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.
Probably vibrated free. Simple fix. Mostly, I keep other people's cars running long enough that they can afford the real repairs. That's depressing. Ethan laughed, surprised.
Yeah, it really is. He tightened the connection with his fingers, testing it twice to make sure it held. The rain was relentless, turning the ground beneath him into a shallow stream, but Vivien kept the umbrella steady. Her heels were probably ruined. He'd have felt bad about it if she'd seemed like the type to care.
"Try starting it now," he called out. She hesitated. He felt it more than saw it. Then moved toward the driver's seat. A moment later, the engine turned over, coughed once, then caught, purring like it had never stopped.
Ethan slid out from under the car and stood, wiping mud from his hands onto his jeans. Vivien was staring at the dashboard like she didn't quite believe it. How did you? She looked up at him, genuinely confused. The tow company said I'd need to have it transported to a shop.
Yeah, because they get paid more that way. He closed the hood, latching it carefully. It was just a loose relay. Happens with older cars, especially British ones. They like to keep you guessing.
Viven stepped out of the car, umbrella still in hand, and for a long moment, she just looked at him. Rain dripped from his hair, his shirt was plastered to his chest, and he was pretty sure there was mud on his face. "What do I owe you? " she asked. "Nothing. " "That's not I was driving past. Took me 5 minutes. " Ethan shrugged, suddenly aware of how cold he was.