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Lorraine.
Of all the cars on the highway, it was Harry in Lorraine.
* * *
Harry
“What are you doing here?” Stacey demanded. “Are you actually stalking me now?”
“I’m staying in Ballydoon.” I said gruffly. “What’s wrong with your car? And why are you out here?”
She gave me a look. “I live in Ballydoon.”
“Wait, like the map at the pub with Turner’s Station. Are you a Turner that Turner’s Creek Road and Turner’s Creek is named after?”
“Going on seven generations.”
I blinked. “Only seven?”
“Ha. Look, you can go.” She waved dismissively as she dialled a number on her phone. “I’m fine. Thank you.”
I closed my door, leaned against Lorraine’s bonnet, and waited. I wasn’t going to leave her on the side of the highway.
Stacey paced on the spot, staring at her mobile. No one was answering.
“I can take a look at your car.”
“No, really. You can just go to work.” She called the number again. “Don’t let me keep you.”
“Stacey, please let me apologise. I meant it when I said I wasn’t propositioning you on Monday. I fucked up a simple request for lunch. I’m really sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable.”
I also knew that, while Stacey had avoided me yesterday, she had been constantly looking my way when she thought I wasn’t aware. When collecting patients from the waiting room or picking something off the floor, I’d caught her checking me out.
She stopped pacing. “Okay, apology accepted. And I’m sorry about the inappropriate messages with Sam.”
“You gonna apologise for the slut-shaming comment, too?” My lips twitched into a grin.
“No way.” She snorted. “It was deserved.”
“Fair enough. It was.” I smiled and Stacey smiled back, cars and trucks flying past us on the highway.
I pointed to her phone. “Help on its way?”
Stacey shook her head and sighed.
“Please, let me help you. My dad taught me heaps on engine maintenance with Lorraine. Ever since I was old enough to hold a shifting spanner.”
Finally, she nodded. “For the record, I drive but don’t work on cars. If you could take a quick look, that would be great.”
I shrugged out of my leather jacket, the air bracing, and walked to the boot of Lorraine.
“What are you doing? My car is over here.”
I held up a small toolkit and old towel.
“Oh right, of course,” she huffed, clearly flustered.
I closed Lorraine’s boot. “Can you pop your bonnet for me?”
