The Secret One

by Cardello, Ruth

  He surprised me by looking genuinely pleased instead. “I’ve never been one to turn down help. Let’s take a look.” I joined him beside the hood of his car and dismissed the tingle that shot through me as his arm brushed against mine. It made sense that I was ultra-aware of this man—I didn’t know him, and we were alone in a secluded area. What felt like attraction was more likely a healthy dose of I-don’t-want-to-die-at-the-hands-of-a-stranger adrenaline.

  My breath left me when he raised the hood and revealed what could only be described as a crime against all that was holy in the field of mechanics. Not only had he replaced the original parts, but many of the new bits were not even in the right location. “I’ve never seen anything quite like this.”

  In a proud tone, revealing that he’d completely missed the horror in mine, he said, “Right? Once I understood the basics of mechanics, I let myself get a little creative. So far so good. I’m impressed every time she gets me somewhere. Before her, I had never so much as changed a car’s oil.”

  “I believe you.” Fascinated, I leaned over the engine. How was it running at all? It wasn’t that he’d replaced or repaired so many of the original parts; it was how he’d done it. On closer inspection a lot of his modifications weren’t unsafe, but they weren’t right either. I imagined how a doctor would feel if they ever met a patient with their stomach where their heart should be and vice versa. Could it work? Yes, but why? Despite all that was wrong, the reason for the overheating engine was simple. “You’re in luck. Looks like your radiator hose let go.”

  “You’re right,” he said, chucking his shoulder against mine. “I love it when it’s something I know how to fix. I’ll give it a few more minutes to cool, clamp that baby back on, and I’ll be on my way. Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.” I gave him a long look as I tried to figure him out. He wasn’t wearing a ring. That didn’t mean he wasn’t married. He found me attractive, but I also felt like I was being dismissed. Not that I care. I decided long ago that I don’t need to be in a relationship to be happy. “I have an extra clamp in the trunk of my car if you need one.”

  He turned toward me. Casual. Confident. “I appreciate the offer, but my own trunk is stocked with everything short of a spare steering wheel. This is not our first breakdown.”

  I believed that as well. Our eyes met, and for a moment I forgot we were strangers. There really was something familiar about him. “Do you live in the area?” The question came out before I had a chance to think about how it would sound.

  He wiggled his eyebrows. “Are you asking because you’re hoping to see me again?”

  “No,” I answered as if the idea was ludicrous, then pressed my lips together. It had been a long time since I’d met someone who made me feel young and unsure. It was unsettling but also exciting. “I was going to suggest the name of a reliable tow service if it ends up you require one.”

  “Of course.” My response hadn’t lessened the smile in his eyes. “Well, then I’m from Connecticut, but only about an hour or so away. Not an impossible situation if a tow truck felt inclined to attempt the trip.”

  Clever little innuendo. I tipped my head to one side as my heart raced in my chest. How far was too far to drive for the promise in his gaze? I reminded myself that he likely already had someone in his life. “You don’t have one you’re loyal to back there?”

  He cocked an eyebrow as if accepting an unstated challenge. “I don’t, actually. I handle everything myself.” After a pause, he raised a hand in protest and chuckled. “That time I was actually referring to not using a tow service.”

  This time I chuckled—I couldn’t help it. “Whatever. No judgment.”

  “And you?”

  “I—” My cheeks flushed, and I looked away. It would have been easy to take this to the next level. There was a time when I would have. I hadn’t valued myself as much back then. What was it about this man that made him so difficult for me to walk away from? My phone buzzed then with a text from a friend at the event, warning that people were asking where I was. “I have to go. I’m already late.”

  He looked as if he wanted to say something, then changed his mind. “Thanks again for stopping to make sure I was okay.”

  I nodded. Well, that’s that, I guess. “You’re welcome.” I turned and made it all the way to my car before giving in to an impulse and striding back to where he was still standing. “I’d feel better if you had my number just in case your car breaks down again on your way home.”

  He really did have the most amazing smile. “I’d feel better too.” He took out his phone and went into his contacts.

  I recited my number, then added, “McKenna.”

  He gave me an odd look, then typed my number in. My phone buzzed with a text message—from him. Christof.

  We stood there for a moment, simply staring into each other’s eyes. Man, those eyes. I would have bet my life I’d looked into them before. “Check all the hoses before you start her up again. If they’re hard and brittle, you might want to replace all of them.”

  “Got it. Check my hoses.”

  I hesitated. His tone was playful, but he was still letting me go. It bothered me that I didn’t want him to. My phone buzzed again. I texted back that I was on my way. “I really do have to go. Good luck.”

  “Thanks. You too.”

  I walked a few feet away, then looked over my shoulder. Our gazes met and held. I was someone who followed my instincts, but I couldn’t justify them this time. Part of me wanted to ditch CamTech and help Christof fix his car. I imagined that leading to us sharing a meal . . . then possibly more. I shook my head. It was crazy to think this could go anywhere. “Don’t use my number unless you break down.”

  He cocked his head to one side. “Okay.”

  Okay? Fine. I was being an idiot over someone I had nothing in common with. To prove it to myself, I asked, “What do you think of my ride?”

  His gaze slid past me to a car anyone in my circle would be able to instantly identify. “Looks fast. Old.”

  “Do you know the year it was made?”

  “Not a clue.”

  I’d figured as much. Definitive proof that we had nothing in common. I was about to turn away again when he called out, “Hey, what’s my favorite board game?”

  I searched his face. “There’s no way I could know that.”

  “Unless you asked me and I told you. You have my number. Don’t use it unless you break down.” He was soft spoken, but the look he was giving me was all challenge. I wondered how that would play out in the bedroom.

  “Not going to happen.” I stood there, unable to leave, unwilling to give in to the urge to stay.

  He leaned back against the door of his car. “Don’t be surprised when you find yourself calling. Seven out of ten women find me irresistible.”

  A laugh burst out of me. Seven out of ten? The laughter released me from what felt like a spell. I opened my car door. “I’ll fight the urge as long as I can. Have a safe trip home, Christof.”

  “Talk to you soon, McKenna,” he said with a grin and a wave.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHRISTOF

  Now that was a woman a man could spend a long drive home thinking about. After reattaching the hose and getting Mack back on the road, I gave myself permission to grin.

  She was definitely going to contact me.

  Meeting on the side of the road hadn’t been ideal. Had we met at a party or through friends, I would have come on stronger. She was drop-dead gorgeous in that tight little black dress, with enough curves to make it difficult to keep my blood above my waistline while talking to her. It felt wrong, though, to show too much interest while she was in a vulnerable position.

  I smiled as I remembered how she’d claimed to know a hundred ways to end my ability to have children. Some women might have cursed as they made that threat, but she hadn’t. My siblings would love her humor.

  It wasn’t that we didn’t indulge in a bout of profanity now and then, b
ut never around our parents. My brothers and I could have knockdown fights when we were younger and receive little more than a list of shared chores as a consequence, but if we let loose a swear in front of my mother—run. My father had a healthy fear of incurring my mother’s wrath. I didn’t consider that a bad thing.

  Some men enjoyed helpless, clingy women, but I never had. Sebastian’s first wife had built her life around his, and I’d endured many a drunken confession from him about how he regretted never asking her what she’d wanted. He saw their relationship in terms of where he’d failed Therese, but in my mind she’d failed him as well. She’d never stood up to him, never said she wanted more. Even that last day, the one he hated himself for, the day she’d asked him to go with her to her obstetrician and he’d chosen a business meeting instead—she could have stood her ground then. Sebastian would have caved. He’d loved her. We all had. Missing her didn’t make me blind to how they hadn’t been a good fit.

  Sebastian’s second wife, Heather, an accountant with her own business, was far from afraid of sharing her opinions, and he was a better man for it. Intelligent. Independent. She and her daughter had dragged my brother out of the darkness and back into the world of humanity.

  Mauricio’s wife was similar—an engineer. Brilliant. Confident enough to stand up to him when he got cocky. Best part? She saw the good in him, just didn’t tolerate his bullshit. It was a beautiful thing to witness.

  It was easy to imagine McKenna at my parents’ table, laughing along with everyone. I wondered what she did for a living. Something with cars probably. A salesperson? No, she didn’t give off that vibe at all. A mechanic? Nothing wrong with that, and it would explain how she’d seemed to know right away what was wrong with my car, but I had a feeling she was more than that. She came across as someone who was accustomed to being in charge.

  My phone rang with a call from my father. Without wasting time on a greeting, he said, “Am I driving up to get you?”

  “Sorry. I meant to call you back. I totally forgot. I’m about thirty minutes from my place.”

  “You know how your mother worries.”

  Dad was a worrier as well, but he liked to say it was all Mom. It wasn’t like me to forget to update them, though. “I really am sorry, Dad. It won’t happen again.”

  “It’s okay. Just glad you got your car started. What was it this time?”

  I told him. “Mom thinks I should get a new car, but—”

  “Mack is important to you.”

  I nodded. “Exactly. You get it.”

  “Well, your mother wasn’t there the night you met the woman you said ‘spoke to your soul.’”

  “The night I what?”

  He chuckled. “I’m not surprised you don’t remember. You were pretty wasted when you told me. Tequila has never been your friend.”

  “Seriously, Dad, are you making this up?”

  He sighed. “Maybe some things are better forgotten.”

  Life had felt out of control after Therese’s death, and I’d turned to alcohol more than once. Tragedies were not supposed to happen to the people I loved. I hadn’t known how to deal with the loss of Therese or how it had changed the fabric of my family. I vaguely remembered waking up to my father sitting in a chair in my dorm room, looking so exhausted and concerned I never overindulged again. “No, tell me. I’m curious.”

  “Her name was Mack. You met her at some bar you were too young to be drinking at anyway. I’ve selectively forgotten most of the story you told me because there are some things parents don’t want to know, but she stuck with me because she stuck with you.”

  Mack. McKenna. It had to be a coincidence. “What did she look like?”

  “You never said. All you cared about was that she was keeping her father’s car running to somehow keep him alive. You said you were both sad in the same way, but she said some things that echoed in your soul . . . no, touched it . . . something crazy like that. I thought it was just drunk ramblings, but a week later you bought a broken-down car and named it after her, so I guess she really did affect you.”

  Holy shit, was that how I’d chosen Mack’s name? “Dad, I met a woman tonight—when I was on the side of the road because Mack’s engine was overheating. Her name was McKenna. Could she be the same person?”

  “Did she touch your soul again?”

  I barked out a laugh. “No, Dad. Nothing so intense.” But I’d felt a connection to her. I told him how she’d pulled over to make sure I was okay. “I gave her my number. If she calls, I’d definitely like to see her again.”

  “What did she think of your car?”

  “I think Mack was why she stopped. She was driving an old stock car, maybe? I wish I’d asked her about it. It looked old enough to have been her father’s car. Dad, what if it was her?”

  “Did she say anything that sounded like she remembered you?”

  I went over our conversation again with a fresh lens. “No.”

  “That might be a good thing. You were in rare form that night.”

  “Right. And you never saw her?” I knew the answer, but I asked anyway. I wanted there to be a glimmer of hope.

  “She was gone by the time I picked you up from the bar. Probably left while you were sick in the bathroom.” He cleared his throat. “Don’t forget to text us when you get home.”

  “Will do.” Before I hung up, there was something I had to say. “Thank you for always being there, Dad. It couldn’t have been easy to sit with me like that when you also had Sebastian spiraling. At the time, I couldn’t see past how the whole situation was affecting me, but I see it now. I know how lucky I am to have the family I do.”

  My father’s tone thickened when he said, “Drive safely, Christof. I love you.”

  “Love you too, Dad.”

  After our call ended, I flexed my hands on the steering wheel and tried to remember the night my father had described. You’d think I’d be able to remember something about a woman who’d “touched my soul.” Nothing.

  Mack.

  McKenna.

  I hated that I couldn’t remember more from that night in the bar. Not that it mattered if they were two different women. Hell, maybe it would be better if they were.

  Later that evening, after updating my parents that I was safe, I lay in bed fighting a strong desire to send a text to the woman who was making it impossible for me to sleep.

  I could open the door innocently simply by saying I’d made it home safely. No, too obvious. I’d agreed to only contact her if I broke down. My word was important to me.

  Waiting would have been difficult before I’d spoken to my father, but now I had questions I couldn’t answer on my own.

  Your move, McKenna.

  Text, call, smoke signal. I don’t really care.

  I need to see you again.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  MCKENNA

  The next day, I pulled to the side of our racetrack, undid my harness, and stepped out of the car I was testing for a client. Nothing like a few laps around the track to clear my head.

  “Looked good. How did she feel?” Ty called out as he walked over.

  “Smooth. So much better than she handled the first time. Marcus will be pleased.”

  “Going to keep your helmet on all day?” Ty joked.

  “Oh.” I unclasped it and took it off. “I forgot I had it on.”

  He gave me a long look. “Thank God you don’t race. Something’s on your mind, and whatever it is, behavior like that can get a man killed.”

  Swinging the helmet from my hand, I quipped, “Then it’s a good thing I don’t have a dick.”

  He laughed. “I’m not so sure about that.”

  I rolled my eyes at him. “Was there something you wanted, you know, besides simply to give me shit?”

  He brought a hand up to his chest. “That stings. Yes, I have a question. Why is my phone blowing up with texts from some idiot named Jason and pics of his miniscule package?”

  My mouth dropped ope
n, and I slapped Ty’s arm with the back of my hand. “He did not send you dick pics. You’re making that part up.”

  With a bland expression, Ty pulled out his phone and scrolled through what could only be described as unflattering images of a semiaroused penis. Eww. When I stopped laughing, I said, “He was all over me at the event last night. I was tempted to tell him off, but I know how important it is to be on my best behavior. Gross. I knew he was a creep.”

  “So you gave him my number?”

  “Oh, come on, that’s funny.” The look on Ty’s face had me holding my side and giving in to another fit of laughter. It didn’t matter at all that he wasn’t laughing along. “Giving your number instead of mine never gets old.”

  “Um-hum. You do know I tracked down the last creep you sent my way.”

  My mouth dropped open again. “You didn’t.”

  “Don’t worry, I made it look like an accident. You know how people slip and fall in bar bathrooms?”

  That just killed some of the humor. “No, that’s not a thing.”

  “Trust me, it happens. Only this time it was an accident that was accompanied by a lecture from me and my fist. He won’t be asking random women to suck him dry anytime soon.”

  I made a face as I remembered the guy Ty was referring to. “I did not need to know the details of what he wrote.”

  Ty waved his now-dark screen in my direction. “One more text from this Jason idiot, and I’ll give him the meeting he’s asking for.”

  I put my hand on his. “I’m sorry, Ty. I thought it was funny. I won’t give anyone else your number. Don’t track this loser down. He’s not worth it.”

  “I don’t want any of these guys to hurt you, McKenna. That’s all. I told your dad we’d watch over you.” His eyes misted up.

  Then mine did. “And you have. There’s an asshole in every crowd, Ty. I just seem to attract them.”

  “You attract a variety of men, but you scare the good ones away.”

  I dropped his hand. “Good thing I’m not looking for a man, then.”

  “It’s time you start thinking about not spending so much time alone.”