Pressing down on the breaks, the truck slowed, the roaring of the wind dying as the heat pressed in past it through the open windows. The asphalt burned and heat rose in waves. The air was dead still, not so much as breath of wind. Forty yards ahead, the Mercedes red hide gleamed in the sun, and Houlihan eyed it with equal parts curiosity and suspicion.

No cars in her mirrors, she sidled up beside the red piece of metal money and idled to a halt in the road. The front left tire was the one that gave out, leaving half its rubber a quarter mile back. A man kneeled between it and the road methodically loosening lugs, and Houlihan watched the back of a stiff collared white shirt plastering to his back with sweat. When he realized she wasn’t just a passerby and twisted round to look, she saw the front was just as soaked. Curiosity won out, and she decided to take pity on the poor bastard.

“Need a hand there?” She put on her best Texan drawl and smile for him, grinning all the more when he noticed the curl in her lip and sharp edge to her otherwise pleasant tone and narrowed his eyes. Pretty brown eyes that next to immediately clocked the 22 racked above the backseat. Nonetheless, he brought a knee up ( Mercy help the man, he was wearing kakis dress slacks) and propped an elbow on it, turning the wrench in his hands as he tipped his head back.

“Do you have a phone with signal?” he asked in such a deep, smooth voice and clear annunciation that it had Houlihan weary. She huffed.

“No, but a I got two hands which is what I offered you. We sure as shit don’t have a tow truck.” Without waiting for his reaction or response, she let off the breaks and lurched forward, easing onto the dirt and parking. She killed the engine, grabbed her hat and got out, feeling the sun like an abrupt slag to the face. She approached, a lilt in her gate from the weight of her 45. on her hip.

He hadn’t changed position, just turned his head to keep his eyes on her. A foot and a half away, she stopped, arms crossed, jerked her chin at the mess of a tire.

“Want me to work on that a minute?” He looked at her from under heavy furrowed brows, and finally snorted derisively and held out the wrench.

“By all means.”

Flashing a grin she wasn’t sure came across as nice, Houlihan grabbed the wrench and got to work. In a long life of living on unpaved roads and potholed, uneven highways, changing tires was old hat. And yes, she got just as sweated up as he did, but she halved the time it would have taken him, and it was doubly faster with having an extra set of hands to get the spare and lift it on.

Both on their their knees, each with a handful of lugs to thread before switching to the wrench. Side by side, Houlihan could feel the heat coming off him, and smell him too. She wasn’t any better off, particularly since she’s was coming off cattle work when she ran across him. He didn’t seem bothered, more relaxed now that she’d lost the mocking air and wasn’t here just to see what kind of spectacle he’d make of himself. And if Houlihan was honest with herself, she wasn’t as leery now either. If he’d wanted to jump her, or try to, he’d had plenty of chances. He didn’t, just helped when it was needed or got out the way when that was the better option.

Going back and forth to tighten the bolts, Houlihan finally paused. She wiped sweat from her face, smearing her cheek with dirt. She held out her other hand.

“My names Lucy Houlihan by the way.” He smiled, genuinely, and took her hand.

“Sidney Grisome, pleasure to meet you Miss Houlihan.” She leaned back on her calves, letting her hand drop to her thigh.

“I’m from round here, but I can tell you’re not.” It was half question, half statement. He sighed, pushing his hair back. It was about the same color and length as her own. His mouth turned up ruefully and he cast his eyes up from under his lashes.

“California.”

“Of course you are.” But she was laughing, and after a moment, he was too.