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"You're welcome. I'll be right there."
"Thanks again."
He hung up the phone, printed out the receipt, found the belts, and grabbed the keys to the delivery truck. "William, got a delivery. Might take me a while; Erin Moore is stranded on the side of the road."
William glanced at the belts and chuckled. "Nah, you give her those, she'll have one on before you can say 'Party on, dude!'"
"What?" What did fan belts have to do with parties?
He chuckled. "Never mind; you're too young. Take your time."
Ryan slid his sunglasses on. Maybe this time he wouldn't act like a complete idiot. Driving north, he looked for a big silver muscle car, and despite his anemic truck, he found Erin's car quickly. He pulled up behind her, put his hazards on, and hopped out with the belts and receipt. He squinted. The sleek silver beauty was almost too shiny in the bright sunlight. Erin obviously took good care of it, which he'd expect from Sarge's wife.
Walking up the side of the car, buffeted by the wind, noise, and fumes of passing cars and trucks, he held the belts out. "Here you go, ma'am—I mean Erin."
Wow. A tight T-shirt and tighter jeans outlined sexy curves, leaning into the engine compartment. More gorgeous than the car. She was smoking hot. Erin straightened and turned toward him. He'd forgotten how tall she was, only an inch shorter than his six feet. Her face was equally beautiful, even with no makeup, her hair pulled back in a ponytail and dusky purple circles under her eyes. Lack of sleep from owning her own business, or was she still mourning the Sarge? Maybe both—grief took time.
Erin grabbed a belt and turned back to the car. She tossed it on the air cleaner and yanked the wrench in her hand. "Thanks a lot. Can you throw the other one in my trunk?"
Ryan pulled his eyes off her backside. "Sure." Shoot, he didn't want to leave her here on the side of the road by herself. "Uh, do you want any help?"
Erin spun, hands on her hips. "You're kidding, right? You realize I'm a mechanic?" She bit off the words.
He raised a hand, remembering at the last second to leave the left one down. "Yes, ma—Erin. Just trying to be polite."
"Oh. Sorry." She grimaced. "Guess I'm a little sensitive about it."
"No problem." He stepped away but stopped to admire Sarge's car. It must comfort Erin to have something real, something solid to hang on to. He wished he had something real from his lost squadron mates. Most of them hadn't lived long enough to own anything but a few clothes and a beat-up car.
"What's your name, anyway?"
He turned back. "Ryan. Ryan Walsh." He held out his hand, and she shook firmly.
"Nice to meet you, Ryan. You already know I'm Erin, I guess." Her eyes narrowed, and she seemed to examine his face. "You look familiar. Have we met?"
He swallowed hard. "Yeah, actually we have. A while ago. A long while." He grimaced, unsure how she'd react. His right hand clenched, his left tried. "I was on your husband's crew at Elmo."
Erin leaned closer. "Oh! I remember you. The long hair threw me off."
Ryan forced a smile. More likely, it was the scars across his face. "Yeah, had enough of the military thing."
She chuckled. "I get that. Wore mine long and down for a couple of years after I got out."
"I remember." He recalled it all too well.
"You're not working for an airline?" Erin tilted her head.
He definitely didn't want to talk about his issues. "No."
She gave him an impersonal, polite smile, probably reacting to his abruptness. "Next time you bring something out to my shop, grab a cup of coffee first—on the house, of course—come back and talk. I'd love to know what you've been doing."
"Sure." Ryan nodded once. "See you then." No way. Erin Moore made him want things he couldn't have. She was way out of his league, even without all his damage. He trudged to the truck and drove to the shop, trying not to think about Erin. He failed miserably. In the shop, he put the keys on their hook and grabbed his soda.
"Ryan, can you get the phone?" William yelled from the office.
Jim was missing again. "Yeah, sure." He fumbled but scooped it up before the fourth ring. "Kelly's, lowest price always, can I help you?"
"Uh, yeah. There's something wrong with my car. Can you help me?" a high-pitched female voice whined.
