Zoe checked out, settled the bill, and went back to her car, which she’d repacked with her stuff. The car wouldn’t start.
“C’mon, don’t do this to me.” It took the usual amount of notice of this plea. “You bastard.” She popped the hood and got out to raise it and take a look. She’d learned to make some repairs herself, when traveling around. Eloise had said she was très pratique. Gary had taught her even more over the past few months, until she thought she could get a job as at least a junior auto mechanic. She bent over the engine scowling at it.
“I am so tired of your bull, you piece of—”
“You need a hand?”
She’d expected the words, but probably from a guy, one for whom the sight of a lady peering at a car engine brought out his white knight complex. But it was Lorna, in that great b
