Red Truck Rendezvous

truck would never be the same. All of her father’s doubts and worries about having Pablo restore the truck had come washing back in, and she had fled.
Grabbing a quick shower, and dressing in skinny jeans and a white shirt, the young woman tied a red kerchief around her hair and stiffened her spine. She would go and get the truck. For better or worse, Pablo had done the work she had asked for, and now it was time to pay the piper. If she couldn’t live with the result, she could always sell the 1942 Ford and start over, even though the thought made her heart drop to her shoes as guilt tugged at her middle. She hadn’t been fair to Pablo.
Flicking the empty ice-cream containers into the trash, she tidied her little house on wheels and determined to face the music. She would get Sweetie put back together, pay Pablo, and move on.
Even as she thought it, the idea of walking out of the young mechanics life saddened her, and Portia wondered why. She recognized her attraction for Pablo, and it had been fun giving him such a hard time at the garage, but during that time, something else had been growing. An admiration, a friendship that she had all but betrayed with her behavior a few days ago.
Checking her appearance in her mirror, Portia grabbed her keys, determined to make amends, and started for the door. She had just laid her hands on the door latch when the distinctive hoot-hoot of an old car horn filled the air.
***
Pablo jumped out of the truck, determined to stay confident. The old pickup looked amazing in a blazing new coat of red paint that glistened in the afternoon sun. The black wheel wells were a nice contrast to the rest of the truck, highlighting the sloping fenders and making the truck look beefier than it was.
As a crowd began to gather around the classic auto, Pablo saw Portia step out of her camper and stop, staring at the truck with wonder in her eyes.
“Ms. Princeton,” he started. “I thought you might like to see the finished product.” The echo of her words a few days earlier still rang in his wounded heart.
“She looks amazing!” Portia looked between the mechanic and his handy work. Where she had feared the personality and soul of her classic truck had been lost, Sweetie looked like she had been given a new lease on life. Instead of looking like a cold, impersonal, mechanical device, that same flare and personality that had drawn Portia to the truck in the first place seemed to overflow.
Pablo dangled the keys from thumb and forefinger, offering her a drive. “Shall we take it for a spin?”
Portia raced for the truck, barely able to contain her excitement as Pablo opened the door, letting her slide onto the black calfskin bench seat.
Pablo jumped into the passenger seat, his ears and eyes tuned to any trouble. He didn’t need Portia to find anything to complain about. He had finished the work, and he knew that once she was satisfied, he could collect his fee and go back to the way things had been.
“I can’t believe this,” Portia sighed, easing the truck through the gaping crowd. “I never imagined you’d make her look so good.”
Pablo’s heart sank. Portia still couldn’t believe that he had been able to pull this off, and in record time to boot.
“I am a fully licensed and qualified mechanic, you know.” His words were harsh as they rolled out onto the main road. “This is not my first rebuild. I told you I could do it, and I did.”
Portia heard the bite in Pablo’s voice and knew how much she had hurt him with her outburst from a few days ago. She should never have let her father cause her to doubt the man she had entrusted her truck to. She should have believed in the man who had become as close to a friend as she had.
Shifting gears, she pressed the gas pedal harder, reveling in the hearty purr of the truck's engine. She had been up and down this road so many times over the past few weeks as she explored the northern reaches of Michigan, Mackinac Island, and the UP that every turning was familiar.
Seeing the turn, she wanted Portia twisted the wheel, skidding the truck onto a long winding dirt road.

Chapter 18
Pablo gripped the door handle hard as Portia turned into the dirt lane. Why she had decided to bring the pristine truck down the dusty road he didn’t know, but it was her truck, and who was he to complain.
“Pablo,” Portia said, slowing as they came to a quiet area under a large tree. “I’m sorry, I should never have doubted you.”
Pablo felt something deep in his chest unfurl, and he started to relax. Portia had actually apologized. “I thought…” Pablo started. “I thought that we had gotten past that kind of thing. When you bought that other truck, we had started working together, not against each other. I thought you had recognized that I knew what I was doing.”
Portia put the truck in park and turned the engine off, twisting on the seat as she met Pablo’s gaze. “I really am sorry,” she pulled her lower lip between her teeth. Apologizing didn’t come easy, and the mechanic wasn’t making it any easier.
“You did an amazing job.” Portia looked up, seeing a softening to Pablo’s dark eyes.
“I don’t understand,” Pablo finally said. “You wanted me to fix this truck to make it new again, but when I stripped it down, you freaked out. Why?”
Portia twisted her hands in her lap, looking across the bench seat at the handsome mechanic who had been slowly stealing her heart. Perhaps one of the reasons she had reacted so badly to the way her truck had looked was that she was actually afraid of her feelings for someone like Pablo. They were nothing alike. She had