CHAPTER 14
Dylan
It took me just minutes to get to the gas station.
I kept coolant in the back seat, because this was Wisconsin. No more explanation should be necessary. When I pulled up, I found a shivering Zoe, wearing only a thin sweater. What was she thinking?
I parked, hopped down from the cab and walked to Zoe.
“Hey,” I called out.
“What are you doing here?”
“I brought the coolant,” I replied. Was she being sarcastic?
“Huh? Why?”
If this was her idea of a joke, she needed to take some improv classes, the delivery as all wrong.
I came to a halt. “Zoe, you asked me to come.” I pulled out my phone, tapped on the buttons, and held it up to her face. Whatever, at the time it felt crucial to prove that I wasn’t being a crazy stalker. “Here are the messages.”
“Oh, no,” she groaned, smacking her forehead. “Shit, I’m so sorry, like, couldn’t be sorrier, fuck. I meant to text that to Mina, the woman you met this morning.”
I deflated. Back at the station, even though I was fairly surprised that she’d thought to contact me, the ride over had given me time to see it as a privilege, not a responsibility. I had promised to help her however possible, and sometimes that meant lugging coolant across town. In other words, I’d come to see the text as yet another opening salvo to a potential night of fun.
This discovery that I was not the intended recipient put a damper on my heroics.
“That’s okay,” I said, managing a steady tone, attempting to salvage what was quickly becoming a very awkward situation. “But I’m here now, and I do have the coolant. You want?”
She rubbed her arms and nodded vigorously. “Yes, yes, please. And again, I’m so sorry to bother you, I really wasn’t trying to be a burden. Especially after all you’ve done for me.”
“It’s nothing. I’m at your beck and call.” I punctuated this with a small bow, in case the words came off as too intense. I worried about scaring her off. “I’ll just go fetch the stuff and be right back.”
I raced back to my truck. The sight of her, I’d quickly realized, gave me an adrenaline rush. But now, after we’d come so close tonight — to doing what, I daren’t say — even the mere glance at her body made my muscles swell. Especially the unmentionable ones. It was freezing cold, but inside, I was on fire.
Looking at her had almost erased my conversation with Tom, though I found it hard to paint over the part about her being a suspect. Did I really care about that, though, when I felt so sure she was innocent? God, he was right. Love was hard fucking business. Live in the moment, I instructed myself. And for heaven’s sake, get her the damn coolant.
Right. My very purpose for being here. I startled abruptly from my internal monologues, grabbed the coolant and once again crossed the station lot. The liquid sloshed around inside the jug, and I thought it was an apt musical accompaniment to the sloshing nerves in my stomach.
“Here you go,” I said, passing the jug over. “Do you know how to do it?”
She rolled those gorgeous eyes, and replied, “Of course. You know it gets cold in New York too, right? Wisconsin isn’t the only place with four seasons.”
I scoffed. “What you call winter we call a hot summer’s day.”
“But on the other hand, we got hurricanes.”
“Pfft, hurricanes? Child’s play.” Remembering my initial thought upon arrival, I added, “Speaking of which, city princess, where’s your jacket?”
She rubbed her pale arms, replying, “Left it at work. I was just a total space cadet today, and I was in a rush to get to the lot and—”
“It’s okay,” I interjected. “We’ll get the car running in no time. ’Til then,” I pulled my jacket off, and arranged it around her shoulders, “stay warm.”
She snuggled into the jacket, pulling it closer. She looked like a cheerleader, swathed in her football boyfriend’s letterman jacket.
“Thanks,” she said. “Though you’ve really gotta stop giving me this thing.”
“It looks better on you anyways.”
She grinned. “But don’t you get cold?”
“I’m sure we can find some way of keeping me warm,” I returned.
Her eyebrows shot up. “Come on, let’s go fix this stupid fucking car.”
She tried to grab the coolant from my hand, but I shook my head and walked over with her to the car.
The car had seen better days — possibly in the seventies. Zoe had popped the hood sometime before my arrival, and now moved to the front. She leaned over the vehicle and poured the mixture in. I regretted offering her help earlier, this woman seemed to know her way around a vehicle.
“I’m sorry to say it, but the car might be toast,” I uttered.
“I know, I know, and I know it’s not really the lot’s fault,” she griped. “But don’t say it, that’s bad luck. Besides, this is what was wrong with the car the last time something like this happened. Hopefully, it hasn’t developed a new problem.”
“That’s some New York thinking,” I replied. “Out here, we don’t got luck, we have hard work and whiskey.”
“In the engine?” she joked. She finished pouring out the coolant and stood up. “Well, let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”
Zoe tossed me the keys, and continued, “Get in and see if she’ll start up.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I scooted into her car and attempted to rev the engine. Once, twice, a third time. Nada.
“Is it working?” she shouted from underneath the hood.
“Sorry, not taking.” But she already knew that. “I don’t think it’s the coolant. I think you might have another problem.”
“Fuck me,” she muttered. Gladly, I wanted to reply. I heard her deliver a swift kick to the undercarriage of the car and call it some colorful words.
“Hey,” I called back, “treat her nicely and maybe she’ll cooperate.”
“Doesn’t that qualify as believing in luck?”
“Nah, it qualifies as treating a lady right.”
Ignoring my suggestions, Zoe gave the car a few more kicks and curses. At last, she relented and loudly replied, “I think it’s a goddamn goner.”
“Too late to call a tow company,” I returned.
I exited the driver’s seat, pacing a few steps until I was hovered over the popped hood with Zoe. I was now bare-armed, and Zoe, dressed in my jacket, lightly rubbed up against me. During the day, I’d noticed that the jacket had adopted some of her smell, as though it had mingled into the lining. Our scents mixed nicely, mint and woodsy undertones with citrus top notes.
“You need a ride?” I offered. “‘Fraid there won’t be any other trucks coming by here for a while that might help you out.”
She lifted a pair of stormy green eyes to my face and sighed. “I think I do need a ride. I’ll text Mina, she’s usually up late. Thanks for all your help, I can’t tell you how grateful I am.”
I scoffed. “You think I’d drive out here, and leave you stranded in the middle of the night with no working car? In the middle of winter? For shame. That’s no code of conduct for a man. I’ll get you home.”
“Is that a good idea?” she asked quietly.
“What do you mean?”
Her look was reproachful. “You know exactly what I mean.”
And I did. Deny it as I might, I understood what she was getting at. As her officer, it was a bad idea. Not to mention, she didn’t — and if I had my druthers, never would — know about technically being a suspect. On top of all that, it was unclear if my heart had mended enough to let another person in.
“I’m just not sure if it’s a good idea,” she murmured.
I respected her boundaries, understanding that the concerns were legitimate. “Listen,” I said, “it’s cold as shit, we absolutely don’t have to… you know. I can just give you a ride home.”
“Really?”
“Zoe, of course. I’d be happy to.”
“And what if,” she whispered, so softly I could barely hear it, “what if I change my mind, and want to?”
Leaning in close, I replied in a low voice, “I’d be very much obliged if you could alert me to that.”
“Okay.”
“So, would you like a ride home, no strings attached?”
Silence. At last, she shook her head. “You’re right. I couldn’t possibly wait out here alone.”
Playing along, I chimed in, “Of course not.”
I watched her face shift from reservation to acceptance, and my pulse skipped.
“Okay,” Zoe said. “Take me home.”
I gestured with an open arm to my car, and replied, “Your chariot awaits.”