Nikoleta Sydney Bennett navigated the dark, icy roads with care as she cradled the cell phone between her chin and shoulder.
“Yeah, Papa. I know. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. I love you, too,” she said, then hit end and tossed the cell into the open purse on the seat beside her.
“Damn Alberta weather,” Sydney cursed. It figured that the one weekend in March she’d have to travel to Banff for work would be the last real winter weekend according to the radio’s weatherman. There was no enjoying it either, she reflected miserably. She had several meetings at the restaurant the following day, so it looked as if there was no skiing in the books for her.
She let out a loud yawn and fantasized about curling up in her bed back at the Fairmont Hotel. Syd was tense from the meetings she’d just finished at the Banff location of her family’s restaurant, Christou’s. The franchise hadn’t been doing as well as they had hoped and she’d spent the last few hours discussing options on how to cut costs and boost revenue. She had one more series of meetings tomorrow, as well—strategic sessions on how to get more patrons to come in and how to create more of a point of difference in the Greek restaurant market.
She tucked back a strand of dark hair that had come loose from her haphazard bun and sighed, weary, as she rounded a bend in the road. Blinking lights shone directly ahead of her and she squinted, the brightness stabbing at her eyes.
“What the…?” She hit the brakes, slowing the car.
But that did anything but slow her down, and Syd’s Ford Escape kept skating along the black ice, straight toward the big vehicle that loomed ahead.
“Oh, shit,” she yelled, pumping the brakes, knowing full well it was an exercise in futility at this point.
With a loud bang, her SUV crashed into the other vehicle and Syd’s body first jerked forward then was thrown back against the seat. She shook her head at the nice steady stream of smoke that was coming out from under her hood, watching it rise into the air and dissipate.
“Well, that’s fucking fantastic,” she groaned.
Annoyed, she grabbed her purse and pulled on her black leather gloves. She opened her door, stepping out onto the road and nearly falling flat on her face. Syd latched onto her car for dear life as her high-heeled boots slipped and slid on the icy road. “Fuck,” she swore, dangling off the door, trying to regain her footing.
A strong arm wrapped tightly around her waist, steadying her.
“Here, come stand over in the grass,” he said. “I almost died when I got out, too.”
After a couple of steps, she shook off the stranger. “This is precisely what I needed,” she mumbled.
“Are you okay? You’re not hurt, are you?” he asked, his voice filled with worry.
“No, I think I’m okay. What happened to your car? Why didn’t you pull over instead of stopping in the middle of the damn road?” She carefully navigated her way to the snow-covered shoulder.
“I wish I had time to pull over. All of a sudden the lights started flickering, and the damn thing sputtered to a stop. I tried to get it to restart, but it refused,” he said, his voice full of apology. He glanced at her car. “Looks like your radiator got trashed.”
“You think?” Syd said, rummaging through her purse for her cell phone.
“I already called roadside assistance for myself. It must have been my battery that pooched out, so while the truck is here, he can take care of your Escape at the same time. I’ll pay for the tow to the garage to get it fixed. And whatever damage is done to your car, I’ll gladly pay for the repair and the bodywork, too,” he offered. “I should’ve tried steering over toward the shoulder, damn it. Especially knowing there’s nothing but ice on the roads. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s not your fault,” Syd muttered, her anger dissolving.
His kindness was making it very difficult to be mad.
She glanced up at the stranger, whose back was turned to her while he inspected her car.
“Lucky you managed to slow at least,” he commented. “There’s not too much damage to the body. It’s mainly the bumper and that’s more often than not an easy fix.”
“Mhmm,” she murmured, continuing her silent assessment of him.
He was tall, six feet for sure. He was wearing a gray wool coat that ended mid-thigh on his long black-clad legs. Thick blond hair teased the collar of the coat and he had his hands stuffed into his pockets.
He walked over to the passenger side and peeked in the window. “How come your airbag didn’t release?”
Syd huffed. “Because that hunk of metal is an ancient piece of shit, that’s why.”
He turned around and Syd was finally able to get a good look at his face.
Well, fuck me sideways.
A giggle bubbled up inside her and, although she worked to contain it, a soft snort escaped, making her want to laugh even more.
Brow creased over piercing blue eyes, he smirked at her. “What was that?”
She quickly shook her head.
A moment later, the flashing amber lights of the roadside assistance vehicle came into view. He walked over to the truck as the technician got out. He thumbed back toward Syd’s car and the tech nodded.
He returned to her side. “So he can take your Escape to his garage if you want, and take care of the rad and get the body work done. He won’t have it ready for tomorrow, but the morning after, bright and early, it’s all yours. Does that work?” he asked.
She nodded. “Yeah, thanks for organizing all that for me.”
He smiled at her and walked back to his Cadillac Escalade. He was chatting up the technician while he worked to replace the big SUV’s battery.
Syd turned her back on the pair and made her way to a tree, one cautious step at a time. She leaned against it, crossing her ankles and folding her arms across her chest. It was unbelievable how out-of-the-blue, never-in-a-million-years things…could happen.
She could have hit anyone’s vehicle—anyone at all in Banff—and whose truck did she hit? Oh, no one but the killer band Divine Intervention’s lead guitarist and co-vocalist…that was who. He doesn’t even live here for God’s sake! She chuckled at her fortune.
“What’s so funny?” he asked as he approached her, one corner of his mouth hitched in a half smile.
“It’s nothing.” She nodded toward the tow truck driver. “Is he ready for me?”
He cocked his head at her. “Well, see, you have two choices now. You can either squeeze into the cab of that tow truck with Burly Barney over there, or, now that my truck’s functional, you can let me take you to dinner.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“As an apology,” he continued.
“An apology? I was the one who crashed into you, remember?”
He smirked. “I didn’t pull over.”
“Because your car died, something that was kind of beyond your control…”
“And if I had pulled over, you wouldn’t have crashed into me to begin with.” When she opened her mouth to counter him again he held a hand up in front of her face. “Don’t argue, you won’t win. So, dinner?”
“Um…”
“That is, if you haven’t already eaten.”
“I don’t even know you,” Syd said, trying her best to look serious. “What if you’re some kind of psychopath?”
He laughed, tossing back his head and exposing a nice, long, lick-inspiring neck.
She blocked the image from of her mind. Those thoughts would lead to nowhere good.
“Well,” he said slowly, “My name is Caleb Jones. But you already knew that, didn’t you?”
Syd was almost unable to contain a smirk and she feigned shock. “What? Why would you say that?”
He laughed again. “It’s written all over your face, darlin’.”
She blushed and tittered. “I was trying to be polite.”
“I realize that, and I truly do appreciate it.”
“I mean, I’m sure you have tons of women vying for even a second of your attention, flirting shamelessly, flinging themselves upon you…”
I’m babbling. Why am I babbling? I mean, he’s gorgeous and all, and the way his hair flops to the side and covers his eye like that is beyond sexy, and…
“You’re staring.”
“I…uh… Sorry,” Syd said, turning away, embarrassed. “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable and get gushy,” she explained, glancing over her shoulder at him. “Not that I’m the gushy type or anything.”
“Again, I appreciate it. Although coming from a pretty lady like you—I might not mind the gush so much,” he said, winking at her. “Come on, let me take you to dinner.”
She rolled her eyes. “All right, but only because I don’t have the energy to argue with you. And I’m hungry. You’re famous, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t some kind of psychopathic murderer,” she teased.
“You just never know these days, do you?” Caleb remarked, holding out his hand to her.
She placed her hand in his and allowed him to lead her to the Cadillac. The tow truck was waiting behind them, her car already hooked up. Caleb opened the passenger door for her and helped her in.
“I’m gonna need your car keys, ma’am,” the tow truck driver called out as he came toward them. “And some information, if you could.”
“Oh, right,” she answered, drawing her keys from her purse. She handed her business card to the driver. “Everything you need should be on there, but give me a call if there’s anything else you require.” She worked to wiggle her key off the ring, and added, “Would you mind telling the shop to call the Fairmont’s front desk when they’re done? You can tell them it’s for Sydney. They’ll recognize the name.”
The driver nodded and shuffled back into his truck.
“Sydney, huh?” Caleb said, flashing a smile in her direction before rounding the big truck to the driver’s side.
What are you doing, Syd?
“So, Sydney,” he drawled as he got into the car. “You have a last name?”
“Bennett,” she replied, retuning his smile.
He started the car, and, as he began driving along the dark road, he asked, “Well, Sydney Bennett, is there a man waiting for you back at the hotel who would get jealous if I took you to dinner?”
Hands folded in her lap, she fiddled with the bulge of her engagement ring through her glove before answering. “No,” she said quietly. “There’s no one.”
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