Page 2
In my mind, I'd pictured someone older, maybe with a beer belly and grease-stained overalls—the small-town mechanic stereotype. But this man...
He's tall, at least six-foot-two, with broad shoulders that taper to a trim waist. He's wearing a simple black t-shirt that stretches across his chest and faded jeans. His face is all angles—sharp cheekbones, a strong jaw dusted with a rugged beard. But it's his eyes that catch me off guard when he approachesmy window. They're amber, almost golden in the late afternoon light, startling against his tanned skin.
He doesn't smile as he gestures for me to roll down my window. I comply, feeling suddenly self-conscious about my appearance, my broken-down car, my entire existence.
"Lucy Mitchell?" he asks, his voice deep and resonant, just as abrupt in person as it was on the phone.
"That's me," I say, attempting a smile that feels wobbly. "You must be Carter, right? Thanks for coming to my rescue."
“Yes. Riley Carter.” He doesn't acknowledge my gratitude, just looks past me at my car's interior, his gaze cataloging the packed backseat. "Just moved here?" It's not really a question.
"Yeah, today actually. Well, trying to, at least." I laugh nervously. "Not the grand entrance I was hoping for."
His expression doesn't change. "Pop the hood."
I fumble for the lever, feeling like I'm failing some test I didn't know I was taking. The hood releases with a metallic click, and Riley moves to the front of the car without another word.
I exit the car, stretching my cramped legs. Standing, I'm even more aware of how tall he is and how he seems to take up all the available space. I watch as he leans over my engine, the muscles in his forearms flexing as he checks something. I force myself to look away.
"What do you think it is?" I ask, trying to fill the silence. "The car was fine this morning. I had it checked before I left Phoenix, and—"
"Alternator," he interrupts, straightening up. "Dead. You'll need a new one."
"Oh." I bite my lip, my mind immediately going to cost. "Is that... expensive?"
Something flickers across his face—annoyance? Pity? It's gone too quickly to tell. "Parts and labor, around $500."
I try not to visibly wince. That's a decent chunk of my savings, money I was counting on to get settled. "How long will it take to fix?"
"Depends if I have the part. Need to get it to the shop first." He moves back to the tow truck, all business. "Get what you need for the night. Car won't be ready before tomorrow at the earliest."
I nod, then scramble to gather my overnight bag, purse, and laptop from the passenger seat. Riley works quickly, hooking up my car to the tow truck with ease. I hover awkwardly, not sure if I should offer to help or stay out of his way.
"Um, where exactly is your shop?" I ask. "And is there somewhere nearby I could stay tonight? I was supposed to pick up my rental cottage key from the landlord, but—"
"Shop's in town. Mile down this road, left at the first light." He secures the final chain, then looks at me directly for the first time. "There's a motel across the street. Nothing fancy, but it's clean."
I nod again, clutching my bag to my chest like a shield. "And I can just... ride with you? To the shop?"
Riley glances at my luggage, then at the packed car now hitched to his truck. Understanding dawns in those amber eyes. "Everything you own in there?"
"Pretty much," I admit, feeling vulnerable under his scrutiny.
He doesn't comment, just opens the passenger door of the tow truck and steps back, waiting. I climb in, my cheeks burning with embarrassment. The cab smells like coffee and motor oil, with afaint hint of something woodsy—cologne or soap, maybe. It's not unpleasant.
Riley slides into the driver's seat. The engine rumbles to life, and we pull onto the road, my car trailing behind us like a reluctant child.
As we cross the town line, I feel a strange mix of dread and anticipation. Welcome to Cedar Falls, I think. So much for fresh starts.
Chapter 2 - Riley
I don't like surprises. Not since Afghanistan. Not since coming home to find everything changed. And this woman sitting in my truck cab right now? Definitely a surprise.
Lucy Mitchell. Even her name sounds soft. She sits with her hands folded in her lap, staring out the window like she's memorizing every tree we pass. I keep my eyes on the road, but I'm aware of her—the way she smells like vanilla and something citrusy, how she keeps tucking her dark hair behind her ear when it falls forward.
"So..." she starts, clearly uncomfortable with the silence. "Have you lived in Cedar Falls long?"
Small talk. Great.
He's tall, at least six-foot-two, with broad shoulders that taper to a trim waist. He's wearing a simple black t-shirt that stretches across his chest and faded jeans. His face is all angles—sharp cheekbones, a strong jaw dusted with a rugged beard. But it's his eyes that catch me off guard when he approachesmy window. They're amber, almost golden in the late afternoon light, startling against his tanned skin.
He doesn't smile as he gestures for me to roll down my window. I comply, feeling suddenly self-conscious about my appearance, my broken-down car, my entire existence.
"Lucy Mitchell?" he asks, his voice deep and resonant, just as abrupt in person as it was on the phone.
"That's me," I say, attempting a smile that feels wobbly. "You must be Carter, right? Thanks for coming to my rescue."
“Yes. Riley Carter.” He doesn't acknowledge my gratitude, just looks past me at my car's interior, his gaze cataloging the packed backseat. "Just moved here?" It's not really a question.
"Yeah, today actually. Well, trying to, at least." I laugh nervously. "Not the grand entrance I was hoping for."
His expression doesn't change. "Pop the hood."
I fumble for the lever, feeling like I'm failing some test I didn't know I was taking. The hood releases with a metallic click, and Riley moves to the front of the car without another word.
I exit the car, stretching my cramped legs. Standing, I'm even more aware of how tall he is and how he seems to take up all the available space. I watch as he leans over my engine, the muscles in his forearms flexing as he checks something. I force myself to look away.
"What do you think it is?" I ask, trying to fill the silence. "The car was fine this morning. I had it checked before I left Phoenix, and—"
"Alternator," he interrupts, straightening up. "Dead. You'll need a new one."
"Oh." I bite my lip, my mind immediately going to cost. "Is that... expensive?"
Something flickers across his face—annoyance? Pity? It's gone too quickly to tell. "Parts and labor, around $500."
I try not to visibly wince. That's a decent chunk of my savings, money I was counting on to get settled. "How long will it take to fix?"
"Depends if I have the part. Need to get it to the shop first." He moves back to the tow truck, all business. "Get what you need for the night. Car won't be ready before tomorrow at the earliest."
I nod, then scramble to gather my overnight bag, purse, and laptop from the passenger seat. Riley works quickly, hooking up my car to the tow truck with ease. I hover awkwardly, not sure if I should offer to help or stay out of his way.
"Um, where exactly is your shop?" I ask. "And is there somewhere nearby I could stay tonight? I was supposed to pick up my rental cottage key from the landlord, but—"
"Shop's in town. Mile down this road, left at the first light." He secures the final chain, then looks at me directly for the first time. "There's a motel across the street. Nothing fancy, but it's clean."
I nod again, clutching my bag to my chest like a shield. "And I can just... ride with you? To the shop?"
Riley glances at my luggage, then at the packed car now hitched to his truck. Understanding dawns in those amber eyes. "Everything you own in there?"
"Pretty much," I admit, feeling vulnerable under his scrutiny.
He doesn't comment, just opens the passenger door of the tow truck and steps back, waiting. I climb in, my cheeks burning with embarrassment. The cab smells like coffee and motor oil, with afaint hint of something woodsy—cologne or soap, maybe. It's not unpleasant.
Riley slides into the driver's seat. The engine rumbles to life, and we pull onto the road, my car trailing behind us like a reluctant child.
As we cross the town line, I feel a strange mix of dread and anticipation. Welcome to Cedar Falls, I think. So much for fresh starts.
Chapter 2 - Riley
I don't like surprises. Not since Afghanistan. Not since coming home to find everything changed. And this woman sitting in my truck cab right now? Definitely a surprise.
Lucy Mitchell. Even her name sounds soft. She sits with her hands folded in her lap, staring out the window like she's memorizing every tree we pass. I keep my eyes on the road, but I'm aware of her—the way she smells like vanilla and something citrusy, how she keeps tucking her dark hair behind her ear when it falls forward.
"So..." she starts, clearly uncomfortable with the silence. "Have you lived in Cedar Falls long?"
Small talk. Great.