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“The garage is just a few miles up the road”—he gestured with his chin—“next to the fort.”
“Fort Lincoln…?”
She spoke with such reverence, he did a double take.
“When I was a kid, Grandma filled my head with so many tales about Fort Lincoln that it sounded like some fabled kingdom in a storybook.” Her eyes dancing, she laughed. “In a few minutes, I’ll set foot in this mythical utopia.”
He tilted his head to glance from the road. “Fort Lincoln is a beautiful place, but I wouldn’t call it utopia.”
“Still, it’s like being transported to Mu or Atlantis—places you’ve read about but don’t believe exist.” Her cheekbones rose in a whimsical smile. “Thinking in those terms, the name’s magical.”
“When you put it that way, maybe so.” Her jade-green eyes mesmerizing, he blinked to break the gaze. Keep your eyes on the road. “What brings you here?”
****
“Thought I’d stop on my way to El Paso, spend a day or two looking around, and maybe find my roots.”
“You found me, cuz.”
Cousin, huh? Taking in his rugged good looks, I studied the man beside me. Tendrils of dark curls dipped artlessly on his smooth brow as if finger-combed into place. When he took his eyes from the road, his gaze was direct, and his warm, coffee-brown eyes—fringed with impossibly long lashes—were captivating. Maybe third cousins technically but not by blood.
“What are the odds of strangers learning they’re related?” His jaw widened into a grin. “Such a coincidence.”
“I don’t believe in coincidences.” I shook my head. “I’d call our meeting a concurrence of events. Synchronicity.”
“You’re splitting hairs.” His jaw stiffening, he turned toward me. “What’s the difference between coincidence and synchronicity?”
“Coincidence implies luck. Synchronicity is an arrangement of events. Nothing happens by chance. Something caused us to meet.” I pressed my lips together. “My grandmother had a saying. ‘To everything, there is a purpose.’ ”
He took his gaze from the road and smiled. “And sometimes, coincidence is just dumb luck.”
“I disagr—”
“Here we are.” He turned off the road by a sign reading Auto Repairs While You Wait. “And there’s Smitty.” He pointed to a paunchy man in overalls.
Already? So close to town. Only a few more miles, and I would’ve avoided the accident…Frustrated with myself, I swallowed a groan, then turned toward Luke. “Thanks for the lift.”
“My pleasure.” His brown eyes glistened in the afternoon sun.
Why was I so confrontational? Dumb…dumb…dumb. My chin dipping, I mumbled into my chest. “Didn’t mean to argue.”
“Not argued, debated.” His lips curled into a slow smile.
Despite my burning cheeks, I couldn’t resist returning his smile.
“You own this car, Miss?” Wiping his hands on a rag, the man approached us.
“Maeve, this is Smitty, the best mechanic in town.”
“You might not be smiling when I tell you the damages.”
“Not good, huh?” Grimacing, I jumped from the truck and followed him.
“Until I get it on the lift, I can’t be sure, but for openers, you’re looking at a new exhaust system, oil pan, alternator…and possibly transmission and steering.”
“Ouch.” My shoulders stiffened. “How long will repairs take?”
“Depends on what I find.” Smitty shrugged. “But this being the weekend, you can count on at least three days for the parts to be delivered.”
