“Where’re you off to?”
“Kind of taking the afternoon off,” she said. “I haven’t had the chance to wander around since I got here.”
“I’m due for a break. Can I buy you a coffee?”
Annie regarded the mechanic. Clad in blue coveralls and covered in black, he was still handsome, with searing blue eyes and silky chestnut hair pulled back in a low ponytail. Was he asking her out? Or was he just being friendly?
She smiled to herself. What did it matter? “Sure, Joe, that’d be fine.”
“Cool.” Cool? Man, he couldn’t be more than twenty-two. “Give me two minutes. I’ll wash up and be right with you.”
Annie was admiring a vintage Corvette when Joe sidled out. She nearly jumped out of her skin when she saw him. Levis sagging at just the right spot on lean hips, broad shoulders clad in a Ralph Lauren polo. Hardly the clothes for a little town in the west. He had combed his hair and re-secured it behind his neck.
“You ready?” he asked.
“Yeah. Sure.” She ran her fingers over the blue sports car’s sleekness. “Whose car is this, Joe?”
He grinned at her. His lips weren’t as full and shapely as Dallas’s, but they were darn nice nonetheless. “It’s mine.”
“No kidding?”
“Yeah. I work on her in my spare time. You wanna go for a ride?”
“Don’t you have to get back to work?”
“Nah. It’s a slow afternoon. And Brady’s there for anyone who walks in.”
“Are you sure?”
“It’s called Joe’s for a reason, Annie. It’s my business, so I can come and go as I please. That’s the way I like it.”
His business. Maybe he was older than she thought. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure enough.”
“How old are you?”
“Thirty-one.”
Her eyes widened. “Wow. I’d have thought you were much younger.”
“Why? How old are you? Wait. Let me guess.” He eyed her up and down, his sizzling gaze heating her body. “I’d say about twenty-seven?”
Annie burst out laughing.
“Did I say something humorous?” Joe asked, his eyes confused.
“Not at all, Joe.” She linked her arm through his. “You just made my day is all. I’d love that ride now.”
“I’d have guessed even younger,” he said, opening the passenger door of the Corvette, “but I knew you’d have to be at least twenty-five when you finished vet school.”
Smart, too.
“It’s only two blocks to Rena’s,” he said, sliding into the driver’s seat next to her. “We’ll have a coffee, and then I’ll take you on a real ride.”
Annie winced slightly at the double entendre. Surely he hadn’t meant it that way.
“So”—she leaned forward and smoothed her fingers over the glossy leather console—“how long have you lived here in Bakersville?”