“No.”
“Smell?”
“Hot metal.”
He reached down.
“Don't start it.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“That wasn't criticism.”
Alexandra folded her arms.
“I know.”
He looked at her.
She realized her voice had made it sound exactly like she thought it was.
Something passed through his expression.
He returned to the engine.
Alexandra exhaled.
“You can criticize me if I deserve it.”
“I usually charge extra.”
That surprised a laugh out of her.
The sound felt strange.
She had not laughed all day.
The man glanced toward her again.
There was something about his eyes.
Not flirtation.
Not calculation.
Simply awareness.
He reached deeper into the engine.
“Connector’s loose.”
“Is that bad?”
“It’s good.”
“It doesn’t look good.”
“It means you probably don’t need a tow.”
Alexandra looked at the empty road.
“That would be extremely good.”
He walked back toward his pickup.
Alexandra followed him with her eyes.
The passenger side windows were tinted by age and dust.
She thought she saw movement inside.
A child perhaps.
The man opened a toolbox mounted behind the cab.
He selected two tools.
When he returned, Alexandra said, “You have someone with you?”
“My daughter.”
“How old?”
“Eight.”
Alexandra’s body reacted before her mind did.
A tightening in the chest.
Small.
Immediate.
Eight.
She looked away.
The man did not seem to notice.
He crouched beside the front wheel, then reached under the open hood.
Alexandra moved closer.
“What's your name?”
“Ethan.”
“Ethan what?”
He looked up.
“Cole.”
“Alexandra Vale.”
His hand stopped.
Only for a fraction of a second.
Alexandra noticed.
People recognized her sometimes.
More frequently since Vale Meridian became one of the country’s largest biomedical manufacturing companies.
Her face had appeared on business magazines.
Financial television.
Conference programs.
Not celebrity.
Recognition nonetheless.
Ethan’s reaction felt different.
Not admiration.
Not surprise at wealth.
Recognition mixed with something that resembled fear.
“Do I know you?”
she asked.
“No.”
The answer came too quickly.
Alexandra studied him.
“You knew my name.”
“I’ve seen it.”
“Where?”
“News.”
He turned toward the engine.
That should have ended it.
It did not.
Alexandra had spent fifteen years negotiating with people who believed facial expressions were private.
Ethan was hiding something.
She did not know what.
She also did not care enough yet to press.
The road was growing colder.
“Are you from around here?”
she asked.
“Cedar Ridge.”
“Is that close?”
“Twenty minutes.”
“Mechanic?”
“Used to work full-time at a garage.”
“Now?”
“I maintain equipment for a mountain lodge and take repair work when people ask.”
“Single dad?”
Ethan looked at her.
Alexandra immediately regretted the question.