Christi, Texas, she was exhausted. When she couldn’t get her new roommate to answer she’d taken a long nap at a truck stop located just outside of town. When she still couldn’t get her friend to answer, Chelly picked up a paper and decided to hit some estate sales around town. That was what she did when she was nervous or upset. She went on a treasure hunt.
That was how she’d ended up in front of this plantation home, complete with a picturesque wraparound porch, where Old Joe—her truck—had decided to quit on her.
“I will not cry,” she whispered. Even though she willed them away, tears threatened.
Why isn’t Lila answering? That feeling Chelly sometimes had when things weren’t right niggled at her. When Chelly had called Lila on Wednesday, her friend had invited her to stay at her place for as long as she would need. Chelly was looking for a fresh start, away from Tennessee. Away from her ex, who’d become a little too attached to her. To being an almost-stalker. When he’d appeared at the diner where she was working and created a scene, she’d given her notice, packed what few belongings she had and booked it out of town.
She didn’t need that kind of drama. New life. New dreams.
Except now she couldn’t get Lila to respond, and she didn’t even have the address of her friend’s house. Never one for planning much, this time her free-spirited ways had backfired.
I’ve been in worse jams.
Not really.
Oh, shut up. Anywhere was better than Nashville, where her ex had made her life miserable.
“Ma’am, are you okay?”
She glanced up from the steering wheel to find the hot guy from the estate sale looking in her passenger-side window. He was tall. At least six-three with a blond buzz cut that made her think he might be military. The bulging muscles under his T-shirt hadn’t escaped her notice when she’d been looking through the high-end treasures at his sale. Treasures that she would have been more than happy to take off his hands if she’d had more than a hundred bucks to her name. His prices were way below market value, even for a quick sale.
She forced a smile.
“I’m fine,” she said. “Thanks.”
“Uh-huh. I saw you try the ignition but it didn’t turn over. Didn’t make a sound. Could be the battery, but may be the alternator.”
Alternators were expensive; even a battery would take the last of her funds. Her throat clogged with emotion.
Oh, yay. This day just keeps getting better and better.
“If you pop the hood, I can take a look,” he said.
Here was a guy, who quite obviously had better things to do, and he wanted to give her a hand? His kindness was her undoing. A lone tear escaped down her cheek and she brushed it away fast with the heel of her hand.
So dumb. I never cry.
“Hey, now. It’ll be okay.” His voice was deep and smooth, like a good whiskey. “Don’t get upset. I’m pretty good with all things mechanical. I can help you, I promise.”
She forced another smile. “Sorry. Just having a bad day. And Old Joe decided to remind me of Murphy’s Law and has to be all stubborn because that’s going to make a bad day even better.” She sighed.
“I’ve been there,” he said. “But it’s gonna be all right. We’ll get the truck running. Like I said, there isn’t much I can’t fix.”
Maybe he wasn’t military; he might be a mechanic. Or a superhero.
“Young man,” an older woman interjected, waving at the hot guy. “How much do you want for the étagère?” She was pointing toward the Chinese Chippendale étagère that had left Chelly salivating.
Hot Guy took his aviators off, and she caught a glimpse of his beautiful dark green eyes. Wow. Total wow. He was gorgeous.
“Uh,” he said. “How much do you want to pay?”
What? Did this guy not have a clue as to what he had here?
Before the woman could answer, Chelly was out of the truck and walking toward her. “It’s five hundred, and that’s final,” she said.
The guy’s eyebrow went up, though he didn’t say anything.
“That’s fair,” the woman agreed. “Deal.” She took five one-hundred-dollar bills from her purse and gave them to Chelly.
Then the woman turned back to Hot Guy. “Young man, can you please help me load the piece into my van?” She gestured at a pristine luxury SUV parked in front of the next house.
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll be right there.” To Chelly, he said, “No way that bookshelf is worth that much.”
She smiled. “Not a bookshelf. It’s an étagère and it’s Chippendale. Retail it would go for around seventeen hundred.”
He blew out a whistling breath. “And here I was going to sell it for twenty bucks, or whatever she offered.”
Chelly almost choked. Hot Guy was absolutely clueless.
“Why did you have an estate sale if you don’t know what you’re doing?” She realized the words sounded harsh. “Sorry.” She quickly backtracked. “I mean, there are companies who can do this for you.”
He shrugged. “I assumed it wouldn’t be this hard, and I didn’t see why I should give a company twenty percent just to sell a bunch of junk.”
She shook her head again. “You have no idea the quality of items you have here,” she said. “This junk is worth thousands of dollars. It has lots of value. Even in the few larger pieces you have on the lawn, there’s enough to buy a used car. In this neighborhood you’re going to draw in a high-dollar clientele, and you need to take advantage of that. I don’t live around here, but a neighborhood like this one is where antiques dealers go first. Most people have no idea what their stuff is worth.”
He frowned. “You seem to know a lot about this.”
“Everybody has their thing, mine is antiques. I love it all. It’s kind of a hobby.” A hobby she’d like to turn into a business someday.
“I have an idea,” he said. “If you’ll help me out, I’ll fix your truck for free.” He smiled, and she was glad she could hold on to the truck for support. The man was sexy from his blond hair to his superbly formed calf muscles and all points in between.
“I’m in over my head,” he continued. “It’s only nine a.m. If you’ll stay until around three or so, I’ll make sure your truck is ready by the time you want to go. And I’ll pay for all the parts, and, as I said, labor is free.”
Free parts. Hmm.
She asked, “And all I have to do is make sure all these sharks don’t rob you?”
He smiled again, and her breath stuck in her lungs. “It’s a fair trade. You just made me four hundred and eighty bucks more than I thought I would. The rest is gravy.”
