Red Truck Rendezvous

Pablo had been on a slow burn.
Portia’s grin brightened. It was rather inconvenient that Sweetie had decided to break down now, but she couldn’t feel too bad about where she had landed.  She had a beautiful place to park the camper, she was near all of the things she had wanted to see on this trip, and best of all, she had a very handsome mechanic to torment for as long as it took to get the truck up and running.
Pressing the pedal to the floor as she shot off the bridge, Portia felt the rumble flow from her feet to the top of her head, and the warm vibration sent a shiver down her spine that felt all too much like the ones she felt when Pablo took her hand.

Chapter 10
The deep throaty rumble of a well-tuned muscle car, a sound that had once inspired awe, made Pablo groan. He had most of Sweetie’s engine back together, no mean fete, and had painstakingly, painted each exposed part with great care, but it still wasn’t complete. It had taken days to reach this point.
He didn’t even want to think about the headache the transmission was going to be, and Portia popping in every day to lean over his shoulder, or pepper him with questions wasn’t helping at all.
“Pablo!” Portia’s cheerful voice echoed in the barn. “How’s it going?”
Before he could hide in his office, pretending to take a phone call, the woman was at his side, examining the nearly finished work of art. The old inline V6 engine had cleaned up well, and with rebuilt parts, new seals, and fresh hoses, it looked almost as good as new.
“Oh!” Portia stopped in her tracks, gaping at the black and red flat head in wonder. “It looks amazing. Sweetie should sing like an angel once we put that in her.”
“Don’t sound so surprised,” Pablo grumbled. “I told you I could do it.” He was tired, cranky, and hating how much he was attracted to the annoying Portia.
“I knew you could,” Portia turned wide aqua eyes on him, forgetting she was supposed to tweak his nose at every chance. The handsome mechanic had done a remarkable job, not only on the engine but also in providing her with a beautiful place to stay while the work was being done.
As the days had dragged into nearly two weeks, she had come to appreciate the unexpected accommodation she was calling home. If Sweetie hadn’t broken down when she did, Portia would have missed this gem of a camping location.
“Thanks, but we still have a problem.” Pablo looked up, meeting her lustrous eyes. For a heartbeat, time seemed to stand still, and he found himself lost in their shimmering depths.
“The transmission?” Portia mumbled her eyes never leaving his. A blue barn swallow swooped between them, winging for the open door and breaking the spell, but the feeling still hung in the air, like the threat of heat lightning on a summer night.
“Yes, the transmission.” Pablo could hear the defeat in his voice but shook himself out of the blue mood. “I’m just not finding the parts I need. Bob has never let me down yet, but he can’t find them.”
Portia took a few steps closer, her body swaying with each slow, confident stride. “Buy another truck.” The words popped out of her mouth as if they were that simple.
“What?” Pablo lifted his eyes back to her face, shocked at the serious expression she wore.
“Buy another truck. We’ll keep it for spare parts. We use the other truck for spare parts and get Sweetie back on the road. I’ll even let you keep whatever’s leftover.” Portia grinned, happy at her thought. Perhaps it was time to stop harassing Pablo and help instead.
“You’re serious.”
“I am. I want this truck on the road. I want my rig to be eye-catching and fun. So far, you’ve proven you are capable of the engine work, so let’s go all in.”
“Where am I supposed to find a spare 1942 Ford pickup truck?”
Portia’s smile was feral, sending shivers of delight down Pablo’s spine. “Online, of course, and I know just where to start.” The woman pulled her phone out of the pocket of her perfectly cut cut-off shorts, tugging the tied ends of her red and white polka-dot shirt back in place as she poked at the screen. “You go on with what you’re doing, I’ll find us something sweet.”
Pablo worked on refitting the engine, checking every detail with the schematics sketch and owner’s manual he had found online for the Ford.  As he worked, he was keenly aware of Portia taking up residence on a tall stool on the other side of the work area. For once, the woman was blessedly quiet and instead of finding her annoying, irascible, and persnickety, a sense of companionship, even partnership, seemed to blossom between them. They were each busy with their own tasks as they worked together to restore the old truck. After nearly two weeks of constant squabbling over when, why, and how to put the engine together, they were finally on the same side.
“Done,” Pablo said, stretching to straighten his spine.
“I found one!” Portia jumped off her stool, running to him and throwing her arms around his neck in a startling hug. “Look,” she lifted her phone, pointing at the battered remnants of an old truck.
“It has trees growing out of the bed,” Pablo mumbled, still shaken from the momentary embrace.
“Don’t worry about that,” Portia’s delighted tones brushed all doubts away. “I’ll get those cleaned out fast enough. Who should I call to bring it here? It’s only a few hours away. See?”
Pablo reached for the phone, turning Portia’s hand under his so he could see it better. The smooth, silky skin under his was cool to the touch and so soft he almost lost track of his purpose.
“It’s down in Oxford,” Pablo turned, meeting Portia’s bright eyes again. He was so close he could feel her breath against his