Teresa Carpenter - The Best Man and The Wedding Planner

She didn’t bury her head under the covers anymore. But there were times she wanted to.

Lightning flickered in the distance. Rather than watch the storm escalate, she closed her eyes as sleep claimed her. Her last thoughts were of Zach.

* * *

Lack of motion woke Lindsay. She opened her eyes to a dark car and an eerie silence. Zach was nowhere in view. Stretching, she turned around, looking for him. No sign. She squinted out the front windshield.

Good gracious, was the hood open?

She pushed her door open and stepped out, her feet crunching on gravel as a cool wind whipped around her. Hugging herself she walked to the front of the Land Rover. Zach was bent over the engine using a flashlight to ineffectually examine the vehicle innards. “What’s going on?”

“A broken belt is my best guess.” He straightened and directed the light toward the ground between them. “I’ve already called the rental company. They’re sending a service truck.”

She glanced around at the unrelenting darkness. Not a single light sparkled to show a sign of civilization. “Sending a truck where? We’re in the middle of nowhere.”

“They’ll find us. The vehicle has a GPS.”

Relief rushed through her. “Oh. That’s good.” She’d had visions of spending the night on the side of the road in a storm-tossed tin can. “Did they say how long before they got here? Eee! ” She started and yelped when thunder boomed overhead. The accompanying flash of lightening had her biting back a whimper to the metallic taste of blood.

“As soon as they can.” He took her elbow and escorted her to the passenger’s-side door. “Let’s stay in the car. The storm looks like it’s about to break.”

His big body blocked the wind, his closeness bringing warmth and rock-solid strength. For a moment she wanted to throw herself into his arms. Before she could give in to the urge, he helped her into her seat and slammed the door. A moment later he slid in next to her. He immediately turned the light off. She swallowed hard in a mouth suddenly dry.

“Can we keep the light on?” The question came out in a harsh rasp.

“I think we should conserve it, just in case.”

“Just in case what?” It took a huge effort to keep any squeak out of her voice. “The truck doesn’t come?”

“Just in case. Here—” He reached across the center console and took her hand, warming it in his. “You’re shaking. Are you cold?” He dropped her hand to reach behind him. “Take my jacket.”

She leaned forward and the heavy weight of his suit jacket wrapped around her shoulders. The satin lining slid coolly over her skin but quickly heated up. The scent of Zach clung to the material and she found it oddly comforting.

“Thank you. You won’t be cold?”

She heard the rustle of movement and pictured him shrugging. “I’m okay right now. Hopefully the tow truck will get here before the cold seeps in. Worst case, we can move into the backseat and cuddle together under the jacket.”

Okay, that option was way too tempting.

“Or you could get another one out of your luggage.”

His chuckle preceded another crash of thunder. “Pixie girl, I don’t know if my ego can survive you.”

Maybe the dark wasn’t so bad since he hadn’t seen her flinch. Then his words struck her. “Pixie girl? That’s the second time you called me that.”

“Yes. Short and feisty. You remind me of a pixie.”

“I am average,” she stated with great dignity. “You’re a giant.”

“You barely reach my shoulder.”

“Again, I refer you to the term ‘giant.’” She checked her phone, welcoming the flare of light, but they were in the Italian version of Timbuktu so of course there was no service.

“Uh-huh. Feisty, pretty and short. Pixie it is.”

Pretty? He’d called her that before, too. Pleasure bolstered her drooping spirits. She almost didn’t care when the light faded again. Not that his admission changed her feelings toward him. He was a dangerous, charming man but she didn’t have to like him just because he thought she was pretty. He was still off limits.

Hopefully he took her silence as disdain.

Right. On the positive side, the bit of vanity served to distract her for a few minutes. Long enough for headlights to appear on the horizon. No other vehicles had passed them in the twenty minutes she’d been awake so she said a little prayer that the approaching headlights belonged to their repair truck.

“Is the repair service coming from Monte Calanetti? How far away do you think we are?” She feared the thought of walking, but she didn’t want to stay in the car all night, either.

“We’re nowhere near Monte Calanetti,” Zach announced. “By my guess we’re about ten miles outside Caprese.”

“Caprese?” Lindsay yelped in outrage. Caprese was the small village where the artist Michelangelo was born. “That’s the other direction from Monte Calanetti from Florence. What are we doing here?”

“I told you last night. I have an errand to run for Antonio before I go to Monte Calanetti. It’s just a quick stop to check on his groomsmen gifts and do a fitting.”

“You so did not tell me.”

“I’m pretty sure I did. You really can’t hold your champagne, can you?”

“Stop saying ‘champagne brain.’ When did we have this conversation? Did I actually participate or was I sleeping?”

“You were talking, but I suppose you might have dozed off. You got quiet toward the end. I thought you were just involved in the movie. And then I fell asleep.”

“Well, I don’t remember half of what you’ve told me. You should have reminded me of the plans we supposedly made this morning. I need to get to Monte Calanetti and I need my own car. I know you’re trying to be helpful but...”

“But I got you stuck out in the middle of nowhere. And you’re already tired from the flight. I’m sorry.”

Lindsay clenched her teeth in frustration watching as the headlights slowly moved closer. Sorry didn’t fix the situation. She appreciated the apology—many men wouldn’t have bothered—but it didn’t get her closer to Monte Calanetti. She had planned to hit the road running tomorrow with a visit to the wedding venue, the Palazzo di Comparino and restored chapel, before meeting with Christina in the afternoon.

Now she’d have to reschedule, move the interview back.

“Lindsay?” Zach prompted. “Are you okay?”

“I’m trying to rearrange my schedule in my head.” She glanced at her watch, which she’d already adjusted to local time. Seven-fifteen. It felt much later. “What do you think our chances are of getting to Monte Calanetti tonight?”

“Slim. I doubt we’ll find a mechanic willing to work on the Land Rover tonight. We’ll probably have to stay over and head out tomorrow after it’s fixed.”

“If they have the necessary part.”

“That will be a factor, yes. Here’s our help.” A small pickup honked as it drove past them then made a big U-turn and pulled up in front of them.

Zach hopped out to meet the driver.

Lindsay slid her arms into Zach’s jacket and went to join them.

“Think it’s the timing belt.” Zach aimed his flashlight at the engine as he explained the problem to the man next to him. Their savior had gray-streaked black hair and wore blue coveralls. The name on his pocket read Luigi.

“Ciao, signora,” the man greeted her.

She didn’t bother to correct him, more eager to have him locate the problem than worried about his assumption that she and Zach were married.

The driver carried a much bigger flashlight. The power of it allowed the men a much better view of the internal workings of the Land Rover. The man spoke pretty good English and he and Zach discussed the timing belt and a few other engine parts, none of which Lindsay followed but she understood clearly when he said he’d have to tow them into Caprese.