A Perfectly Imperfect Match (Matchmaking Mamas)

by Marie Ferrarella

  “Start yours first,” she urged as she got in behind the steering wheel in her car.

  When the other engine hummed to life, Elizabeth pressed down on the gas pedal and turned the key, mentally crossing her fingers. She might as well not have bothered.

  Her engine remained dormant.

  There wasn’t so much as a feeble whimper coming from that region. Every spark of life in the battery had been utterly siphoned off.

  Jared came around to her side of the two tethered vehicles and looked down at her battery. Usually, when a mechanic swapped out a battery, he would scratch out the month and year on the new one to indicate just when it had been pressed into service. He saw nothing but spots of corrosion on top of this battery.

  “How old is it?” he asked, tapping the top of the battery where the dates should have been.

  “Old” was all she said. Then, because he was apparently waiting for more, she added, “I’m not really sure.”

  Jared tried another approach, hoping to jog her memory. “Have you put a new battery in since you bought the car?”

  He saw a guilty look pass over her face in response to his question. A second later, she shook her head.

  That answered that, he thought.

  “Well,” he began with a slight, drawn-out drawl, “the good news is I think we’ve located your problem.”

  Since he’d enunciated it like that, she braced herself before asking, “And the bad?”

  “I’d say you definitely need a new battery, and most auto parts places are probably closed for the night by now.”

  Fruitlessly trying to bring the battery around had taken them a while, and it was now after six.

  Jared took out his smartphone and pressed a button to bring it back to life. The moment he did, his thumbs began to fly over the keyboard.

  “Are you texting someone?” Actually, what she wanted to ask was who was he texting at a time like this.

  It seemed to her a rather strange time to touch base with a friend. But then, on the other hand, why not? It was her car that had the problem, not his. He was perfectly free to do whatever he wanted, take off wherever he wanted.

  “Just finding out if The Auto Mall is still open,” he explained, referring to a popular auto parts chain. Still looking, he pulled up the chain’s nearest location. The store hours were printed right underneath it. “It is,” he announced.

  Where was he going with this? she wondered. “Is that good?”

  “Only if you want to drive home tonight,” he told her glibly.

  Taking a small notepad out of his other pocket, he jotted down the auto shop’s address and then stood looking thoughtfully at his phone for a moment.

  “Give me a minute,” he told her. Turning his back on her, he hit one of the thirty preprogrammed numbers in his phone as he walked away.

  Elizabeth watched him, wondering if he was calling a cab for her, or if the call even had anything to do with her dilemma.

  Well, aren’t you the swell-headed one?

  Why should his call have anything to do with me? Elizabeth asked herself. It wasn’t as if the man was obligated to help her. Her car would have gone dead whether or not he had shown up today to catch her on-air performance.

  She just hoped that this little mishap hadn’t cost her a job. After all she was definitely not at her best with this vehicle dead at her feet, and he might view her as a flighty female who wasn’t capable of staying on top of the simplest of things...like regular maintenance on her car.

  In her defense, finding work these days was a full-time job in itself. All the other details of her life—like buying food or getting her car serviced—just had to be fit around her search as best as she could manage. Keeping tabs on the life of her battery, she thought ruefully as she glared at her nonresponsive vehicle, had just fallen through the cracks.

  And now, she thought, taking out her own phone, she was paying for it.

  She was about to call one of her brothers to ask for a ride home when the handsome stranger sent her way by the mysterious Theresa Manetti walked back up to her.

  “All right,” he told her, “we’re all set.”

  “All set?” she echoed. Just how was being stranded in a parking lot forty miles from home anything close to that?

  He shot her a reassuring look. “The manager said he’d stay open for us, as long as we get there in the next twenty minutes.”

  “Manager?” She was beginning to feel as if she’d slipped into some parallel universe where she’d landed the role of the village idiot, destined to repeat words that made no sense to her in their present context. “Manager of what?” she wanted to know.

  “Manager of the vintage parts section in The Auto Mall,” he explained, then nodded toward his own car. “C’mon,” he urged. “Get in.”

  Rather than comply, she remained where she was, trying to process what he was saying. “Wait, you’re driving to The Auto Mall?”

  “Well, I left my helicopter in my other jacket,” he deadpanned, “so yes, I’m driving. The funny thing about batteries, they don’t come when you call them so we’re going to have to go and pick it up at the store.”

  Why was he doing this? He didn’t even know her. And then something else struck her. “Didn’t you say you had a schedule to keep, or an appointment to go to?”

  He’d just been on the phone, taking care of that little detail. The client was hooked on the campaign he’d pitched so there was little chance of losing him by temporarily postponing their meeting over drinks at McIntyre’s.

  “Not anymore,” he told her. “I rescheduled.”

  It still wasn’t making any sense to her. “But why?”

  He got in behind the wheel and gestured for her to get in on the passenger side. “Let’s just say I’m a sucker for a damsel in distress,” he told her. “Now, are you going to get in, or are we just going to stand here and talk until the store closes?” he wanted to know.

  “I’m getting in,” she answered, quickly doing just that.

  But he didn’t immediately take off the way she’d expected him to. Instead, Jared paused a moment longer to input the address of the auto parts store into his GPS. Offhand, since this part of town wasn’t his usual haunt, he had no idea where the store was in relation to the studio.

  Replacing the GPS into its stand on the dashboard, Jared started up his car.

  Elizabeth held her tongue as long as she was able, which amounted to thirty seconds before it got the better of her. “You don’t know where the store is?” she asked him as they pulled out of the lot.

  “No, I don’t,” he admitted. “But the GPS does,” he assured her, flashing a wide, bright smile at her.

  She found the smile stirring, and his willingness to admit that he didn’t instinctively know how to find any place on the map more than admirable.

  “Most men won’t ask for directions,” she pointed out, thinking of her father and brothers. Her brothers would rather go to their graves than admit to ignorance when it came to road travel. Her father, on the other hand, seemed to know where everything was and how to get there, so he had no need to ask. “They feel it somehow belittles their manhood.”

  “Technically, I didn’t ask for directions,” he pointed out. “I just told Gloria to find the best way to get to The Auto Mall.”

  “Gloria?” she echoed. Was that the name of some administrative assistant back in his office? Or did the name belong to a girlfriend?

  And why would any of that even matter to her? Elizabeth silently demanded. Jared was a client—a potential client, she corrected herself. What he wasn’t was a potential hunk.

  Well, actually, she corrected herself again, he was. But the point was that he wasn’t her potential hunk.

  After all, what would she do with one of those? These days, what with her patchwork quilt of different gigs, she was having trouble finding the time to schedule an oil change for her car, much less anything else. When in heaven’s name would she possibly find the time for a ma
n in her life?

  “That’s what I call the GPS,” he told her wryly. “Mine has this female voice that sounds pretty peeved with me every time I opt to ignore one of her directions. I had a teacher like that in elementary school. Her name was Mrs. Reynolds. Mrs. Gloria Reynolds,” he emphasized. “She taught fourth grade, and it felt like nothing I ever did was right in her eyes. Every time I hear my GPS mutter ‘recalculating,’ I think of Mrs. Reynolds...so I just decided to call the GPS Gloria,” Jared told her.

  She honestly didn’t know if Jared was being serious, or just pulling her leg. But whether he was or wasn’t, that didn’t change the fact that he was putting himself out for her.

  She was grateful to him.

  * * *

  Manny Ramirez was just about to lock up the store for the night when a couple rushed his way.

  “You the guy who called about a battery for his T-Bird?” he called out as they approached.

  “It’s her Thunderbird,” Jared corrected, “but yeah, I’m the one who called.”

  “Got it right over here,” the manager told them, beckoning them over to the last cash register. The battery was out of sight, stored beneath the counter. “Must be your lucky day,” he told Jared. Making his way around the counter, he hefted the battery and placed it on the counter beside the register.

  “Because I caught you before you closed up?” Jared asked.

  The man shook his head. “Because you got the last battery I had that’ll fit into the space under the hood. That’s not exactly a common model,” Manny told them as he rang up the sale. “Didn’t get too many requests for it so I stopped carrying them.” He patted the battery. “This was the last of its kind in the store. I’m not even sure if the other auto shops have it. It’s usually a special-order item.”

  “Then I guess we really are lucky,” Jared agreed, glancing at Elizabeth.

  She already had her credit card out and handed it over to the manager. “We really appreciate you staying open for us.”

  “Hey, anytime. Nothing waiting for me at home but a wife who starts complaining the minute I walk through the door,” he told them with a sigh. Taking the credit card, Manny glanced at the back to make sure it was signed. Satisfied, he swiped the magnetic strip through the card reader next to the register.

  Elizabeth waited until it asked for her signature, then did the best she could to make it look legible, not an easy feat with something that resembled an Etch A Sketch.

  Manny gave it a second. When he saw the words transaction accepted, he nodded with a smile. “Looks like you’re good to go,” he told them. The whole transaction had taken under ten minutes to complete. The store manager waved them off, saying, “You two have yourselves a nice night, now.”

  The way he said it, Elizabeth was certain that the store manager thought they were a couple. She knew she should have corrected the man, but for a moment, she just allowed herself to enjoy the sensation of being thought of as one half of a duo. In truth, the notion of having someone standing beside her through thick and thin was incredibly tantalizing.

  What surprised her most of all, though, was that Jared didn’t say anything, didn’t try to set the man straight.

  Maybe, she mused, along with being a knight in shining armor, he was also a sensitive man who didn’t like making people feel foolish or uncomfortable by pointing out their mistakes.

  “Thanks, things are looking up...now that we’ve got this,” Jared called back, indicating the battery he was carrying out of the store.

  * * *

  They were back in the parking lot within half an hour of initially leaving it. The guard posted at the studio entrance stopped them from going in. “Need to see your ID,” he said.

  “But we were just here,” Jared protested, taking out his driver’s license. “You checked my ID before.”

  “And you were on the list as a visitor for the More than Roommates taping. But they’re gone for the day and that means you should be, too.” His eyes swept over both of them. It was apparent that he recognized her as well, but the same limitations applied to her as to the man he’d just denied access to the studio.

  “We’re not going to the soundstage,” Elizabeth told the guard. “Just the parking lot.”

  “Lots of other parking lots to go to that aren’t behind closed gates,” the guard informed them.

  “You don’t understand. My car battery died and this man was nice enough to take me to the last auto parts store that was still open to get a new battery. It’s right in the back if you don’t believe me. You can come see for yourself,” she urged.

  “I believe you. If you were going to make up a story, it would have been more interesting than that,” he groused. Pausing for a moment, as if wrestling with his conscience, he finally stepped aside. “It’s against regulations, but okay, go on in. But just be quick about it,” he urged.

  “Absolutely. I have no intentions of spending the night here,” she told the guard, then turned to look at Jared. “Thanks to you,” she added.

  Jared shrugged off her thanks as he drove back onto the lot and toward her vehicle. “Just trying to earn my merit badge,” he cracked.

  “You earned it when you found the parts guy,” she responded.

  “Then maybe I’ll go for two,” he said, pressing down on the accelerator. With most of the soundstages closed for the evening, there was far less foot and vehicle traffic and no reason to go slow.

  Reaching her car, he took a flashlight out of his glove compartment and got out. Elizabeth jumped out on her side, eager to get this over with. She’d detained Jared long enough already.

  He turned on the flashlight, and handed it to Elizabeth. “Here, hold this,” he instructed, then gestured for her to aim the light at the inside of the open hood.

  Jared took the new battery out of his backseat and brought it over to her car, setting it down on the ground. He took a long look at the defunct battery inside her car. Getting it out would have been a very simple matter—if he had the proper tools.

  Staring at the dead battery now, he muttered under his breath, “Houston, we have a problem.”

  Elizabeth moved so that she was right next to him. Since he was staring at the battery, she looked down at it, too. “What’s wrong?”

  “I need tools to get the battery uncoupled and out,” he told her. “Tools I don’t have and forgot to pick up when we went to get the battery.”

  “Tools?” She moved back to her trunk. “You mean like these?” she asked, pulling a small tool box out of her trunk.

  Bringing the box over to Jared, she popped open the lid and displayed a variety of tools intended just for the inner workings of a car.

  “Exactly like these,” he said, impressed. Those were not exactly considered to be standard accessories for a woman. “Why do you have tools like that in your trunk?”

  “My dad insisted I carry these at all times, along with my jumper cables. I’ve had trouble with my car before, and he thought all this might come in handy someday.” She grinned. “I guess this qualifies as ‘someday.’” She handed the tool box over to Jared. “My dad said that I was better off driving around with them and never having to use a single one than not having them and suddenly finding myself in a real bind.”

  Jared heartily agreed with that philosophy. “Smart man, your father.”

  Nothing made her happier than hearing someone praise her dad. To her way of thinking, her father didn’t get nearly as much praise as he deserved.

  “That’s what he’s always telling me,” she answered with a laugh.

  Then, as she watched, Jared took off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves, displaying some very admirable forearms in the process.

  Forearms that strained appealingly as he finally lifted the old battery out and set it on the ground beside the one she had just purchased.

  As she continued to watch him with deliberately hooded eyes, Elizabeth began to think that maybe her battery picking this particular time to die wasn’t really
such a bad thing after all.

  Chapter Five

  The entire procedure of exchanging one battery for another and then hooking it up seemed to take a remarkably short amount of time. In Elizabeth’s estimation, the trip to the shop to purchase the new battery had taken longer than the actual removal of the old battery and the installation of the new one.

  When Jared announced he was “done,” Elizabeth could only stare at him.

  “Go ahead, try it,” he urged, waving her back behind the wheel of her vehicle.

  Skeptical, Elizabeth got in and turned the key in the ignition. The smooth, soothing sound of her engine coming to life and obligingly turning over was absolutely wonderful.

  “You did it,” she cried in relief. Up until now, she had been more or less certain that she was going to have to call a towing service.

  With a nod, Jared triumphantly declared, “And we have lift off,” as he wiped the smudges of oil and dirt from his hands.

  “I don’t know how to thank you,” she exalted, leaving her engine running—just in case. It was, without a doubt, a truly beautiful sound.

  Belatedly, Jared realized that the handkerchief he’d pulled out of his pocket—part of a set his mother had gifted him with, saying a gentleman never knew when he might just need a handkerchief—was probably ruined. The oil looked pretty permanent to him.

  “Just play as well for my parents at their party as you did today in the studio, and that’ll be thanks enough,” he replied.

  Elizabeth waved his suggestion away. The two weren’t even in the same realm.

  “That was already a given before you rode to my rescue.” And then she looked down at the front of his shirt. Because of the darkness, she hadn’t noticed it before. She did now. There were several streaks of what appeared to be grease on it. “Well, for starters,” she told him, “I can have your shirt cleaned for you, or pay for your cleaning bill if you have a favorite cleaners you use.”

  He looked down at his shirt, spotting the dark streaks across the front. He didn’t even remember leaning either of the batteries against himself, but obviously he must have. Grease like that didn’t just leap through the air, playing a perverse game of “tag, you’re it.”