by Maria Geraci
“Someone coming to help you?”
“Not that I need help, but my husband will be here any second. Plus, I’ve changed lots of flat tires. Honest, I’m good. You can go now. Thanks again for stopping.”
But move along already.
His gaze went from the flat tire to the suitcases lying on the side of the road. “Where are you headed?”
None of your business, mister.
“Like I said, my husband should be here any second.”
He started toward her. “I’m not trying to make you nervous, ma’am, I’m—”
“Stop right there.” Using both hands, she held the can of mace high in the air like a weapon, aiming it straight at him. “I have two words for you. Pepper spray and I’m from south Florida.” This time she couldn’t hide the shake in her voice.
“That’s seven words.”
“What?”
“I said … never mind. I got it. You’re a badass.” His voice was laced with both amusement and exasperation. “Do not use that pepper spray on me. Understand? I’m going to go back to my truck now.” Without taking his eyes off her, he slowly walked backward until he reached his truck, then he leaned against the hood and crossed his arms over his chest.
Sweat pooled between her breasts. “What are you doing?”
“Waiting.”
“For what?”
He sighed. “Look, lady, I’ve just spent eight hours clearing a field and I’m bone dead tired. I’d love nothing more than to get back in my truck so I can hit my bed, but my momma would kill me if she knew I’d left you and your pepper spray out here all alone. So either start changing that tire or let me do it. Either way is fine with me, but I’d appreciate it if we can speed things up.”
Well crap. Now what?
He’d left his trucks lights on, letting her get a better look at him. What did he say, he’d just spent eight hours clearing a field? She wasn’t sure exactly what that entailed but he did look rather dusty. He could be exactly what he seemed—just some nice farmer who stopped to help.
Or he could be a crazed escapee from prison. She’d seen enough episodes of America’s Most Vicious Criminals to know how that would end. She shuddered at the vision that popped into her head.
She had three options.
She could take him up on his offer to change the flat. He seemed to have a healthy fear of the pepper spray, which was good. She could casually hold on to the can while he changed the flat. That way if he made a wrong move … Bam! Before he knew what was what, she’d let him have right in the eyes. Only that wouldn’t work because to change the tire he’d need to use the jack. He must be at least six foot two. He could easily overpower her. Giving him access to the jack would be like asking to be hit over the head. No thank you.
Option number two was to keep doing what she was doing, yielding the pepper spray as a weapon until he either got tired and went away, or she got too tired to hold it. The thing was, he looked awful comfortable leaning against that truck, and she was probably only going to last another hour at most before she’d need to hit the bathroom again. Damn her weak bladder and that grande no foam latte she’d guzzled down less than thirty minutes ago.
Then there was the third option. She could change the tire herself, but to do that she’d have to put down the can of pepper spray, rendering her helpless. Still, it seemed better than to give him access to the jack.
“I’ll change the tire myself.” She carefully placed the pepper spray on the ground next to the flat. It wasn’t ideal, but it was still within reach. Hopefully, she wouldn’t need it.
“Suit yourself.” He lowered the baseball cap over his eyes. “Wake me up when you’re done.”
A snail could have changed that tire faster. Still, Ethan was impressed. The lady had hutzpah. Either that or she was just too stubborn to admit there was no husband on the way and that the closest she’d come to changing a tire before tonight was watching a DIY video on YouTube. She bent down to inspect the lug nuts, then stood and kicked the tire with the foot of her sneaker. Something else she probably saw on TV.
Her previously clean white T-shirt was now streaked with dirt and her brown hair, pulled back in a braid, was the current breeding ground for at least half a dozen pairs of love bugs going at it. Sweat glistened off the back of her toned legs. She was cute. In a feisty kind of way.
“I did it,” she whisper-shouted to herself. She lay down the jack and picked up the can of pepper spray. “You can go now,” she called to him. “I’m all done.”
He roused himself from his feigned sleep. “Everything good?”
“Yep.” She grinned. Nice smile, too. “Thanks for staying and for keeping on your truck lights. I don’t think I would have been able to change the tire without it.”
“My pleasure.”
They stood there looking at one another, neither of them moving.
“Like I said, you can now.”
“Why don’t you go first?” he said. “That way I can make sure the tire is good to go.”
“Doesn’t it look good to go? Really, I insist you go first.”
“I’m not going to follow you if that’s what you’re afraid of.”
“Good to know but nope, not afraid of that at all. I’m heading back to the Interstate now. Yep. Going to get back on I-95 and head into Jacksonville.”
She was a terrible liar, but he didn’t want to call her out on it. There was a little glow of happiness around her, a self-satisfied aura of having achieved something she hadn’t been sure she could tackle. He got it. Changing the tire was a victory for her. He glanced again at the suitcases on the road. The BMW was in good condition, but it was an older model. Where was she going? Moving to a new town? Leaving a husband?
None of his business, really.
“How about we leave at the same time?” he said.
She rolled her eyes. “Sure. Okay.”
He began loading the suitcases back in her trunk.
“You don’t have to do that,” she said.
“I don’t mind, besides, it’s kind of hard for you to do it when you’re holding that can of pepper spray in your hand.”
“I’m not putting it down,” she said stubbornly.
“Didn’t think you were.” He put the blown-out tire in the trunk as well. “Make sure to get this tire fixed as soon as possible. That spare isn’t going to last long. Especially not on the highway.”
He got back in his truck, waited for her to get in her car, then turned over the ignition. The engine sputtered. What the—he tried again and once more got the clicking sound of a dead battery. Ethan could practically hear his grandmother now. No good dead goes unpunished.
Realizing his situation, she got out of her car. “You need a jumpstart?” The corners of her mouth quirked up like she was trying not to laugh.
“I’d appreciate it.”
“Considering you probably killed your battery by keeping the lights on, I owe you that.”
“Does that mean you trust me now?” he asked pointing to the can of pepper spray still in her hand.
“I’ll help you out, but I’m not getting rid of this if that’s what you’re asking. The way I figure, you’re one of three things. You’re either a really inept murderer, or a really brilliant one who’s devised an ingenious way to let my guard down.”
“What’s the third thing?”
“You’re some random nice guy who tried to help me and now you’re stuck.”
“Which one of those do you think I am?”
She opened her mouth to say something, then changed her mind and shook her head. “It doesn’t matter what I think.”
Good girl. He was harmless, but like she said, she had no way of knowing that.
She got back in the car and drove it around so that their engines faced one another. Ethan pulled the jumper cables from his truck cab and charged up his engine. Once he was certain he had enough power, he disconnected the cables then tossed them in the back of the cab. He gave her a thumb
s up. From the safety of her front seat, she gave him a thumbs up back.
They stared at one another through the windshields of their respective vehicles, neither of them making a move to leave yet.
It was like a mental game of chicken.
You first.
No, you go first.
He had a strong feeling they could be here all night. With a grin on his face, he saluted her, then pulled his truck back onto the road and headed home.
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More about Undercover Matchmakers
A fun, warm-hearted, small town romance series about a group of middle aged women determined to marry off the young people in their town. Who needs Tinder when the Undercover Matchmakers are on your side?
UNDERCOVER BACHELOR a prequel novella
FLIRTING FOR AMATEURS, coming February 2021
DATING FOR DUNCES
COURTSHIP FOR NOVICES
ROMANCE FOR BEGINNERS
LOVE FOR STARTERS
MARRIAGE FOR SKEPTICS
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Also by Maria Geraci
Whispering Bay Romance Series
That Thing You Do
Then He Kissed Me
That Man Of Mine
The Best For Last
This Can’t Be Love
Can’t Stop The Feeling
Whispering Bay Mystery Series
Beach Blanket Homicide
Whack The Mole
Murder By Muffin
Stranger Danger
Two Seances and a Funeral
The Great Diamond Caper
About the Author
Maria Geraci writes quirky, fun, romantic women’s fiction and cozy mystery. She’s a two-time RITA® Finalist, as well as a finalist in the National Readers Choice Awards and Romantic Times’ American Title Contest.
Her romantic comedies feature strong women, dreamy heroes, lots of laughs and a little bit of heat. Her cozy mysteries are full of humor, a little romance, and of course, lots of dead bodies. She lives in central Florida and is always on the lookout for the perfect key lime pie recipe (but not the kind they served on Dexter).
Maria loves to hear from her readers! Please write her at [email protected]
