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“Need some help?” He held his hand out toward her.
“Thanks.” Grasping his strong hand, she hoisted herself up with the help of a handle and the running board. “That wasn’t so bad.”
His expression was sheepish. “My sister always complains about having to climb up in this thing, especially in heels.”
She laughed. “No problem.” Then she glanced down at her high-heeled shoes. While she enjoyed dressing up for work, she rarely wore pumps. Today, though, she’d chosen heels in order to look her best for the presentation.
Darcy settled in the passenger seat and inhaled the lingering woodsy scent that she assumed was Carter’s cologne. He appeared beside her and folded his long frame into the driver’s side. Soon they were on their way, with another country music song singing softly through the speakers. She gave him directions before a comfortable silence settled over them.
She snuck a glance his way as he slowed to a stop at a light. “I really appreciate this.”
“I don’t mind. I would hope someone would do the same for my sister.” He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel in time with the song.
Darcy looked down at her watch. It was almost ten. She was running out of time...
As if reading her mind, he said, “I’ll do my best to get you there in time.”
She smiled. Not only was he handsome, but he also seemed so kind and thoughtful. Surely he had a girlfriend.
Not that it’s any of my business. But Haven would be so disappointed in her for not asking him if he was single.
“Does your dad work in a shop nearby?”
Darcy felt her brow furrow.
He chuckled. “You said your dad was the only mechanic you knew.”
“Oh. No, he’s not a mechanic by trade. It’s more of a hobby.”
Carter clicked on the blinker. “Does he have any project cars?”
“He has a 1958 Dodge truck that took years to restore.” She adjusted herself in the seat and let her tense muscles loosen. “It’s a Power Wagon.”
“What color?”
“Red.”
“Wow.” Carter shook his head, grinning. “Those trucks are so cool.”
“Yes, they are,” she agreed. “It took him a while to find it. He said he was looking for the perfect truck. He hired someone to handle the bodywork and paint, but he did most of the engine work himself.”
“Impressive.”
“Do you have a project car?”
“I do.”
“Well, don’t leave me hanging here,” she said, and he laughed again. “What is it?”
“A 1970 Plymouth Road Runner. My grandfather’s pride and joy.”
She gasped. “Those cars are gorgeous. Is it close to being finished?”
He adjusted his hat on his head. “It’s on hold right now. You know how sometimes life just happens.”
“I can relate to that.” She turned toward him. “What color is it?”
“Orange.”
