Page 94 of False Start

I checked the transmission fluid. Completely empty.

I groaned. “Okay, it’s not that bad.”

Trent perked but didn’t approach. “So, we refill it?”

I shook my head. “It’ll just dump out again. It needs a steady supply to keep running.”

I ran my mind over the hundreds of hours I’d spent working on the car. The videos, the manuals, the parts. The overheated transmission was too hot to touch, but I craned my head inside the hood, spotting the hairline break running down the side. “It’s cracked.”

Trent sank down to the toolbox, pulling out supplies. “Duct tape? Could we duct tape it?”

I shook my head. “The transmission is a closed system, and with the temperature fluctuations, I don’t think duct tape would keep the fluid in. It might help, but we’d still need a way to feed it transmission fluid as we’re driving.”

“So, we’re screwed?” Trent asked softly. “Want me to call a tow truck?”

A “yes” lodged in my throat as my eyes locked onto the windshield fluid cap.

I’d meant to fill it before the start of the race but forgot. My fingers fumbled with the cap, opening it up and confirming it was empty. “Actually, I have an idea.”

Trent surged to my side.

“It might not work,” I said, the barest bones of a plan coming together in my head. “But I think I can move the windshield washer hose from the wipers to the transmission. We’ll wrap the crack as best we can and use the windshield wiper fluid pump to inject the transmission fluid while we drive.”

“And that will work?”

I shrugged, wiping my hands off on my jeans. “Maybe. It’s not like I’ve done this before, but it’s not like we’ll make it any worse.”

Trent nodded, the smile on his face euphoric, infusing me with confidence. “You’re a genius.”

“We haven’t actually done anything yet.”

He shook his head, placing his hands on my shoulders. “You’re amazing.”

My face heated even before he bent down and kissed me.

I sucked in a breath, waiting for him to pull away. Instead, his fingers curled in my hair, hand cupping my cheek and pulling me closer. His lips skated over mine, warm and inviting and utterly irresistible.

The kiss shouldn’t be happening. By tomorrow, we’d be back in Norwalk, back to our lives, back to having no reason to see each other or be around each other.

I gave into the kiss, anyway. Just for now. For maybe the last time. Because Trent Vogt was a flirt and an opportunist and a surprisingly fun person to be around, and by this time tomorrow, my life would go back to normal.

“Alright.” I pressed my palms against his chest, breaking the kiss. “Let’s see if we can fix this.”

Trent recorded while I fumbled through my plan. At the end of the day, a car wasn’t much different from a lab instrument. They were both electronics and pumps and lines. The windshield washer line was surprisingly easy to dismantle, and thanks to the tiny toolbox I’d stashed in the back seat, I had the parts to secure the line to the transmission fluid cap.

I used the entire roll of duct tape to cover the crack, and then some electrical tape for good measure. As the last of the transmission fluid disappeared into the car, I crossed my fingers.

Trent pressed the button for windshield wiper fluid. The tiny motor kicked on and I watched the tubing release a slow trickle of transmission fluid.

“It’s working,” I said, feigning confidence and slapping a piece of duct tape over the line. “Now we just need to figure out how often we need to press that button.”

The answer was a lot. Despite the duct tape, the transmission fluid leak behind us was noticeable. We pumped in a near-constant flow, and by the time we spotted signs for the car show, my thumb ached from depressing the button while I drove.

The Cougar shuddered its way past the picturesque main street with a sign that welcomed us to Nowhere, Florida. Pristine antique cars flanked the shuddering, shimmying Cougar as it ground its way past the packed sidewalk of onlookers to the parking lot just behind a bookstore marked for the rally.

4:57.

We made it with three minutes to spare. Trent smiled, clapping his hand on my shoulder with a wide grin. “We did it.”

---