Page 16 of Love on the Line

Chapter 7

Anne packed her lunch,turned off the apartment lights, and headed to her car, taking her time on the steps, as her ankle still ached. Rituals were good. Rituals kept her from thinking about Wyatt and why she’d agreed to meet up with him. Rituals reminded her that he ticked off every block in her “men-I-should-never-date” column.

Handsome check.

Charming check.

Famous double check.

No. Her next date was supposed to be with an average, down-to-earth, reliable man. Someone who didn’t need constant ego stroking. Someone who didn’t draw a crowd wherever he went. She was a conservative, private person on a track to become a principal one day. Her reputation would weigh heavily in the decision of a school to accept her.

Only, when Wyatt had said that stuff about givers and takers, he’d gotten to her. And they’d just met. She was a giver. And it was as hard as hell for her to take anything. Her whole life she’d been the responsible one. Watching out for her sisters, teaching her students. Nothing satisfied her more than helping others.

Add to that the chemistry, or whatever the hell it was that caused her insides to melt around him, and…yeah, she’d said yes to coffee. Big mistake. She still had time to call and cancel. But the way he’d talked about his mother had touched her. Obviously, he cared about and respected his mom. That had to count for something.

A couple miles into the drive to work she groaned at the vibration followed by the flap-flap-flap sound of her tire as rubber smacked against pavement. Crap.

She got out of the car, zipped her coat up, and slightly limped over to the source of her frustration. Stupid flat tire. She itched to kick it with her good foot.

With a sigh, she headed back to the driver’s seat. Once inside, she pulled her phone out and dialed the emergency roadside assistance number she had programmed.

Of course, she got a robo-voice asking for her account number and location. No real person ever manned a phone anymore. The robot informed her someone would be dispatched to her location in one to two hours. Shit. She needed to be at school in twenty minutes. Tension bit into her neck. The rearview mirror reflected nothing but a winding country road for miles.

She had a spare in the trunk, and she could look up how to change one. Couldn’t be that hard. She had a wrench, tire iron, and first aid kit as well. Never hurt to be prepared. Hopefully the first aid kit wouldn’t be necessary. But considering her lack of tire changing skills, she couldn’t rule it out. She called the school office to let them know she’d be late.

As she hauled out the spare tire from the trunk, the smooth thrumming of a car engine caught her ear. The vehicle pulled up behind her and parked. Her heart raced. There wasn’t time to put the tire down and get back into her car. What if it was some pervert or thug? Gripping the tire wrench in her hand, she stood as tall as her five-foot-four frame could muster and assessed the man getting out of a BMW.

He was tall, dark, and dressed in what looked like an expensive suit. The hazard lights on his car flashed as he approached with a friendly smile.

“Need a hand?”

She wasn’t sure what to say. The guy was decked out like he’d stepped off a movie set. Certainly not dressed for changing tires.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yeah. But I have a flat.” Her gaze dashed over his suit. “I called roadside assistance.”

The man shrugged. “Sure, but I bet you’ll be waiting here for a long time. It’ll only take me a couple of minutes to change it.”

“Oh, I couldn’t ask you to—”

“Not a problem.” He slipped off his jacket and rolled up his shirtsleeves. Glancing at the tire wrench in her hand, he said, “I have something better. Be right back.”

He jogged to his car and returned with a bigger wrench and a cloth to kneel on.

After jacking up the car, he removed the lug nuts with quick, efficient twists. The guy wasn’t big in a body builder kind of way, but he moved with strength and control. No doubt he got his share of female attention with his good looks, but he didn’t ignite sparks in her belly like Wyatt did.

He yanked off the flat tire and his long, lean hands deftly replaced it with the spare. With a final twist, he tightened the nuts, then stood and tossed the flat tire into the trunk, thumping it shut.

“You should be good to go. Don’t drive too long or fast on that little donut spare.”

“Thanks so much. I really appreciate it.” She wanted to offer to pay him, but he didn’t look like he needed money and might get insulted. She held out her hand to shake. “I’m Anne, by the way.”

Her gaze went to his hands, which were dirty from handling the tire. He picked up the rag he’d brought and wiped them. “Devon. Nice to meet you, even under such unfortunate circumstances.”

They shook hands and he squeezed hers, holding it for a second, then let go and walked back to his car. With a quick wave, he pulled away and left her staring into the taillights of his BMW.

She shook her head. What was such a city slicker doing way out in the country?

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