“Why?”

“I don’t want to fail at this. If my car dies somewhere and I get stranded again, I want to be able to rescue myself.”

I put an arm around her shoulder and kissed the top of her head. “I know. I like that about you.”

When it was time to attempt starting the Ford, I asked her to do it.

“Okay,” she said, her voice full of doubt. But she got behind the wheel and turned the key in the ignition. It struggled, coughing and sputtering.

Come on, you fucker, I willed the car. She needs this victory.

It jumped to life.

“Eeeeeep!” she squealed. Through the windshield, she gave me a blinding grin, and I gave her a thumbs up.

“Leave it running,” I called out.

She jumped out of the car and launched herself at me, clinging like a koala. “I did it!”

“You did it.” I hugged her back, remembering the excitement of doing this for the first time with my dad.

On her feet again, she looked with amazement from one engine to the other. “I feel like Dr. Frankenstein,” she said, pumping a fist in the air. “I brought a dead thing back to life!”

I laughed. “I know the feeling.”

“So I should make sure I have jumper cables in my car, right? Do I have to buy them separately? Or are they, like, included when you purchase a new car?”

“Not unless you buy a Rolls Royce,” I said wryly.

She sighed. “That is probably out of Auto Repair Barbie’s budget. At least for now.”

I tweaked her hat again. “I have some extra cables. I’ll make sure you have some when you go.”

When you go.

I said it, but I didn’t want to think about it. And from the look on Blair’s face, she didn’t either.

But she smiled and thanked me. “I really appreciate the lesson.”

“You’re welcome. But it’s not over yet. I need to show you how to remove the clips.”

She paid attention while I demonstrated how to unclip the leads in the reverse order she’d connected them, but the crackle of excitement in the air from a moment earlier was gone.

We’d brought something to life, and it had been easy.

But keeping it alive would be impossible.

Nothing lived forever.

Saturday morning, I went down to work early.

Blair had her interview up in Traverse City today, and I was driving her, which meant I could only work until about noon. She’d offered to drive herself if I’d loan her my truck, but after hearing all the horror stories about her driving record, I said I’d take her. After all, it was my fault her own car wasn’t ready yet.

Six days had gone by since I’d hidden those parts. Six fucking days.

On the outside, things were fine. Great, even.

On the inside, I was starting to panic.

My feelings for her weren’t going away like I wanted them to. In fact, they were growing stronger. I’d thought for sure I’d get tired of her after a few more days and be desperate to have my apartment to myself again, but I wasn’t. At all. I loved having her around, and my mind was starting to wander into dangerous what if territory.

What if we kept seeing each other after she moved? What if Cole was right and I was crazy to throw such great chemistry out the window? What if I was wrong about being better off alone?

I tried to wrap my brain around what it might look like. How often we’d see each other. How long it could last.

But every time I thought about it, my adrenaline started to pump like I was in some kind of imminent danger. For years, I’d managed to keep myself immune from this kind of weakness for someone. But she had this way of making me feel strong and helpless at the same time. She made me want to do everything I could to keep her around, and keep her happy. When she laughed at something I said or I saw her cheering in the stands during a game or she came up with yet another idea to help my business, it just made me feel so damn good—like a chemical reaction inside me.

I couldn’t deny I had real feelings for her, and that they were growing every day.

I didn’t know how to cut them off.

No, that wasn’t true. I did know how—I just wasn’t strong enough to do it.

I was still brooding about it when McIntyre came in around eight. “Hey, did that trailer hitch kit for the Jeep come in yet? I need to get that done this morning. It’s for Emily’s brother.”

“I haven’t seen it, but it’s possible. We’ve had several deliveries this week. Check the back.”

He wandered toward the back, and I didn’t see him for a while. I figured he’d found the hitch and was installing it on the Jeep outside, but about thirty minutes later, he approached me and stood there without saying anything.

“Find the hitch?” I asked from beneath the hood of a Nissan.

“No.” He paused. “But I did find the parts for Blair’s car. The packing slip said they arrived Monday.”

I froze. Didn’t look up.

“Did you know they were there all week?”

I continued tightening a bolt. “Yeah.”

“Uh, so what gives? Why didn’t you do the repair job?”

I straightened up and looked at him. “I haven’t had time.”

He gave me an odd look. “Do you want me to do it?”

“No,” I said quickly. “I’ll do it. I want to look everything over myself. Make sure it’s safe.”

“Okay.” He scratched his head. Something wasn’t sitting right with him, I could tell.

“I just want to surprise her, that’s all. She doesn’t know they came in, and I thought it would be fun to surprise her once the work is all done. So don’t say anything to her, okay?”

“I won’t say a word.”

I went back to what I was doing, but I couldn’t fucking concentrate to save my life.

McIntyre was silent the rest of the morning too.

I felt like he saw right through me.

The entire ride north, Blair kept up a steady stream of excited chatter, expressing her gut feeling that she and Frannie MacAllister were going to hit it off, fretting about finding a place to live she could afford, and hoping when the day was over she’d be able to call her mother and tell her she’d been wrong.

“I just feel like if this job comes through, that will finally be the thing I need to feel one hundred percent confident,” she said. “Like all the pieces will start falling into place.”

“What are the other pieces?” I asked.

“Well, I have a one-year plan, a five-year plan, and a ten-year.”

“Let’s start with the one.”

“Okay, in one year I want to seriously reduce my personal debt and be in a position to apply for a small business loan so I can start looking for my own space.”

So she was going to spend the next year working her ass off. She wouldn’t have time for me anyway.

“How about in five years?” I asked.

“In five years, I’d like my business to be up and running. I’d like to be in my own home, married to a handsome prince, maybe even with a baby or two.”

Even better. There was no way in hell I was that guy.

I gripped the steering wheel a little harder. “And in ten years?”