and whatever inconveniences rose from her haste could be easily overcome with a bit of cash.
“Come on now, Sweetie,” Portia’s light voice drawled, willing the weary truck to keep chugging toward the great lakes area. “We’ve come too far to stop now.”
A loud backfire made Portia squeal, as a strange shudder vibrating through her seat, made her groan. “Just a little farther, just a little farther,” she chanted, leaning forward and peering out the windshield, her aqua eyes flickering in the sun.
If she could find a garage, perhaps she could get Sweetie patched up. Even if she had to leave the truck with the mechanic for a few days, she still had her vintage trailer to stay in. There had to be a garage somewhere out here in the middle of nowhere. Portia would find a good place to camp, get the work done, and be on her way once more.
The truck shimmied again, and Portia realized that she wouldn’t make her spot at the Michigan State Park today, but a few days amidst farms and lakeshore might be lovely.
The ancient, faded-red truck inched to the top of the hill, and Portia reached out a hand patting the dash as if the truck were an obedient dog. “I knew you could do it!” her voice filled with delight as the truck began to roll slowly down the opposite slope.
Scanning the plains below, a flicker of color caught the young woman’s eye, and she stuck her head out the open window for a better look, her ash-blonde curls buffeting her face.
The unassuming barn with the wood-shingled mansard roof was anything but inspiring, but the large rusty sign that read ‘garage’ in big letters made Portia’s heart skip a beat.
Pulling her head back in the window as the truck picked up speed, the young woman grabbed the gear shifter, shoving the truck into third, and waiting for her momentum to slow. A heavy clunking sound vibrated from the gearbox, and the whole vehicle shimmied as it continued to barrel toward the bottom of the hill.
Portia’s knuckles grew white as she fought the gear knob, struggling to yank it into place. She was going too fast. She was going to overshoot her goal and probably crash. Her rush to hit the road was about to spell disaster.
Stomping on the brake pedal, Portia gripped the wheel in well-manicured hands. She had been driving fast cars for half of her twenty-four years and knew what she had to do, but with the unreliable transmission, she wasn’t sure it would work. “Come on, Sweetie,” she pleaded. “Don’t give up on me now.”
***
“Pablo! Pablo! Where are you?”
“I’m here, I’m here!” A dark-haired man in a pair of greasy overalls wheeled out from under a car, grabbing a rag from his back pocket. “What on earth is wrong with you, Nita?” he grumbled, rising and wiping his hands on the rag. “I could have brained myself on that muffler with all this yelling.”
“You got a package, big brother,” the girl called Nita grinned. “It’s very pretty.” Nita’s dark eyes sparkled as she pulled the package out of her bag. “Maybe a special friend sent it to you.”
Pablo shook his head in disgust. As the only single member of the Jimenez family, he was constantly harassed by the others who all seemed to think that he should be happily wed by now. Didn’t they realize that he had to put every waking hour into the garage just to keep it going? He hadn’t spent all those years working and studying to be a mechanic just to work for someone else.
“Put it in the office. I’m too grubby to open it now.” The young man shook his head of closely cropped coal-black hair. “You could have waited until I got home, you know?” Glancing at the package, a small shiver ran down his back. The pretty box looked a little too familiar somehow.
Nita laughed. “What would be the fun in that? Besides, it looks like a Christmas present.”
Pablo looked up, his dark brown eyes, so like his sisters, narrowing. “It’s almost July, why would I be getting a Christmas present? It’s probably one of those promo gifts that manufactures are always sending, hoping to get you to carry their brand exclusively or something.”
Nita, whose real name w
as Anita, held the package up to the light, examining the bright red wrapping paper and giving it a gentle shake. “I don’t think so. It doesn’t even rattle.”
“Nita, I don’t have time for this, just put it in the office, and I’ll get to it later. Can’t you see I have work to do? Besides, won’t Devon be looking for you? He’s gotten very overprotective of you in your condition.” Pablo’s grin was bright and teasing as his eyes caught the slight rounding under Anita’s full blouse.
“Devon is working, and he is not overly protective,” she smiled, running her hands over the baby bump. “He just loves me.”
“He’s a doctor, and he fusses,” Pablo didn’t want to let it go. He could see he was getting to his little sister. “Ouch!”
“That’s what you get for teasing a pregnant woman,” Nita grinned, rubbing her knuckles that ached from punching her brother’s very muscular arm. “Now be nice, and I’ll put this in the office, but don’t forget about it.”
“Alright, alright!” Pablo promised as Nita walked toward the back of the old barn turned garage. Perhaps the place wasn’t much, but it was his, and he was even managing to hold his head above water in the business sense. Besides, he loved his job, what more could he need?
The sound of squealing brakes and the unmistakable scent of burnt rubber, made Pablo turn toward the open barn door. Someone was in trouble.
Still gripping the greasy rag, Pablo trotted out into the hard-packed dirt lot, squinting into the light, as an old red Ford pickup truck snaked toward him, the vintage camper hitched behind, wagging like the tail of a dog.
Chapter 2
Pablo dropped the rag from his hands and raced toward the entrance of his parking area. The old barn had been converted to a garage ages ago, and the defunct gas pumps were little more than a reminder of a by-gone era, but they could still do a lot of damage if the truck slammed into them.
“This way! This way!” the young mechanic yelled, racing forward, waving both hands toward the rise of the barn bridge on the near side of the wooden building. “Go up! Go up!”
If whoever was driving the antique rig could maneuver it toward the gentle rise of earth leading to the upper portion of the barn, perhaps they could slow down enough to pop the clutch and grind to a halt.
Pablo raced forward, nearly matching the speed of the old truck as it bounced over the tall grass of the slope, its nose jutting skyward as it rolled to a jittery stop before the engine died.
“Are you okay?” Pablo asked breathlessly as he peered through the window in time to see a manicured hand yank back hard on the emergency brake handle.
“I think so,” a rich, sultry voice echoed as the driver turned, brushing wild golden locks from her heart-shaped face. “I’m glad you pointed me in the right direction.” The pretty woman smiled shakily.
Pablo’s heart stuttered to a stop as he gazed into bright aqua eyes. A woman, a beautiful woman, was driving this dilapidated jalopy.
“Hi.” The young man’s lopsided grin seemed frozen on his face as his hand came to rest on the panel of the door.
“Hi.” A brilliant smile seemed to shame the sun. “Uhm, is this your place?”
Pablo blinked, giving himself a shake to clear his head as the woman reached out and grasped the handle of the door. Realizing that the door pull mechanism inside must not work, he reached to help, his fingers falling on a silky smooth hand that sent a cooling wave along his arm. “Here, let me get that for you,” he offered awkwardly.
As the woman withdrew her hand, Pablo wrenched the protesting door open, stepping back to let the driver, and hopefully, his new client out.
“Thanks, I’m Portia Princeton, and I hope you can help me.” Long denim-clad legs, followed by a deep blue silk blouse and red scarf, seemed to slide from the battered interior of the old truck. “I think I’m going to need a lot of work.” The woman turned to place both hands on the driver’s door and slamming it shut. “Do you think you’re up for the task?”
Pablo couldn’t seem to pull his eyes from the woman’s slender curves as he tried to chase the cobwebs from his brain. “What?”
“I said, do you think you can help me?” Portia’s brows furrowed as she met the man’s coffee-colored eyes. He was about two inches taller than she was, and his sun-darkened skin, with that inky black hair, made him quite dashing. “I’m afraid Sweetie is going to need a complete rebuild.”
Pablo tipped his head, his dark eyes confused. “Sweetie?”
“That’s my truck,” Portia reached a hand behind her, giving the old Ford a pat. “I know I shouldn’t have tried this trip yet, but I didn’t want to wait. I’ve been dreaming of a lakeside summer for years. Now, can you fix my truck or not?”
“I don’t know,” Pablo admitted honestly. “I’d need to get it up on the rack and have a look. Even if it isn’t serious, I can’t guarantee I’ll be able to get parts, and if I do, they won’t be cheap.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that,” the woman waved her elegant hand under his nose as if brushing at a gnat, “money is no object.”
Pablo’s eyes grew wide, studying the woman before him. She was dressed casually, but in the finest of casual fare, and she wore it well. “Do you want me to do a complete rebuild on this old truck or just patch it up?”
Portia turned, examining the truck. “It really should be rebuilt.” Another bright smile knocked out the sun. “When can you start? Can you help me unhook the trailer and find a place to set it up?” Portia gazed around the mostly dirt lot and sniffed. “Can I stay here for a few days while you get the truck fixed?”
The sharp bark of laughter escaped the mechanic before he could stop it and only grew louder at the harsh look the woman shot back at him, making his smile flash even brighter.
“Did I say something funny?” Her rigid stance and crossed arms told Pablo that she was getting mad.
“Only that you think this truck can be fixed in a couple of days.”
“Oh,” Miss Pretty nibbled a pink nail and frowned. “Well, I can’t stay here indefinitely without hookups. I was headed to one of the state parks, but there’s no way I’ll make it now.” She cast a look back at the old truck, frowning at the acrid smell of burnt rubber.
Pablo ran a hand through his dark waves of hair and sighed. “I’ll tell you what, first let me get this truck backed down the hill and then we’ll get your trailer unhooked. After that, I’ll get the truck into the garage, and on the lift, so we can see what we’re looking at. When I’m done with that, we’ll figure out what to do next.”
“That sounds like a fair start, but where am I supposed to be all this time? I can’t hang out in the trailer all day without power or water?”
“One step at a time,” Pablo insisted, raising a grease-stained hand. “I’m sure we’ll figure something out.”
“Pablo, I’m heading home.” Anita walked out of the garage, stopping when she saw her brother talking to a tall woman, with supermodel good looks. “Oh, sorry,” she grinned, hurrying his direction. “I didn’t know you had company.”
“Anita, this is Portia Princeton, and she’s having some car issues.”
“Then you came to the right place,” Anita said, studying the strange arrangement of the truck and trailer. “My brother can fix anything.”
Pablo shook his head as Anita introduced herself, taking far too much interest in the woman. “Your trailer is adorable,” Nita gushed. “Where are you headed?”
“Nowhere for the moment, I’m afraid. Old Sweetie here just couldn’t go on.” Portia turned back to study the truck, whose nose aimed skyward as it sat at a crooked angle on the barn bridge.
“That’s too bad, but I’m sure Pablo will get you fixed up soon. He is the best mechanic in the area. In the meantime, my sister-in-law's bed and breakfast is just up the road. They have a few RV spots there if you’d like to stay. I’m sure once Pablo has a look at your truck, he could tow you over. Isn’t that right, Pablo?”
Pablo cut his little sister
a hard glare but nodded. “I was going to suggest that once we got this thing safely pulled apart.” His dark eyes flashed at his sister, stealing his thunder. “Nita, why don’t you head home? You can check with Jamie and Carlos to see if they have a spot for the trailer and give me a call? In the meantime, we’d better get this mess taken care of.”
Turning his back on his sister, Pablo rubbed his chin, trying to think of the best way to get the truck and trailer backed safely off the low hill.
Chapter 3
It took nearly half an hour to get the truck backed off the slope of the barn bridge and safely into the garage.
Worried about Sweetie’s overheated brakes giving out, Pablo had to use the winch on his ’04 Chevy Tahoe to anchor the truck while Portia backed it onto more even ground.
