Page 1 of Falling for the Mechanic

Chelsea

As I drive down a desolate stretch of road, I’m struck almost speechless by the vibrant colors of the leaves and the natural beauty that surrounds me. Compared to where I’m coming from, a place like this could be right out of someone’s dream.

Just not mine.

Seeing the welcoming sign to this small town, something twists in my gut. Even though it’s only been a handful of years since I’ve been away from Willowbrook Ridge, I never get used to coming back. It’s like I’m constantly getting this urge to do a U-turn and leave again.

I really hate visiting.

Stopping by a handful of times a year really shouldn’t be too hard.

Nowadays, I only come when there’s a celebration in order.

This time around, my parents want to get together to celebrate their marriage. What they have planned, I can only imagine. Probably something spooky since their anniversary sits on Halloween.

Despite the hot air coming from the vents, the reminder sends a shiver up my spine just thinking about it.

“You’re going to survive this, Chelsea. You do it every single time.” Talking myself through my discomfort, I reach over for the knobs to turn the heat up higher.

It’s so freaking cold here.

For just a moment, my eyes wander off the road as I switch to a different vent for the air. Just as I return my gaze to the long stretch of nothing, my next breath catches in the back of my throat.

Almost like it comes out of nowhere, there’s a hole in the road too big to call a pothole. Before I can even think to swerve out of the way, I run right over it.

There’s a loud bang and a repetitive thud, and it doesn’t take a genius to know I’ve messed up.

Hitting my hazards and slowing to a stop, I breathe in deep to keep myself calm.

Whispering words of encouragement to myself and struggling to believe them, I inhale sharply before I shove open the door and step out.

Everything is going to be just fine.

Taking one look at the back of my car, I can easily see that everything isn’t okay at all. In fact, the flat tire staring back is making me scream internally.

Shoot. Shoot. I kick a loose pebble in hopes it’ll make me feel better, but it doesn’t.

Burying my fingers in my hair, I swallow the urge to growl.

Nothing good comes from this town. Despite swearing by it, no one believes me. Well, now I have proof. Five minutes inside, and I’m already screwed.

Returning to the car, I grab my phone from my purse and grimace when I see the two missed calls from my mother. If I have to guess, she’ll want me to pick up something she needs at the last minute. Swiping away the notification, I search for what to do.

There’s no spare in my car, not that it matters. I don’t know how to change a tire. Dad made sure to teach Finn those sorts of life lessons, but he’d scoff at the idea of me stepping inside the garage to learn.

My phone immediately suggests Steel Haven Auto. From the looks of it, there’s literally no other shops. The closest towing company is an hour and a half away. I can only imagine who they’ll send if I get my insurance involved.

I really don’t have time for this.

Putting the phone to my ear, I listen to it ring over and over, until my heart is picking up a little.

What if no one picks up? What if I’m stuck out here? Ugh, what if I have to call my parents to break the news?

Then, without warning, I hear music. The kind that screams alongside the clashing of drums and the notes of an electric guitar. I jerk, momentarily forgetting what to say. I miss the whole introduction at the start of the call before there’s a grunt.

“Steel Haven Auto. Hello?” A deep voice welcomes me, and I clear my throat before the man assumes no one is there on the other side.

“Um, hi.” I twist around and lean against my car. Pinching my sweater for distraction, I gaze at a few dead leaves that catch even the lightest breeze. “I was calling to see if you could help me out.”

I tell him about the tire and about the hole. He scoffs when I mention I don’t have a spare, and I bite my tongue at that.

“Can’t guarantee I can replace it today, but I can make room for a tire change. If you can get it here—”

“Actually, there isn’t any chance you tow vehicles, is there?” My heart skips a beat, and in the silence on the other end, I catch the fadeout of one song and the start of another. “I couldn’t find any companies online. I just…don’t really have the time to wait for one outside of town.”

Ugh. I sound stuck up. But if he knew what I was heading toward, he’d understand. I feel silly for asking, but hey, it can’t hurt, right?

I count three more seconds of silence before finally, I hear the music stop completely.

“Where are you?” The question is simple, but the answer doesn’t come immediately.

“Uh.” I look around, taking in the wooden posts lining up one side of the road, kept together with metal barbed wire. Unwelcoming. On the other side, some trees have bare branches, and others have reddened leaves clinging on for dear life. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know ?” I hear the clank of a tool, probably dropped in agitation by this dude’s tone. “Can you give me something? Not a fan of guessing games.”

I bite my tongue to stop myself from telling him that he sounds like he’s not a fan of anything.

Looking behind me, I squint. “I passed one of the town’s welcome signs.

Oh, I think I’m passing what looks like a ranch.

” Closing my eyes, I try to remember the sign that was a blur.

At the time, I didn’t think to pay too close attention.

“Uh, something thorn. Had a gated entrance. Super unwelcoming now that I think about it.”

Without realizing it, I start rambling.

“Blackthorne Ranch?”

Just his saying the name helps clear the fog. I nod despite him not being able to see. “Yeah, that’s the one.”

There’s a sigh on the other side of the phone. Deep and annoyed. Like I’m asking him to give me his first newborn or something.

I’m already regretting the call, but what can I do when my options are so limited?

Do I tell him I’ll pay whatever it takes to get back on the road? No offense to Willowbrook Ridge, but I’m already disliking just how bare it is. To think I haven’t even hit the heart of it all.

“Give me forty minutes.” A simple order. He makes it seem easy as can be.

“What am I supposed to do for that long?” I huff, finally matching his tone. “I have a place to be.”

I’m going to get such an earful, I can already imagine how the conversation will go once I reach my parent’s home. Dread already starts bubbling in my stomach.

“Not my problem.” There’s a pause. “Stay in your car. The owner of that place is an asshole.” His words are gruff and final, and just like that, the line has gone dead. Silence welcomes me as realization hits that I’ve been hung up on.

I’d be more angry if he hadn’t left our conversation with what seems like a warning.

Eyeing those barbed wires once more, I grimace at the reminder that I’m now kind of feeling like a mouse waiting in a trap. Before I let myself think too deeply about the unknown, I slip back in my car and lock the doors for a safe measure.

Clutching my phone, I hesitate before shooting a message to Finn. He can break the news to Mom. I’ve done enough for him during our youthful years to take an earful in like a champ by updating our parents.

Sighing softly under my breath, I lean back and close my eyes.

Maybe this flat tire isn’t an entirely bad thing. Taking off work to come here, I should see this time away from the city as a mini-vacation.

At the moment, I feel like I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place. Right now, I’m surrounded by an unexpected calm that’s the most soothing thing I’ve heard in a long time.

Forty minutes sounds like a lifetime; however, I don’t realize I’m dozing off until there’s a sound of something approaching from behind.

As I crack my eyes open, a glance in the rearview mirrors tells me I’m no longer alone. Still a bit disoriented from my short nap, I forget where I am for a moment.

It’s embarrassing how long it takes everything to come back to me. Sitting a little straighter, I take in the side of the truck, a little relieved to see the Steel Haven Auto logo printed as it slowly passes.

My rescuer is here.

I blink at the brake lights as the truck pulls in front of me. It has all the parts and pieces to tow my car, but it has a rustic look that shows its age.

Can this thing actually lift my car without a piece or two falling off in the process?

As the driver’s door swings open and a man steps out, my mind is momentarily taken off my car. I’m suddenly focused on a set of broad shoulders and wavy, sandy brown colored hair. The stern look in his eyes as he glances my way gives me a gut feeling that this is the man I spoke to on the phone.

The beard on his face hardly hides his frown as he looks at my vehicle. There’s something in his eyes that extends past annoyance. So, why is my skin prickling up like this?

I’m not used to men like this. Sure, I work with some pretty good-looking guys, but none are this… wild looking.

Like someone who doesn’t care what anyone thinks of them.

Unlike the usual suit-types I’m used to, this guy looks like he was up to his arms in an engine before we spoke. If it weren’t for my cry for help, he’d still be there working.

Before he reaches my car, I’m shoving the door open and stumbling out. They say a car mirrors the owner, and boy, if that saying isn’t true. I almost break an ankle just trying to get out.

He comes to a stop right at my door just as I find myself clutching at the top of it. For a few seconds, it feels like everything just… stops.

The world stops spinning. Time stops ticking.

We just stare at each other. His expression doesn’t change, not really. His frown looks like it’s grown a little at most. But me? Oh boy, my face feels hot.

Parting my lips, I try to speak, but my brain is feeling a little fuzzy. Knowing there’s one thing he’ll want to hear, I try anyway. I stumble on my words, leaving me feeling mortified as the two words slip out. “Thank you.”

He hung up on me before I could share my gratitude.

My words seem to break him out of his trance. He grunts, and I can’t tell what kind of reply that is, but it doesn’t matter. He’s moving to look at my flat tire. Kneeling down, he reaches out to touch the rubber like he’s having some kind of conversation with it. Maybe he’s a car whisperer.

“I hit a hole.” Catching myself staring at his stained fingers, I note that the color reaches up all the way to his wrist. “I’m surprised no one has gotten a flat already.”

“People tend to avoid holes, not hit them.” He stands again and looks back. “I saw it. One hell of a hole. Don’t know how you hit it dead on.”

Talk about pouring salt on a wound. Telling him the truth, that my attention wasn’t on the road, will only add more insults.

Biting the inside of my cheek, I watch as he pulls out his phone, typing away a message. Is he telling someone else that he’s met the world’s worst driver?

“I’ve filed a report. Should be fixed in no time.” He explains himself as if he can read my thoughts. Or, he can feel the weight of my stare. “It’ll take me a few minutes to get you hooked up. I’d advise stepping away.”

Nodding, I figure stepping on the other side of the road will be enough to satisfy him. I mean, that’s pretty far away. However, the moment I step toward those unwelcoming wooden posts, arms crossed to keep warm, he sighs under his breath again.

He’s a fan of making that noise. Not sure if he’s aware.

“Wait in the truck. The heater is on.” The order comes firmer. “Don’t…touch anything.”

The way he says it, it’s like he thinks I have sticky fingers.

Pursing my lips, I make sure to thank him with a little sarcasm on the side before I’m stepping a little too heavily toward his junker of a vehicle.

Little does he know, I’m going to touch everything .