Page 4

SAWYER

“What can I do ya for, Miss?”

A deep, gentle Georgia accent greets me as I slide out of my car, an older gentleman in coveralls appearing from the mechanics’ bay, wiping his hands with a well-used rag.

Everything about him screams good ol’ boy, from his smile down to his boots, and a trustworthiness radiates off him, immediately putting me at ease.

A noble mechanic indeed.

“Err, umm, my AC is out.”

“Rough day for that.” He gives me a gentle once-over, appraising me in a way that reminds me of a dad checking over their kid to make sure they’re safe. “And by the looks of you, you’ve been roasting in there for a while.”

I nod, shoulders slumping as I twist my hair back and wipe the sweat from my neck. “Since just south of Macon. I would have stopped sooner, but my GPS sent me on a back road adventure trying to avoid a backup on the interstate and…”

I trail off. This man doesn’t need to know my life story. He nods understandingly nonetheless, not looking the least put out by my rambling.

“One sec,” he says, disappearing back off to the side, into what looks like a little office. He reappears in the blink of an eye, an even bigger smile spreading across his face, and holds up quite possibly the most valued asset in the world at the moment. A hair tie. “Here.”

Holy shit…I think I could kiss him…

“Th-thank you,” I sputter, so taken aback that a man his age, with clearly zero use for them, has a hair tie lying around. Although I’m not going to question it. Nope. Just say a little thank you to the universe.

“I’ve got two daughters; those darn things are everywhere. They’re both grown and married, but I still seem to be finding them everywhere I turn,” he says with a laugh.

I owe his daughters a thank you too.

“So, the AC. How long do you think it will take to fix?” I ask sheepishly.

I might not be on a schedule, but that doesn’t mean that I want to be without my car for days, or worse, weeks on end either. I have to be at the Hayes Ag lab on Monday morning.

“Depends.” He nods again, turning to the car to give her a once-over.

His visual inspection of her is a lot more scrutinizing than the one he gave me, his lips pursed to one side as he lifts the hood.

“If all you need is a recharge, then thirty minutes? Hour at most. But if it requires an actual fix…you’re looking at maybe a day or two? ”

“Oh.”

A day or two. Well…shit.

Okay, that’s not that bad. It won’t be weeks.

Granted, I don’t have any idea where the motel that I’m booked at, the Ramblers’ Rest, is compared to here.

I assume that I’ll need my car to get there.

And I’ll certainly need it to get to Hayes.

I also highly doubt ride share is a thing here.

Nor are taxis. Which means I’ll be hoofing it to at least the motel.

But, if it’s only a day or two, then maybe I can email Cary and see if being there on Tuesday would be a deal-breaker.

Yeah, that’s what I’ll do.

Assuming that’s what it is. This gentleman hasn’t confirmed that. It could be the hour-long option.

Dear universe, please let it be the hour-long option…

“How soon until you know?” I ask.

He doesn’t look up from whatever he’s fiddling with under the hood, so I let my question hang in the air, like a balloon that doesn’t know if it should fly away into the forever or drop to the ground from a heavy weight.

The long stretch of quiet is marked with dings and clanks as he continues to twist and turn things about.

The longer he goes without responding, the more uneasy I grow.

This doesn’t seem like it’s going to be the hour-long option.

After what feels like forever, he looks up. I don’t like his expression though.

“Good news, I’m not seeing a leak. But I’m not convinced that it’s a simple recharge. I’m gonna need a bit with it to give her a proper diagnosis.”

Well, that’s not bad news. Yet.

“That’s fine. Do you have a waiting room I can hang out in? I’ve got my laptop so I can just work while I wait.”

“I don’t. Besides, my dear, if you don’t mind my sayin’, you look like what you really need is a cold drink and something to eat.”

Spoken like a true dad, his words hit me hard. Because yes, I absolutely do need both of those things. Breakfast was hours ago at this point, and stupid me didn’t grab a water bottle as I was running out the door because “it’s only a couple hour drive.”

Ha. Serves me right .

“That would be nice, but?—”

“No buts, Miss… I’m sorry, I didn’t introduce myself, did I? Ken Noble at your service.” He holds out his hand to shake, then pulls back quickly, realizing it is greasy again.

I giggle silently, already starting to fall in love with the man who is clearly the town dad.

“Sawyer Brown.”

“Well, Miss Sawyer, we should get you over to Dolly’s. It’s just round the corner, and she’ll get you all fixed up. Plus, rumor has it that Miss Belle is over there today, which means the best sweet tea in Georgia is bein’ served.”

This is the second time I have heard about this tea. Can it really be that good ?

I mean, I’m a Southerner, so I know that sweet tea is serious business. And one does not argue with a Southern woman about her tea. But for two different strangers to brag on this tea, it must really be something.

Sweet tea also sounds heaven-sent.

A few minutes later, I’m climbing out of Ken Noble’s bright red pickup in front of Dolly’s, which looks exactly as the fruit-stand guy described it—a little country store with an old-fashioned Coke sign.

Actually, it’s not all that little. The facade might be, but the building is clearly deeper than it is wide and it appears to have been here for a long, long time.

Dolly’s is scribbled across the door in a script that looks brand-new, right above a piece of paper showing off the A health rating.

Well, that’s a good sign…

Ken opens the door, holding it for me to walk in first, a glorious whoosh of cold air hitting like a linebacker tackling the quarterback on fourth down. I pause, relishing the goose bumps that race up my skin, sending a harsh shiver down my spine from the temperature differential.

“Hey y’all! Be right with you!” a bubbly voice greets .

“It’s just me,” Ken announces. “And I’m not staying. Just dropping off Miss Sawyer here to wait while I fix her car.”

“Ken!”

My head whips around, eyes landing on the most graceful-looking woman I’ve ever seen, sitting at the counter.

Tall, lean, with blonde hair that reminds you of the color of summer, she looks like she belongs on a catwalk.

Everything about her is impeccable—hair, makeup, sundress, all of it.

I’ve never seen a more put-together human being in my life.

And I look like a sewer rat who drowned in their own sweat.

“I heard you were over here today, Belle. Does that mean there’s tea?” Ken waggles his eyebrows, as if it were some secret code, making her titter.

She pushes up from her seat, taking three long, graceful steps toward us, closing the gap. It’s so effortless, she almost looks like she’s floating.

“You think we made some up and weren’t going to bring you a glass? Ken Noble, it’s like you don’t know me.”

For a second I think they’re flirting, then I see it. The very large diamond ring on Miss Belle’s left hand. Then again, I suppose that doesn’t mean they aren’t flirting…

“Miss Belle, this is Sawyer.” He ushers me farther into the diner, and a few of the other patrons look up from their meals to gaze at us.

“Her AC went out, so I need to get back so I can get to fixin’ it.

Sawyer, this is Miss Belle, and she and her almost daughter-in-law, Dolly, will make sure you’re taken care of. If not, she’ll have me to answer to.”

The smile falls from Miss Belle’s face, one eyebrow quirking upward, in a look that could stop traffic. One that delivers the message loud and clear—she cannot believe he just said that.

“You do not scare me, Ken Noble,” she says, her voice still even and composed. Clearly an old school Southern belle, and not about to take shit from anyone.

Ken simply shrugs, giving up. “I tried.”

“Here you go!” An energetic blonde with blue eyes rounds a corner, presumably out of the kitchen, with a large jug of tea and a to-go box.

She walks over to us and hands them to Ken, kissing him on the cheek.

“One jug of tea, plus a BLT.” She looks around and then lowers her voice slightly, as if to not sound conspicuous, adding “with real bacon.”

“You sure do know the way to a man’s heart, Dolly.”

I smile, turning away slightly so that they don’t think I’m staring.

But, I can’t help it. My heart warms, loving how at home this place feels, and I’ve only been here for two minutes.

However, in that two minutes, I’ve seen small-town goodness come to life—the things that make people want to live in a place like this, with a diner like this one, surrounded by people like Ken.

It reminds me of home.

“Sawyer, right?” the bright-eyed blonde asks. I nod, opening my mouth to introduce myself, but she cuts me off. “I’m Dolly. You’ve met Miss Belle. Come sit. Let’s get you something to drink; you look like you walked here.”

“I feel like it,” I reply, following her over to the counter and crashing down onto a stool. “My AC went out on my way down from Atlanta, and it was a long drive without it.”

“Ew.” Dolly scrunches her face. “Tea? Water? Soda?”

“Tea, please.”

She nods, grabbing a glass and filling it with ice before pouring the rich, honey-brown liquid over it. My mouth waters as I watch, my thirst starting to take over.

“So, what brings you to Hickory Hills?” Miss Belle asks, rearranging a set of paint chips she’d spread out on the counter.

“As much as I love Ken, and I do—his late wife was one of my best friends and he and my husband are still like teenagers sometimes—I cannot imagine it’s his legendary mechanic skills that brought you to our map dot. ”