The Hot New Bachelor in Town (Welcome to Kiss County #1)

Chapter 1

1

CARTER

“ A re you serious?” I ask.

The mechanic looks me over, no doubt eying my expensive suit and wondering just how much cash he can squeeze out of me.

“Yes,” he says.

Over his shoulder, his tow truck slowly lifts the front of my car, a bit of smoke still seeping out from under the hood.

“You don’t understand,” I say, checking my watch. “I have to be in Big City by two o’clock.”

He chortles. “Well, you’ll be late.”

“How late?”

“Don’t know. Won’t know ‘til I get it back to the shop and have one of the guys take a look at it.”

I deflate. “Can’t you look at it now?”

“Not my area. I just tow.”

“You just tow?”

He nods as he wipes a bit of dirt on his navy blue jumpsuit beneath a logo that reads Small Town Towing.

Well, shit.

I check my watch. It’s nearly noon already. There’s no way I’ll make this meeting in time.

Of all the days to be late. It had to be this one.

All the years I’ve spent building my professional reputation and it could all come crashing down here in...

I glare at the large road sign across the street.

Welcome to Kiss County.

Where people fall in love!

Yeah, right.

Who has time for that?

I spend the ride into Small Town sending off a few emails, hoping my prospective client is in a good mood today. Luckily, as we roll through town, the man’s secretary replies with a kind-worded email, happy to move my appointment from two to three — but no later.

Mr. Stacks is eagerly looking forward to your arrival.

I relax a little at that, my ego sufficiently stroked.

At the auto shop, I sit in one of only two chairs in the waiting room — the other one only has three legs — and wait for the mechanic to come out and update me.

“Busted,” he says as he wipes his greasy hands on an even greasier cloth.

“What’s busted?”

“I can fix her, though.”

“Okay,” I say, feeling as if I’m talking to a wall. “How long will that take?”

“An hour.”

“An hour?” I repeat, hopeful. I check the time. It’s nearly two now. If the car is done by three, I can probably make it to Big City by four — if I break a few speeding laws along the way.

He turns around as if the conversation is over. “I’ll holler at ya when it’s done.”

“Wait, wait,” I say, not wanting to spend another minute in this cramped room. “Is there a place to get something to eat nearby?”

He pauses and glances out the window, though I’m not sure what he’s looking at since the glass hasn’t been cleaned in weeks. Months, probably. “We got a diner,” he says.

“Okay. Where’s that?”

He points outside. “Down that-a way. Across the square on the corner. Bruno’s. Can’t miss it.”

I grab my suitcase and jacket off the back of my chair, eager to leave. “Thanks. Please call my cell the moment the car is ready.”

He says nothing. He looks me up and down, a smirk forming on the edge of his mouth.

“What?” I ask.

He chuckles dryly. “You’ll be popular,” he says.

I have no idea what he means by that, nor do I get the chance to ask as he rushes back into his shop, his laughter continuing.