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she’d make it all right with him.”
    Tess sighed. A stronger person would resist, but today she wasn’t that person. “Okay, you win. I can’t pick him up until after work today, though. Can you meet me over at Frank’s house around six? See you there.”
    * * *
    At the end of the day, Tess turned in her schedule and notes for the nurse who’d be covering her route and met Mary to get the cat. It didn’t help when Pyewacket came out to greet Tess with a deep-throated meow. Mary looked like she’d introduced a match made in heaven. Tess thought the cat could’ve at least hissed or displayed some aggression so she could gracefully back out on her agreement to become a cat owner. 
    No such luck. She packed all the remaining cat food and accompanying paraphernalia in the back of the pickup. The black cat, ensconced in the carrier like an ancient Egyptian god, sat in the front seat. They started down the road with the cat periodically challenging her driving skills with his rumbling meows.
    “I’m not becoming a cat person, I’m not becoming a cat person,” she chanted like a mantra. Her nightmare of turning into a little old lady with a cat was coming true. She looked over at the feline. “And I’m driving the speed limit, so be quiet.” Now, she was even talking to him. She was doomed.
    The front tire blew about two miles from her house. She wrestled with the wheel to regain control of the skidding truck.

Chapter Three
     
    Tess pulled over and set the parking brake. Pyewacket glared at her with the disapproval cat owners all over the world endured on a daily basis. 
    “I couldn’t help it. I’m as hungry as you are, so give me a break. What are you upset about? You won’t be the one changing the damn thing, so knock it off.” At least, she got in the last word.
    “Meow.”
    Almost.
    She’d set the jack when she heard a car coming down the road. She looked up and saw an unfamiliar classic Cougar. It was eating up the road with the power of a V8 engine. Must be passing through.
    She started pumping up the jack. Her tires were old and she’d changed her fair share of retreads. It wouldn’t take long. She heard the car crunch to a stop on the gravel roadside.
    “Need help?” A now-familiar teasing voice sent a wave of irritation through her.
    “If it isn’t Mr. S.D. Bailey. No thanks. Don’t let me keep you.” She absolutely refused to be drawn into a war of words with him. She had the truck jacked up far enough and started on the lug nuts. The first four loosened without trouble. She turned. “I know. Your parents used middle names of U.S. president. Simpson Delano?”
    Bailey sauntered over to where she knelt and stood watching. “Nice try, Contessa. You’ll never guess so you should quit while you’re ahead.” He grinned. “Although, if my name were Simpson Delano, I guarantee you I’d hide it.”
    She hated it when people hovered over her shoulder. The last lug nut held firm. She tightened her grip on the tire iron and yanked. It slipped and she fell back on her rear with a grunt. At the sound of a cough, she looked up and hissed, “Don’t even think about laughing. You haven’t seen me mad and you don’t want to.”
    Bailey put his hand over his chest and vowed solemnly, “Cross my heart.” His twinkling eyes held another emotion, however. He extended his hand to help Tess up and she grudgingly accepted it. With one powerful motion, he pulled her to her feet.
    “Thanks.” Tess had to admit she must’ve looked pretty funny sprawled in the dirt. As much as she’d like to blame him, it wasn’t his fault she had a flat tire or that his presence made her feel like a giddy teenager. She brushed the dust from her khakis.
    “Let me help.”
    “I’d have to turn in my ‘independent single woman’ card if I couldn’t change my own tire. I’ll bet you’ve never needed anyone.”
    “I had a partner once,” he offered.
    “And?”
    “It didn’t work out. We called it quits.