Page 90 of The Tropical Romance Test

“ ‘The Last Time I Left You’was a box office smash,” I remind him, naming the romantic drama I shot here on Cape Cod. “I had equal billing with Jackson Kane in that movie, I got great reviews, but now he’s off booking superhero movies and Oscar biopics, and the best you can offer me is ‘dead hooker’, and the cookie-baking lead in a TV holiday movie?”

“That’s different, Avery. He’s a star.”

“And I should be, too.” I snap back – and then immediately regret it. I sound like an entitled bitch, and Lord knows, I’m in no position to make demands right now. “Sorry,” I apologize quickly, “I just mean?—”

There’s a jolt, as I drive over a massive pothole in the road. I let out a yelp, yanking the steering wheel to stay in control.

That was close.

I exhale, relieved. Then the ‘tire pressure’ light flashes on.

Damn.

“I’ve got to go,” I tell Dax, even though I’m getting nothing but dead air now. “Call me tomorrow, we’ll talk about this Madeline movie!”

I hang up, watching the little light of doom glow steadily on the dashboard. Maybe it’s just a slow puncture, I tell myself hopefully, and I can make it into town before--

THUMP. THUMP.

I can feel the tire deflate fast, until I have no choice but to pull over on the sandy shoulder and come to a stop.

“Seriously?” I groan. If I believed in signs and premonitions, I’d say this whole Blackberry Cove plan is clearly cursed.

But you don’t, I remind myself, getting out of the car and popping the truck.You are an independent, grown woman, who’s more than capable of changing a flat tire.

Except, I’ve never actually done it before. And definitely not with a fresh manicure and white jeans.

I check my cell, but I’m not even getting a bar out here. It must be a dead zone. I look around. This is when I normally recruit some strapping man to help me out. Heavy lifting, cutting in line for a cab… It’s amazing what a few smiles and light flirting can achieve. But the highway is deserted, with no other cars in sight except?—

Yes!

I spot a muddy pick-up truck coming into view around the bend, so I start waving to get their attention. The back is loaded up with lumber, and it looks like the owner just drove it through a bog, but I’m not picky right now.

I wave harder.

The truck slows as it approaches, and then pulls off the highway and parks just behind my rental Mercedes.

“Thank you for stopping!” I beam, already sashaying over to greet the driver as he climbs down. “I think it’s going to rain soon, and I don’t know what I would have done, stranded here on the side of the road.”

“Well, we can’t have that, can we?” a deep voice says. And then he slams the door, rounding the truck, and I stop dead in my tracks.

“You!” I exclaim accusingly.

“Me.” My Good Samaritan glares back at me, suddenly looking just as annoyed.

Six foot two. Broad shoulders. Flannel shirt and old Levis. He’s got a battered baseball cap jammed backwards over his thick dark hair, two-day stubble on his stubborn jaw, and a familiar look of disdain in his clear blue eyes.

Duke Hendricks.

I take it back. I believe in curses, after all.

“I thought you said you wouldn’t be caught dead back on the Cape,” he says, leaning back against his truck and surveying me with a scowl.

“It’s not my first choice, that’s for sure,” I snap back, on the defensive now. Duke is a local from Blackberry Cove, some kind of grumpy boat-building craftsman straight out of a Hallmark movie. Minus the heart of gold, that is. He made it perfectly clear when we were filming the movie last year that he can’t stand Hollywood in general – and me in particular. “But clearly, the universe is testing me, because here I am again.”

Duke’s gaze moves from me to the rental car. “Now, why am I getting a serious case of déjà vu?”

I flush. Imayhave gotten my car stuck in a ditch last year, and needed Duke’s help getting the thing out. Not that he was a gentleman about it; the man huffed and complained so much, I was tempted to leave it there altogether. “It’s not my fault,” I protest quickly. “There was a pothole. It must have caught the tire.”

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