Page 2 of Sweet Surprises

She went to pop the hood, but he made a clucking sound at her.

“I’ve got it,” he said cheerfully.

But before he could get started, the telephone in the shop began ringing, a jangling that sounded like her grandparents’ old-fashioned landline.

“Back in a jiffy,” he assured her. “The missus frets if I don’t pick up.”

“No worries,” she replied.

As soon as he disappeared inside, she grabbed her funnel and rag from the plastic bag she kept in the trunk and got to work adding oil herself like she normally did. Thankfully, it didn’t need much. She was just about done when she heard the sound of another car pulling into the lot. When a car door slammed behind her, she looked up so fast that she bumped her head on the inside of the hood.

“You okay?” a deep voice asked.

“I’m fine,” she said quickly, ducking out this time to look up, and up, and up at the man talking to her.

He was like a handsome lumberjack from the cover of one of her mother’s old Harlequin novels. She couldn’t help picturing him leaping out of a book and into this gas station parking lot, ready to sweep some lucky woman off her feet.

“You would think I’d remember the hood,” she babbled, desperately, trying not to let herself stare. But she couldn’t help cataloging his broad shoulders and big biceps bulging against his plaid flannel. His hair was so dark it was almost black, and just barely brushed the collar of his shirt. She had a ridiculous urge to reach out and run her fingers through it, just to see if it was as soft as it looked. “I’ve had to put oil in so many times on my way here…”

“Car shouldn’t need that much oil,” he said suddenly, his piercing blue eyes squinting at the Mustang, as if the car had somehow offended him with its thirst.

The thought made her realize how dry her throat suddenly felt, and she swallowed hard, unable to take her eyes off his scowling face. When his crystal-blue gaze finally slid from the car to Charlotte, their eyes met, and she felt something pass between them like an unspoken secret.

The world seemed to fade away at the edges and anticipation tingled on the surface of her skin—like the breathless moment before lightning strikes. She suddenly felt alive and alert, as if she had been sleeping before, but just hadn’t realized.

“I-I’ll park it for a while when I get where I’m going,” she said, quickly tearing her eyes from his and wondering what on earth was happening to her. Maybe it was all that caffeine she’d consumed while trying to avoid fatigue on the drive. “I just need to save up for an oil pan gasket, and then I’ll order one online. Thankfully, you can get them easily, even for a car this old.”

He nodded once and turned away, pulling something out of his pocket as he stepped back over to his pickup truck.

She watched, transfixed, as he flicked open a pocketknife and crouched to work a small rock out of his tire. After a few seconds, it hit the gravel with a satisfying ping.

The big, grumpy man straightened up, flicked the knife shut, shoved it back in his pocket, and hopped into the cab of his truck without sparing her another glance. The engine roared as he took off a little too fast back onto the road, kicking up gravel in his wake.

She stood there for a second, watching after the black pickup and wondering what had just happened.

“Aw, ya did it yourself,” the old man called out as he strode back to her from the shop. “You’re a handy one.”

“Thanks,” she said, shaking off the odd encounter she’d just had. “Do you have a couple more of these? I should take some along.”

Sure enough, he was able to sell her two more bottles. As he rang her up, she tried not to think about the fact that every bottle she bought put her a little farther from buying the part she needed so she could stop buying oil.

One step forward, two steps back,her dad used to say when Charlotte found herself in a situation like this—like thetime she joined the girls’ soccer team in high school, hoping that participating in a sport might help her get into college. She had immediately broken her ankle and benched herself for the entire season. The broken ankle also prevented her from doing the volunteer work at the local shelter that she loved and had been doing for years, leaving her college application even more lacking.

But things always worked out eventually. She had still gotten into college, even with the setbacks. And sooner or later, she would get that oil pan gasket and she wouldn’t have to buy oil all the time.

And in the meantime, she was excited for the chance to help turn around Allie’s family’s ice cream shop.

The difference between pessimism and optimism is patience,she told herself firmly.And I’ve got nothing but time.

She got back into the Mustang and the engine started with the mighty growl that always made her smile, and she realized she felt good down to her toes.

It has nothing to do with that grumpy hunk, she decided. Though if that was the way the men around here were built, it was going to be harder than she’d expected to keep her promise to focus on herself.

She pulled back onto the road and fixed her mind on Allie Lawrence, the best friend she’d ever had. Whatever else waited for her in Sugarville Grove, Allie would be there. And that meant everything was going to be just fine.

Before long, Charlotte started spotting houses between the trees. She got excited when she passed a little corner store, where a group of older men stood talking, bundled up in big coats, their colorful scarves dancing in the wind.

When she passed the elementary school where Allie worked she knew she was close, and sure enough, the Sugarville Grove village square began a block later.

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