Page 17 of The Cowboy’s Secret Lover

Four

Faith had beenwrong to come to Kurt’s in the first place. She’d been wrong to stay more than a few minutes. What was even worse, she’d hoped to get closure for their youthful romance—and she’d been wrong about that, too.

Sliding into the driver’s seat, she placed the key into the ignition and turned.

Click.

Righting the key, she tried again.

Still, nothing.

In a flash of memory, she recalled the moments of her arrival. She’d had music blaring and had lowered the volume, not turned off the radio. Since the car was over 50 years old, a forgotten radio used enough power to drain the battery. It also meant that her connected phone was dead, and she couldn’t even call a tow-truck.

Looking at the house, she sighed. There was no way around it, she was going to have to ask Kurt for help.

Standing on the stoop, she muttered a curse and then knocked.

Kurt answered a moment later.

Hooking her thumb toward the car, Faith said, “The battery’s dead and so is my phone. Mind if I come in and call the auto club?”

“I’ll do you one better,” said Kurt. “I’ll get your battery started.”

Faith knew not to read too much into Kurt being solicitous. This was Texas after all, and people were brought up to be helpful and polite.

“You don’t have to…” she said.

Kurt slipped on a pair of flip-flops and his cowboy hat. His shoes slapped the concrete drive with each step. “My truck’s parked on the side of the house and I have a set of jumper cables in the back. Pop your hood, while I pull around.”

Faith flipped a lever that was hidden in the grille. Just as she was propping the hood open with a metal stand, Kurt drove up in a shiny, silver pickup.

After attaching the jumper cables to his battery, he placed the live ends on her battery. “Go ahead,” he said. His voice was raised over the whine of the truck’s motor. “See if your car will start now.”

Faith slid behind the steering wheel. She turned on the ignition.

Click.

Leaning out of the car’s open door, Faith called out. “Nothing.”

“Try again,” Kurt yelled.

She tried to start the car once more.

Click.

“Give it a little gas,” he suggested.

She dropped her foot on the accelerator.

Kurt began to curse.

Sliding from the driver’s seat, Faith came around to the front of the car. “What is it?”

“You have more than a dead battery,” he said. “I think your alternator’s busted.”

Having purchased an older car meant that Faith knew a little about the motor, engines, and such. And a broken alternator wasn’t good, in fact it was bad.

“I can still call the auto club. They can give me a tow back to town.”