For the first time, I noticed how beautiful her eyes were.
Deep brown.
Expressive.
And strangely familiar.
She reached into her handbag.
“What do I owe you?”
“Nothing.”
Her smile disappeared.
“Excuse me?”
“Just a loose terminal.”
“But you drove here.”
“Three blocks.”
“And you fixed my car.”
“About two minutes of work.”
She stared at me.
I closed the hood.
“Consider it a good start to your morning.”
For several seconds, she said nothing.
Then she looked down at her handbag.
“People don't usually do that.”
I smiled.
“People usually have broken cars.”
She laughed.
But the laughter faded quickly.
She looked at me with that searching expression again.
Then asked, “Can I at least bring you coffee sometime?”
I hesitated.
There were three cars waiting at the garage.
A radiator job.
A Mustang restoration.
And a pickup that had developed an electrical problem nobody wanted to diagnose.
I should have said no.
Or thanked her and given her a business card.
Instead, I heard myself answer.
“Sure.”
Her face brightened.
“Really?”
“I'm at the garage most mornings.”
She smiled.
“Then I'll find you.”
I nodded.
“Drive carefully.”
She climbed into the Camaro.
Before closing the door, she looked toward me again.
“Caleb?”
“Yeah?”
For a moment, she seemed about to say something important.
Then she shook her head.
“Thank you.”
I smiled.
“You're welcome.”
She drove away.
I watched the blue Camaro disappear into traffic.
Then stood beside my truck for several seconds, trying to understand why I felt as though I had just encountered somebody I should have known.
When I returned to the garage, Marcus was waiting.
“Well?”
“Battery terminal.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“How much?”
I shook my head.
“Don't start.”
Marcus groaned.