When Maya’s car breaks down in a sleepy town, the last thing she expects is to clash with the local mechanic—a gruff, closed-off man whose storm-gray eyes hide more than just grief. But as heat builds between them and buried wounds rise to the surface, she’ll have to decide if she’s brave enough to thaw a heart that’s been frozen by loss.
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The engine let out a final, tortured groan before falling silent for good.
Maya Brooks coasted her ancient Honda to the side of Mountain View's main street, steam billowing from under the hood in theatrical puffs. She sat for a moment, hands still gripping the steering wheel, and tried to summon her usual optimism. New town, fresh start, and now a broken car within an hour of arrival. The universe had a sense of humor.
Through her windshield, she could see the source of her salvation: Harrison's Auto Repair, a weathered building with two service bays and a hand-painted sign that had seen better decades. A man emerged from beneath the hood of a pickup truck, and Maya's breath caught.
He was tall—well over six feet—with broad shoulders that strained against a gray work shirt. Dark hair, slightly too long, fell across his forehead as he bent over the engine. When he straightened and wiped his hands on a rag, Maya caught sight of strong forearms dusted with dark hair and streaked with honest grease. There was something magnetic about the way he moved, economical and sure, like every gesture had purpose.
She climbed out of her car, smoothing down her sundress—a cheerful yellow thing that suddenly felt too bright, too optimistic for this moment. The afternoon sun had heated the pavement, and she could feel sweat gathering at the small of her back as she approached.
"Excuse me," she called out, offering her brightest smile. "I think my car just gave up on life."
The man looked up, and Maya felt something electric shoot through her. His eyes were the color of storm clouds, gray and intense, framed by dark lashes that should have been illegal on someone so masculine. His face was all sharp angles—strong jaw, high cheekbones, a mouth that looked like it rarely smiled. There was something raw about him, untamed, that made her pulse quicken in ways she wasn't prepared for.
He didn't return her smile. Didn't even attempt politeness.
"What's wrong with it?" His voice was rough, like whiskey and smoke, and it did something unsettling to her insides.
"Steam, strange noises, and now nothing." Maya gestured helplessly toward her car, trying to ignore how his gaze seemed to catalog every inch of her. She felt exposed under that stare, like he could see through her cheerful exterior to the messy reality underneath. "I'm Maya, by the way. Maya Brooks. I just moved here to—"
"Pop the hood."
The curt interruption should have stung, but instead Maya found herself fascinated by the way his throat moved when he spoke, the slight rasp that suggested he didn't use his voice often. She fumbled with the hood release, hyperaware of his proximity as he moved to examine the engine.
He leaned over the car, and Maya couldn't help but notice how his jeans hugged his lean hips, how the fabric of his shirt pulled tight across his back. When he reached for something deep in the engine, his shirt rode up slightly, revealing a strip of tan skin above his belt line. Maya's mouth went dry.
"Radiator hose," he said without looking at her. "Blown."
"Is that bad?" She stepped closer, ostensibly to see what he was pointing at, but really because something about his presence drew her like gravity. He smelled like motor oil and something cleaner—soap, maybe, or aftershave. Something decidedly masculine that made her want to breathe deeper.
He finally straightened and turned to face her, and Maya had to tip her head back to meet his eyes. This close, she could see the fine lines around them, the way his mouth was set in a permanent scowl. But there was something else there too, something that flickered and disappeared before she could identify it.
"It'll need to be replaced. Take a few hours."
"Oh." Maya tried not to notice how his hands looked as he wiped them clean—long fingers, calloused palms, the kind of hands that knew how to fix things. The kind that would feel rough against soft skin. "Well, that's fine. I'm not in any rush."
He stared at her for a long moment, those storm-gray eyes searching her face like he was trying to solve a puzzle. Maya felt heat climb her neck under his scrutiny, and not just from the summer sun.
"You're the new librarian," he said finally. It wasn't a question.
"Guilty." She tried another smile, hoping to crack that stern expression. "Word travels fast here."
"Small town." He turned away, dismissing her, and started walking toward the garage. Maya found herself watching the way he moved, the confident swagger that spoke of a man comfortable in his own skin. There was something almost predatory about it that made her pulse skip.
"What's your name?" she called after him.
He paused at the entrance to the garage, glanced back. "Cole."
"Cole." She tested the name, liked the way it felt on her tongue. "Thank you for helping me, Cole."
Something flickered across his features—surprise, maybe, or something warmer—but it was gone before she could be sure. He disappeared into the garage without another word, leaving Maya standing alone in the afternoon heat, her heart racing for reasons that had nothing to do with car trouble.
She walked the three blocks to the library, trying to shake off the strange encounter. But she couldn't stop thinking about those intense gray eyes, the way his voice had roughened when he said her name. There had been something electric in the air between them, a tension that felt dangerous and thrilling in equal measure.
The Pine Ridge Library was a small brick building with tall windows and the kind of charm that made Maya's heart sing. She unlocked the door with the key the mayor had given her, breathing in the familiar scent of old books and furniture polish. This was her sanctuary, her fresh start. A place where she could heal from the wreckage of her last relationship and maybe find herself again.
But as she toured the single main room, running her fingers along the spines of well-worn novels, her mind kept drifting back to Cole. The way his shirt had stretched across his chest when he'd reached into her engine. The rough timbre of his voice. The careful way he'd avoided touching her, even when they'd been standing close enough to share breath.
She'd come to Pine Ridge to escape complications, to find peace in small-town simplicity. The last thing she needed was to develop an inconvenient attraction to the local grouch—especially one who looked at her like she was something potentially dangerous.
But Maya had always been drawn to puzzles, and Cole Harrison was definitely that. Behind all that gruffness, she'd sensed something else. Pain, maybe. Loneliness. The kind of deep hurt that made a person build walls so high they forgot what sunshine felt like.
She spent the afternoon organizing returned books and familiarizing herself with the catalog system, but her attention kept wandering to the window. Each time a truck rumbled past, her pulse would quicken, hoping to catch another glimpse of the man who'd managed to unsettle her so completely with just a few gruff words and one searing look.
By evening, dark clouds had gathered over the mountains, promising one of those sudden summer storms that turned afternoon heat into electric anticipation. Maya locked up the library and walked back toward the garage, telling herself she was just checking on her car.
Cole was alone in the garage, bent over her Honda's engine with a focused intensity that made her stomach flutter. He'd removed his work shirt, and she could see the play of muscles across his back as he worked, the way sweat glistened on his skin in the fluorescent light. A tattoo wrapped around his left shoulder—something dark and intricate that she couldn't make out from this distance.
Thunder rumbled overhead, and the first fat raindrops began to fall.
"How's it looking?" she asked, raising her voice over the approaching storm.
Cole straightened, turning to face her, and Maya's breath caught. Without the barrier of his shirt, she could see the full scope of his physicality—the broad chest dusted with dark hair, the defined abs that spoke of manual labor rather than gym vanity. There was a scar along his ribs, thin and white, that made her wonder what stories his body could tell.
"Almost done," he said, his voice rougher than before. His eyes moved over her face, lingering on her mouth in a way that made heat pool low in her belly. "You should get inside. Storm's coming."
As if summoned by his words, the sky opened up. Rain poured down in sheets, drumming against the garage roof and sending spray through the open bay doors. Maya laughed, spreading her arms wide and tipping her face up to catch the drops.
"I love storms," she said, spinning in the sudden downpour. "There's something wild about them, don't you think? Like the sky can't contain itself anymore."
When she looked back at Cole, he was staring at her with an expression she couldn't read. Something hot and hungry that made her pulse race. Her sundress was already clinging to her skin, the thin fabric molding to her curves in ways that left little to imagination. She should have felt self-conscious, should have crossed her arms or stepped back into the shelter of the garage.
Instead, she took a step toward him.
"Maya." Her name was a warning on his lips, rough and strained.
"What?" she asked innocently, taking another step. Rain streamed down her face, her hair hanging in wet tendrils around her shoulders. She could see the way his jaw clenched, the way his hands fisted at his sides like he was fighting some internal battle.
Lightning split the sky, illuminating the garage in stark white relief, and in that moment Maya saw something crack in Cole's carefully maintained control. He moved toward her with predatory grace, closing the distance between them in two long strides.
"You don't know what you're doing," he said, his voice barely audible over the storm.
"Don't I?" Maya tilted her chin up, meeting his intense gaze. She was close enough now to see the rapid rise and fall of his chest, to feel the heat radiating from his skin despite the cool rain. "Maybe I know exactly what I'm doing."
Cole's hand lifted, almost involuntarily, and Maya's breath hitched as his fingers hovered just inches from her cheek. She could see the war playing out in his expression—want battling with something darker, need fighting against what looked like guilt.
The moment stretched between them, electric and dangerous, full of promise and threat in equal measure. Maya felt like she was standing on the edge of a cliff, one step away from falling into something that would change everything.
Thunder crashed overhead, and Cole's control finally snapped.
His hand cupped her face, thumb brushing across her rain-wet cheek with devastating gentleness. His touch was warm and slightly rough, exactly as she'd imagined, and Maya couldn't suppress the small sound that escaped her throat.
"You should run," he whispered, his mouth so close to hers that she could feel his breath against her lips. "You should run and never look back."
"I'm not running anywhere," Maya breathed, her hands coming up to rest against his chest. His skin was fever-warm under her palms, his heart hammering against her touch. "Not from you."
Cole's eyes darkened, storm-gray shifting to something deeper and more dangerous. His other hand slid around her waist, pulling her against him until they were pressed together from chest to thigh. Maya could feel every hard line of his body, the tension coiled in his muscles, the way he trembled slightly as he fought for restraint.
"Maya," he said again, her name a plea and a curse all at once.
She rose on her toes, bringing her mouth within a breath of his, and felt him shudder against her. The rain continued to pour around them, creating a curtain of privacy in the open garage, and Maya thought dimly that she'd never wanted anything as much as she wanted this man to kiss her.
Cole's thumb traced along her jawline, his touch reverent and desperate, and Maya felt something deep inside her chest crack open. Not just desire—though there was plenty of that—but something more dangerous. Recognition. Like her soul had been waiting for this moment, this man, without her even knowing it.
"Please," she whispered, not entirely sure what she was asking for.
Cole's control finally shattered completely. His mouth crashed down on hers, hard and hungry and desperate, and Maya felt her world tilt on its axis. He kissed her like he was drowning and she was air, like he'd been holding back a dam that had finally burst. His hands tangled in her wet hair, angling her head to deepen the kiss, and Maya melted against him with a soft moan that was lost in the storm.
But just as suddenly as it had begun, Cole wrenched himself away. He stepped back so abruptly that Maya stumbled, her lips swollen and her breathing ragged. The loss of his heat left her cold despite the warm rain.
"This can't happen," he said, his voice harsh and broken. His hands were shaking as he ran them through his hair, and Maya could see the wild pulse beating at his throat. "This can't—I can't—"
"Cole—"
"Your car's ready," he said, cutting her off. He turned away, presenting her with the rigid line of his back, muscles still taut with tension. "Keys are on the counter."
Maya stood there for a long moment, rain still streaming down her face, tasting him on her lips and trying to process what had just happened. The kiss had been everything she'd imagined and more—desperate and passionate and absolutely electric. But the way he'd pulled away, the tortured look in his eyes...
There was more to Cole Harrison's story than small-town grumpiness. Something deeper and more painful that made him push away the very thing he clearly wanted.
As she walked to the counter to collect her keys, Maya caught sight of a photograph tucked behind the register. A woman with kind eyes and a warm smile, her arms wrapped around a younger version of Cole—one who looked happy, carefree, whole.
Understanding hit her like a physical blow. The careful distance. The guilt in his eyes. The way he'd whispered "I can't" like it was tearing him apart.
Cole Harrison wasn't just grumpy.
He was grieving.
And Maya Brooks, with her sunshine optimism and her inappropriate attraction to broken things, had just stumbled into the middle of his carefully constructed hell.
Thunder crashed overhead, and Maya clutched her keys tighter, her heart breaking for a man she barely knew and wanting him anyway—maybe even more because of his pain.
This was going to be everything she hadn't planned on—and exactly what they both needed.