Page 8 of Mechanic's Charming Bride

It’s a lame excuse but it’s honestly the only one I’ve got.

There’s a pause on the other end of the line. “You need me to come get you? Where are you?”

What a good question. I have no idea!

“No, no. I’m okay. I appreciate it, though. I’ll call you when I get all settled in. I promise it won’t be gone for long.”

“You want me to tell Frankie?”

“Absolutely not.” My automatic response has me wincing instantly.

He seems to thankfully understand what I’m getting at, though, or at least pretends to, because he doesn’t ask me anything further. He just wishes me to keep safe and then has me promise to call soon before hanging up.

Breathing out slowly, I let my phone drop back into my lap, relieved when the truck finally pulls into a mechanic shop.

Abadaire Automotive, it reads.

Mt. Hottie pulls around the back to a large garage and parks.

Just as he’s turning towards me to say something, I blurt out, “Sorry about that.”

He looks sympathetic. “It’s not a problem. I’m going to get this inside if you want to meet me in there.”

I nod and pop open my door, feeling my face flush with embarrassment. Could I be any more of a fucking weirdo? Honestly, this man probably thinks I’m clinically insane and should’ve been brought to a hospital and not back to his business.

I should at least apologize again when I get inside. Oh, and give him a big fat tip when he’s got my car all fixed up.

Just as I’m about to crank the door shut, I turn back in and ask, “Hey, what’s your name?”

He blinks in surprise, and then says, “Nate. You?”

I grin. “Sam. Thanks again for rescuing me.”

Chapter Five

Nate

Damn, I’ve got it bad.

While I pull in a few self-calming breaths, I watch Sam jog to the front door of my shop—impressive with the dress and the kind of heels she’s rocking—and disappear inside.

While I hadn’t been trying to eavesdrop, the call with her dad certainly brought up more questions for me. Like, why did she not want to return to her own wedding? Why did she run away in the first place? Why didn’t she want to tell her dad what’s going on?

I suspect that last part is due to me being around, so that might be the answer in itself. But regardless, it has me kind of worried.

Is she running from something? It seems like it. Why else would she be out in the middle of nowhere, heading in the complete opposite direction of her friends and family?

Whatever it is, I hope she’s safe.

My hands tighten around my steering wheel.

If not, I’ll keep her safe.

The thought startles me. Jesus, where did that come from? I barely know this girl and I already want to go to war for her. I need to get it together—or better yet, get a fucking grip.

By the time I get her car into the garage and hooked up to my diagnostic tool, it becomes evident that she’s got a lot more problems than I originally thought. Not only is her engine pretty much wrecked, but she’s got all sorts of codes popping up that range from needing a fuse to her back passenger window needing the motor replaced.

Now to break the news…

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