92 Pacific Boulevard - Debbie Macomber [82]
Linc started to move away from the vehicle. “When’s the last time you gassed up?”
Her brow furrowed. “You think I might be out of gas?”
“Let me get in and see.” The woman seemed incapable of clear thought. Linc slid into the driver’s seat and turned the key. Sure enough, the needle pointed to empty.
Apparently she was going through some sort of emotional breakdown. Lucky him that he’d stumbled onto her path. This was what he got for playing the Good Samaritan. No good deed goes unpunished, and all that.
The woman slipped into the passenger seat next to him and shut the door. She began to tremble with what he assumed was the effort not to weep. “I’m so sorry. You’re being kind and I’m being hysterical. How stupid of me not to know I’d run out of gas.” She closed her eyes and lowered her head.
“It happens to the best of us,” Linc said in what he hoped was a comforting tone.
She turned to him with her nose red and her eyes swimming with tears. “Do you ever feel that nothing you do is right?” she asked him.
Despite the fact that he felt as if he’d stepped into the middle of a soap opera, Linc nodded.
“Me, too.”
This was becoming awkward. “I have a gas can in the back of my truck,” he said, eager now to be on his way. “I’ll drive to a gas station—pick up a couple of gallons. That should be enough to get you wherever you’re going.”
“You’re leaving me here?”
“Uh…Do you want to come with me?”
“Could I?”
Linc’s mind darted in ten different directions at once. He couldn’t believe he’d offered, any more than he could believe she’d asked.
To avoid wearing down her battery, he turned off the ignition and passed her the car keys.
“My name is Lori Bellamy,” she said and held out her hand.
He shook it, almost shocked by the softness of her skin against his calloused fingers. “Linc Wyse.”
“Hi, Linc.”
“Hi.” The awkwardness returned, the same unease he experienced whenever he was around women, especially petite ones. Small women like Lori made him feel clumsy and…too big. Linc moved carefully and spoke quietly, not wanting to overwhelm or frighten her.
He got out of her car, hurried to his truck and cleared off the passenger seat.
Once she’d clambered inside—with his assistance—she snapped the seat belt into place and smiled over at him. “Are you always this kind?”
“I have a sister,” he said. “If her car had broken down I’d want someone like me to stop and help.”
He started the engine and merged with the traffic. They sat in silence as he drove, but it wasn’t uncomfortable anymore, nor did he feel the need to make conversation. After a couple of minutes, she murmured, “You’re very easy to talk to.”
“Me?” he asked, startled.
She nodded. “You listened patiently even though I was saying the most ridiculous things.”
“Like what?”
She grimaced. “About Geoff. You stopped to help with my car—not to hear about the shambles my life’s in.”
“Sometimes it’s good to talk to a stranger.” Linc didn’t know that for a fact, but it made sense.
“Well, I certainly didn’t mean to blurt out the most humiliating details of my life.” She gave a short, embarrassed laugh. “My car running out of gas just seems to confirm that my life’s in a downward spiral.” She shrugged despondently. “I guess Geoff proved that I don’t have very good judgment about men.”
Linc grinned. “Then we’re equal. Because when it comes to male-female relationships I’m at a complete loss.” Feeling emboldened, deciding to take a chance, he took his eyes from the road long enough to look in her direction. “Would you like to have dinner with me?”
“Tonight?”
“Ah…sure.” Actually, any night would be fine with him. It wasn’t as if he had a calendar crammed with social events. “Tonight would work,” he said in an offhand way.
“Okay, but only if you let me treat, seeing all the trouble you’ve gone to on my behalf.”
He hesitated, afraid he was about to ruin the most promising encounter to come along in the past few years. “Sorry, I can’t do that. It’s not how my daddy raised me,” he added, trying to