I've called for a toe," she said. Her voice was clipped, professional, the kind that was used to giving orders. They said 45 minutes an hour ago. Ethan nodded toward the Jaguar. What happened?
It just died. Middle of the road, no warning. She crossed her arms and he caught the defensive shift in her stance. I don't need I can handle this. Sure.
He was already walking toward the car, pulling a small flashlight from his pocket. But it's pouring. You're stuck and I know these old Jags. If you want to wait another hour in the rain, that's your call. She didn't respond right away.
He knelt beside the driver's door, shining the light underneath the chassis, then moved to pop the hood. I don't even know you, she said. Ethan Cole. He glanced back at her. I own a repair shop.
Well, I'm trying to. And you are? A pause. Vivien. Nice to meet you, Vivien.
Now, pop the hood. He heard her huff, annoyed maybe or just cold. But then the latch clicked and the hood lifted. Ethan propped it open and shone his light across the engine. Beautiful piece of machinery, immaculately maintained.
Original parts where it mattered. When did you last drive it? This morning. It was fine. And you didn't notice anything weird?
Hesitation? Rough idle smell? Viven stepped closer. Close enough that he caught a hint of expensive perfume cutting through the rain and oil. No, it was perfect.
Then it wasn't. Ethan traced the fuel line with his fingers, checking connections. These old fuel pumps are temperamental, especially in weather like this. He straightened, rain streaming down his face. You have an umbrella in there.
Why? Because I'm about to crawl under your car, and if you hold it over me, I won't drown. For the first time, something flickered in her expression. Not quite a smile, but close. She retrieved a black umbrella from the passenger seat and held it awkwardly over him as he dropped to his back and slid beneath the Jaguar's undercarriage.
Water immediately soaked through his jeans. Cold, filthy water that probably had a decade's worth of road grime in it. Perfect. You don't have to do this, Vivien said above him. Little late for that, he aimed the flashlight at the fuel pump.
Besides, can't let a classic die on the side of the road. It's practically criminal. You restore cars when I can afford to. He found the problem. Loose connection on the fuel pump relay.