Dateline Matrimony (Hot off the Press! 3)
Page 4
He shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans while he studied the problem. The tire was deflated down to the rim. “Have you ever changed a flat before?”
“Once,” she replied, probably unaware of the touch of uncertainty in her voice.
“Pop the trunk,” he said, pulling off his thin leather jacket and tossing it into his car. He didn’t want to risk getting it dirty, and it was too warm a day for it, anyway. He just liked wearing it. “I hope you’ve got a jack and a spare.”
“I have both—but I’m quite capable of changing the flat myself.”
“I’m sure you are, but since I’m here, and since I’m hoping to impress you with my efficiency—not to mention my gallantry—I’d be happy to volunteer my services.”
“But I—”
“No strings,” he added. “You don’t even have to thank me, if you don’t want to. Open the trunk, will you?”
She sighed and shoved her key into the trunk lock. “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful for your help. I’m just accustomed to taking care of my own problems.”
“No, really?” He bent into the neat-as-a-pin trunk, thinking she must vacuum it twice a week. He could have a picnic in there, it was so clean.
“Yes. It’s…easier that way.”
“I agree. Hmm. Full-size spare. You don’t see those very often any more. Note the way my muscles flex as I lift it effortlessly from the trunk.”
From the corner of his eye, he watched her struggle against a smile. “Very impressive,” she said dryly.
“Do anything for you?”
“Yes. It makes me glad you’re the one lifting it and not me.”
“Not exactly the reaction I was hoping for,” he replied in a pseudo-grumble, kneeling beside the flat. She stood out of his way as he went to work.
“There’s your problem.” He pointed to a large metal screw gleaming from within the tread. “Looks like you ran over it recently and the air’s been escaping ever since.”
“A screw? That’s what caused the flat?”
He lifted an eyebrow. “You were expecting me to say that someone slashed your tires?”
“Of course not,” she said, looking more annoyed than amused by his teasing.
He often seemed to have that effect on her.
After a few moments Teresa conceded almost reluctantly, “You do that very well. You’ll have it finished a lot more quickly than I would have.”
He spun the lug wrench, unable to resist adding a bit of flair to the movement. “When I was a kid, I wanted to be on the pit crew of a NASCAR team.”
“What changed your mind?”
“I found out it was hard work. Involved sweat and dirt and stuff like that. Not for me. I’m content now to just watch the races on TV.”
She looked at him as if she weren’t quite sure whether he was joking. “So you gave up your boyhood dream because of laziness?”
“Exactly,” he answered readily. “Writing’s a lot easier. I hardly ever break a sweat doing that.”
“I would think that being a reporter for the local newspaper is a fairly demanding career.”
Without pausing at his task, he gave a bark of laughter. “Working for the Evening Star? Have you actually seen the local newspaper?”
“Well, no. I just moved here a couple of weeks ago and I…”
“Take my word for it. Real news happens maybe once a month during an exciting year in this town, and there are two of us on staff to cover it. Basically it’s a part-time job for me—which leaves me free to pursue other interests.”