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Her membership to the breakdown club had elapsed months ago. Many of her trips were as a passenger in Rob’s Bentley convertible, and she had not paid attention to the renewal letter. She contemplated ringing Rob and asking for help. However, he was supremely busy and buried deep in the final draft of his latest book. The most attention he had given her over the past few days, if she dared to enter his study, had been grunts and dismissive comments.
No, Casey with her newfound independence could manage on her own. Opening up the trunk, she found the spare—it looked roadworthy, she thought. Then she saw the jack, and it became immediately apparent that she had no idea how to use it. Her ego ruptured as she fingered the cold metal, trying to imagine how it fit under the car.
Rob entered her mind again, but she dismissed him. It would have to be the breakdown club, and she would pay the call out fee. Rummaging through her handbag, she found her mobile and began to search for the number. She failed to notice the small white van which pulled up in front of her Mini. Emerging from the driver’s seat was a young man with tousled red hair. Casey froze with one hand on the door while the other held her mobile. She watched him move to stand by the bonnet of her Mini.
A bright football shirt emblazoned with a popular team emblem combined with jeans covered in flakes of coloured paint were his attire. Casey surmised he was good with his hands. The face, with soft red stubble about the mouth, seemed friendly.
“Hi, do you need help?” The voice was deeper than Casey had anticipated.
“Er, I’m going to call the breakdown service,” she explained.
“Let me change your wheel. Save you the hassle of waiting.” The redhead looked up at the sky. “Looks like rain. I’m Ben, by the way.”
“Er, Casey.”
“Pretty name,” he smiled, and Casey blushed. She glanced about. There were cars going by occasionally and nearby houses in walking distance. What harm could be done by letting him help?
“I like Minis,” said Ben. “My mum had one. Changed her wheel now and again.”
“You must be on the way to some place,” said Casey.
“Finished for the day.” He tapped his fingers on the bonnet. “Take it or leave it,” he said with a note of finality.
“Sorry,” said Casey. “Yes, I would be grateful for the help.”
She watched helplessly as he, with relative ease, began the task of changing her tyre. To help, she passed him things and kept an eye on the traffic to ensure they were not impeding it. The two strangers started to overcome their shyness, and talk ensued. Ben lived locally and was a painter and decorator. He chuckled at the state of her car, and she defended her dilapidated Mini with a passionate tone.
When he was nearly done, Casey received a text from Rob: where was she? She answered, briefly explaining her flat tyre. Rob immediately replied, offering to come and rescue her. Casey tapped a response: she already had a rescuer. A fine young man had pulled over to help.
The next response was terse and wanted to know who her roadside assistant was. Casey foolishly stated she had no idea but that the job was nearly complete. Putting her phone in her pocket, she returned the jack to the trunk alongside the wrecked tyre. Ben brushed the dust off his jeans and stood up. There was the awkward pause as they realised they were about to part company.
“A million thank yous,” said Casey graciously.
“No problem. Glad I came by.” Ben shifted uneasily on his paint stained boots. “Look, we both live locally. How about we meet up for a drink? You can say where—”
“Please,” interrupted Casey nervously. “I’m very grateful, but it would not be appropriate.”
“Oh,” sa
id Ben disappointed. “It’s not payment. I just, you know wondered…” his voice trailed off, and his face flushed the same colour as his hair. “I didn’t stop by because I wanted to pick you up.”
“No, I believe you,” said Casey earnestly. “I’m flattered, but I’m not single, you see.” She waved her mobile before her. “He wants to know where I am.”
“Oh,” said Ben again, and then with a resigned shrug, “Lucky bloke.”
There was nothing more to be said other than further words of gratitude. Ben waited for Casey to drive off, making sure the wheel stayed in place. She could see him in her rear view mirror waving a good-bye, with the disappointment still written on his handsome features.
By the time Casey had placed her door keys on the hook by the front door, Rob had appeared in the hallway. He appeared unusually flustered and almost breathless.
“You’re back!” he announced. “I’ve been worried sick. Why didn’t you answer my last text?”
“What?” asked Casey, surprised. “I was busy changing a wheel.”
“With another man!” scowled Rob.
“A Good Samaritan who stopped, yes. Saved me a fortune on call out charges,” said Casey with a huff. A soon as the words left her lips, she knew they were mistake.
“Call out? You didn’t ring me!” said Rob, stepping back.
