Bridesmaid Says, ''I Do!''

‘No need. It won’t take long.’

‘That’s awfully kind of you.’ Holding out the wheel thingamajig, she hoped her saviour didn’t get grease on his clothes.

Clearly not sharing her concern for his pristine trousers, he hunkered down beside the wheel and began working smoothly and efficiently.

Nice hands, Zoe noticed. He was nice all over, actually. Tall and muscular. Not too lean, not too beefy. She suppressed a little sigh, and told herself she was a fool to feel fluttery over the first country fellow she met. Before this wedding was over she’d meet tons of cute rural guys.

But there was something special about this man, something totally entrancing about the warmth in his brown eyes and the quirk of his smile, a subtle something that made her heart dance and her insides shimmy.

Strange she could feel so much when all his attention was focused on her car’s rear wheel.

‘Now for the spare.’ Having loosened the wheel, he was standing up again, and he glanced Zoe’s way.

Their gazes linked and.

He went very still. And a new kind of intensity came into his eyes. He stared at Zoe … as if he’d had a shock, a pleasant, yet deeply disturbing shock.

Trapped in his gaze, she could feel her face glowing hot as a bonfire, and she was struck by the weirdest sense that she and this helpful stranger were both experiencing the same awesome rush. Deep tremors—happy and scary at once—as if they had been connected on an invisible wavelength.

This can’t be what I think it is.

Back to earth, Zoe.

She realised that the stranger was frowning now and looking upset. Or was he angry? It was hard to tell. His brow was deeply furrowed and he dropped his gaze to the ground and his throat worked as he stared at a dried mud puddle.

Zoe held her breath, unable to speak or even think, and yet incredibly aware that something beyond the ordinary had happened.

Then her rescuer blinked and shook his head, as if he was ridding himself of an unwanted thought. He cleared his throat. ‘Ah—the spare tyre. I guess it’s in the boot?’

Turning away from Zoe, he made his way to the back of the car, skilfully stepping between the scattered pieces of luggage.

‘I’m sorry,’ Zoe spluttered, struggling to shake off the unsettling spell that seemed to have gripped her. ‘I should have fetched the spare tyre and had it ready for you.’

‘No worries.’ He spoke casually enough, but when he looked back at her he still seemed upset, as if she’d done something wrong. But then, without warning, he smiled.

His smile was warm and friendly again, and once more Zoe was electrified. Instantly. Ridiculously. She found herself conjuring a picture of him in a farmhouse kitchen, smiling that same yummy smile across the breakfast table at her, after a night of delicious lovemaking.

Good grief. Next minute she’d be imagining him naked.

Could he guess?

‘Excuse me.’

His voice roused her. Blushing, she stepped out of his way as he carried the new wheel and hefted it into position. But, heaven help her, she was mesmerised by the strength of his shoulders and the sureness of his hands as he lined up the wheel as if it weighed no more than a cardboard button, and fitted it into place.

‘You’ve done this before,’ she said.

‘So many times, I could do it in my sleep.’

*********

Zoe wasn’t sure it was wise to let her mind wander in the direction of this man’s sleep. Better to keep the talk flowing.

She said, ‘I’ve watched my dad change tyres on country roads enough times. I should have picked up a few more clues.’

He looked up at her, clearly surprised. ‘Which country roads? You’re not from around here, are you?’

‘No. My parents were in a band and they toured all around the various country shows.’ She hoped any resentment she felt for those nomadic gypsy years hadn’t crept into her voice.

‘Which band?’ he asked, pausing in the middle of tightening a nut.

‘Lead the Way.’

‘You’re joking.’

Laughing, Zoe shook her head. ‘No, I’m afraid I’m serious.’

‘Were both your parents in Lead the Way?’

‘Yep. My dad was the lead singer and my mum was on drums.’

‘So you’re Mick Weston’s daughter?’

‘His one and only.’ It wasn’t an admission Zoe needed to make very often. Since she’d started work in the city she’d hardly met anyone who’d heard of her parents or their band.

‘Amazing.’ To her surprise, he threw his head back and laughed. ‘Wait till I tell my old man. He’s a huge fan of Mick Weston. Never missed a Lead the Way performance in Willara.’

Fancy that. Zoe beamed at him. It was heartening to be reminded that her dad had been very popular out here.

But, heavens, now she and this stranger had something in common and she found herself liking him more than was sensible. Perhaps encouraging conversation wasn’t such a bright idea.

She busied herself with securing the punctured tyre in the boot and restowing all the bits and pieces of luggage.

By the time she’d finished, her good Samaritan was removing the jack. ‘That’s done,’ he said, straightening and dusting off his hands.

‘Thank you so much. It’s incredibly kind of you. I really am very grateful.’ And just a little sad that we’ll have to say goodbye now …

He stood with his feet apart, hands resting lightly on his hips, watching her with an enigmatic smile. ‘What about you?’ he asked. ‘Do you sing or play the guitar?’

‘’Fraid not.’ Zoe returned his smile—seemed her face was permanently set in smile mode. ‘The musical genes totally bypassed me.’

‘But you inherited your dad’s talent for flat tyres on country roads.’

‘Yes … unfortunately.’

Wow. Instead of rushing off, he was making conversation with her. And Zoe loved it. She was no longer bothered that he was a stranger. She was too busy enjoying this amazing experience—the most awesome sensation of being swept high and pumped full of excitement, as if she were riding a magnificent, shining wave.

Were her feet still touching the ground?