Vic opened her eyes, stretched, glanced around her. Late afternoon sunshine spilled through homemade drapes adorned with images of balls—baseballs, footballs, soccer balls, basketballs. Posters of pickups and cars competed for wall space with posters of rock bands—Led Zeppelin, Boston, Journey, Metallica, U2.
Where was she exactly?
Eric’s bedroom.
Not his real bedroom, but the bedroom he’d had as a kid.
She’d had altitude sickness, and he’d brought her to his mother’s house, given her ibuprofen, taken her pulse, made her drink a lot of water, then told her to rest.
It had worked.
She sat up, both relieved and amazed to discover that her headache was gone. Then again, she was close to a mile lower in elevation than she’d been when Eric had carried her back to his truck.
Oh, God!
She’d been carried by a firefighter.
And, of course, she’d been in too much pain even to think of taking a selfie.
Damn.
She glanced around again, the innocent boyishness of the room putting a smile on her face. This is where teenage Eric had hung out back when he and Lexi and Austin had been in high school together and—
Lexi!
She must wonder what in the world was going on.
That thought had Vic out of bed and on her feet. She reached for her handbag, which sat on the small desk in the corner, and searched inside for her cell phone. It wasn’t there. It wasn’t in the pockets of the jacket she’d been wearing either. Maybe she’d left it in Eric’s truck.
She opened the bedroom door and followed the sound of voices down the hallway and through the living room, snatches of conversation drifting through the front screen door. Outside, Eric’s mother, Robin, was talking with her son, who was lying on his back beneath an old SUV, only his legs and a strip of bare abdomen visible.
“They cracked the cap on your transmission tank. Probably screwed it on too tight when you got the fluid changed. That’s where the leak’s coming from. I’ll run to the auto supply store and get you a new one and then top off your transmission fluid. That ought to take care of it.”
Vic stepped outside. “Hey.”
Robin’s head came around. “Hey, there. How do you feel?”
“Much better. Thank you.”
“I should thank you.” Robin looked down at her son, who was wriggling his way out from beneath the car. “I haven’t seen Eric for a while. You brought him home.”
A tall woman in her mid-fifties, she had a gentle demeanor that Vic had found instantly soothing when they’d arrived a few hours ago. Like Eric, she had brown hair, though hers was now streaked with gray. Apart from that and her eyes, there wasn’t much of a resemblance.
“It’s only been two weeks, Mom.” Eric’s head appeared, the muscles of his bare chest and belly shifting as he sat up. “She just likes to put me to work.”
Robin laughed, a happy twinkle in blue eyes that were so much like her son’s. “Don’t let him fool you. He puts himself to work when he comes here, doing things I can’t do by myself. I’m very lucky.”
Wiping his hands on a rag, Eric got to his feet, the damp hair at his temples and the beads of sweat on his chest telling Vic he’d been working outdoors for a while. He walked over to her, those blue eyes studying her, concern pulling his brows together in a frown. “How’s your head?”
“I feel fine. Thanks.” She tried to keep her eyes on his face and not his pecs with their dark curls. It wasn’t easy when his chest was even with her eyes. “Um … Do you know where my cell phone is? I need to let Lexi know what’s going on.”
“She knows. I’ve been keeping her posted.” He opened the front door for her.
“Oh. Thanks.” She walked indoors, following him back toward the kitchen.
“Your phone is in the fridge. The damned thing wouldn’t quit buzzing.”
“You put my phone in the refrigerator?” She hurried after him.