According to the data, Mia’s 2020 Toyota Camry should be the safest sedan she could have chosen. Yet, somehow, she’s stranded on the side of the road, body wedged under the vehicle, trying to identify a “jacking point” so she can get on with trying to change the tire herself. Her phone is beside her head, caked with dust and sweat, and Sara’s voice rings out.

“You have to make sure you find the right spot,” she says, reading a how-to article on how to change your tire when it goes flat. “Or the vehicle could slide off the jack and crush you.”

Mia screws her face up, pausing in placing the old rickety jack she found in her trunk. Cars are whizzing by on the highway, and each time, a gust of hot wind, dust, and gravel whooshes under the car, stinging her bare legs.

A rock is digging into her shoulder. Her blouse is definitely ruined from the sweat stains and dirt. Though it’s barely May, it’s already stiflingly hot.

“Maybe you should just wait for the tow truck,” Sara says, worry laced through her voice. “I don’t know if this is the best time to test out your roadside assistance skills.”

“The tow truck is on a five-hour wait,” Mia repeats, returning to her job of positioning the jack. “I’ll die of dehydration before they find me.”

“You’re so dramatic. But also, I don’t want you to die of dehydration. Or, like a cartoon character, crushed under your car.”

“You’re gonna be so proud of me when I do this; just wait. It’s a step forward for woman-kind.”

“For your information, I’ve changed a tire before.I could probably change a tire, even being pregnant. I think this is more about you than woman-kind as a whole.”

“Semantics.”

Mia tunes Sara’s sarcastic response out and pulls the crank on the jack, hoping she’s got it in the right position.

What’s there to lose? If she messes up, she’ll just be crushed and leave her poor parents to grieve the loss of their only daughter. She makes a mental note to check the statistics regarding car-jack-related fatalities if she makes it home.

“Hey, there.”

With an embarrassing shriek, Mia jumps, hitting her head underneath the car. The pipe she hit lets out a low, metallic clang that harmonizes with her groan of pain.

“What was that?” Sara asks, her voice low and serious. “Someone’s here,” Mia hisses, eyes shut against the pain.

“Oh shit,” someone says, leaning down to look at her as she slides out from under the vehicle. Crouching there, next to her car, is a ridiculously handsome man. He pushes his hand into his dark hair, sweeping it back out of his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he says,offering her a hand so she can right herself.Mia ignores it and pulls herself up to sit, her hand against the throbbing spot on her temple.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, glancing between the tire and her. “I didn’t mean to spook you. I just thought you might need a little help.”

Mia peers at him, squinting through the blazing mid-afternoon sun. What is the statistical likelihood that this man is a serial murderer seeking out stranded women on the road? Mia knows from crime documentaries that you’re more likely to trust beautiful people, and that’s why so many serial killers are handsome.

“I’m doing just fine,” Mia says, drawing her hand away from her face and looking at it. She sighs with relief when it comes back dusty—but blood-free.

“I can see that,” he says, quirking an eyebrow. His gaze flits past her and to her tire,which looks like it went through a cheese grater.The tread hangs down from the rim like long pieces of black spaghetti. “Holy shit,” he says, shifting and running a thumb over one of the shreds. “You’re lucky this didn’t damage your wheel well.”

Mia shifts uncomfortably, still unsure how on-guard she should be. Her phone is still slightly under the car and still on the line with Sara, who knows enough to stay quiet. Pregnant Sara may not be the best audience for her violent murder, but at least if this man turns out to be homicidal, there’ll be a witness to the crime.

“What do you mean?”Mia finally asks, her curiosity getting the better of her.

“This kind of force, from the blow,” the man says, gesturing to the tire. “I’ve seen tires like this cause a lot of damage.” He turns and glances up and down the highway. “You’re also lucky you didn’t swerve into someone, or off the road.”

“Yeah,” Mia says, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. “I’m feeling very lucky right now.”

Her tires are less than a year old, and she maintains her car with almost fanatical care. How the tire ended up like this is beyond her, and also beyond frustrating.

The man is standing, circling around her car, a hand to his chin, like he’s trying to find the secret spot of damage. Mia struggles to her feet, starting to get annoyed at his interruption. She just needs to get her spare tire on and get home.

“Oh,” he says, pointing to her rear windshield. “The Reid Walruses! Did you go to school there?”

A hot flush crawls up Mia’s cheeks,and she almost wants to reach out and cover the sticker with her hand. She can picture Sara on the other end of the line, covering her mouth to stifle her giggle.

When she earned her associate degree from the local community college,her dad insisted on getting matching bumper stickers featuring the school’s mascot.And now, this has invited a strange man into further conversation with her.

“Yeah,” she hears herself saying, the word broken in the middle. She clears her throat. “I did a year and a half, got my associate degree and a certificate in data analytics.”

He raises his eyebrows, looking her up and down again as though re-appraising her.

“I love that place. I took some welding classes, mechanics stuff there. The instructor was very cool.”

Mia holds her hand up against the sun, looking this man in the face again. Despite herself, she doesn’t actually feel that awkward talking to him. It’s not like she’s incapable of social interaction, she just prefers other communication. Like email or texting—something where she can edit and refine before sending. When she’s forced to talk in person, it feels too immediate. Too vulnerable.

“I’m Alex,”he says, drawing her out of her thoughts. He holds out his hand,and Mia considers it for a moment before taking it reluctantly. Her hands are dirty, but feel small in his grip, like how she felt holding her dad’s hand as a little girl. His fingers are callused, rough, and something about that sends a thrill through her.

“Mia.”

“So,Mia,” he continues, “I’m actually a mechanic. Worked as a tire tech for a few years. I can get this swapped out for you in no time, no crushing necessary.”

“I don’t know,” she says, remembering where she is. On the side of the road with a strange man, no way of escaping.

“Please,” Alex says, and his earnest tone makes Mia pause. “It’s like how a doctor might stop to help with an emergency. This is like my civic duty.”

Mia lets out a surprised laugh,meeting the smile in his eyes. “Your civic duty, huh?”

“Yes, and I would be very pleased if I could help you get back on the road.”

“Okay,” Mia says after hesitating for a moment. “Okay, Alex the Mechanic.

Please, show me how to change this tire.”

“Don’t worry about that,” he says, his eyes crinkling. He fishes something out of his pocket and holds it out to her. “Here, why don’t you sit in my truck, cool down? Go on to the driver’s seat. I trust you not to take off with it.”

Mia closes her fingers around the keys. She wants to protest, but sitting in the driver’s seat must be safe, right?And she can’t deny that sitting in the air conditioning for a few minutes sounds amazing.

She mumbles a thank you and walks to his truck. She takes a quick picture of his license plate with her phone, which reminds her that she’s still on with Sara. She makes a mental note to check for data on how many serial killers own a white 2015 Chevy Silverado. After a second, she realizes that’s probably too specific and revises to consider how many serial killers own trucks. It’s so big she has to hoist herself inside, but once she’s in the driver’s seat,with the A/C blasting, she finally feels herself starting to relax. Alex is moving quickly, and Mia realizes he brought his own jack, one that you don’t have to crank, and he’s placing it confidently under the car. Her eyes wander over his strong back, how it curves when he reaches under the car, how capable he looks as he lifts the car, grabs the spare tire.

“Hello, Earth to Mia?” Sara’s voice whispers from the phone, still on speaker. “What’s going on? Someone came to your rescue?”

“Yes,” Mia says, not taking her eyes off Alex. She balances her phone on her thigh.

“Alex the Mechanic.”

“Is Alex the Mechanic hot?” Sara asks, barely keeping the squeal out of her voice. Even though Sara is married

“You’re so weird,” Mia says with a laugh, trying to ignore the way her cheeks flare.

If Sara was here right now, she would have no problem clocking Mia’s attraction. “Oh,Mia, you think he’s hot, don’t you? You should ask him out!”

“No, Sara,” Mia says, pressing the backs of her hands to her cheeks. “He’s just helping me change my tire.”

“I’m just saying, it’s been a while, hasn’t it?” “I’m hanging up.”

“Don’t hang up!You’re in mortal danger! With Alex the Mechanic.”

Mia hangs up the phone, the mortification of the situation almost too much. She takes a deep breath.Alex is kneeling, the spare tire next to him on the gravel. Not wanting him to look back and catch her watching, Mia closes her eyes for just a moment. If this is what it feels like to let someone take care of her for a moment, she could see herself getting used to it.

***

A soft tapping to her left rouses Mia from sleep, and she looks around groggily, not remembering where she is. The sun, once glaring through the windshield, is starting to set along the horizon, washing the sky in violet and pinks.

Her stomach growls loudly, and she tries to remember the last time she ate. She had breakfast with her mother this morning. What time is it now? She smells leather, rubs her hands over her eyes, and looks over to the sound to find Alex standing outside his truck, gently tapping his fingernail against the window.

Realization hits her: she’s locked him out of his own truck and fallen asleep inside. Her cheeks are cool from the A/C, but they warm again as she quickly twists the key in the ignition and unlocks the door, feeling her clumsy limbs flail as she jumps down to the ground. She has that distinct feeling of stepping out into the heat when your body is cool to the touch.

“I’m sorry,” she says, at the same time he says, “Good nap?”

She puts her head in her hands as he laughs good-naturedly. The world feels so soft and far away, and she wonders whether it’s from her short sleep or from his presence.

“Hey,” he says, and she feels a jolt as his hand brushes against the back of hers. “Don’t worry about it. Anyone can see you’ve had a rough day.”

The way he’s talking to her, looking at her, the brush against her hand—maybe Sara was right. Maybe it has been too long.

Mia nods and looks back at her car, which now has one tiny tire in place of the regular one. She’ll have to take it to a tire place tomorrow, but right now, all she wants is something to eat. Her stomach growls loudly again, and it makes him laugh.

“I don’t know how I can thank you enough,” she says, “but I should probably get going. Really,thank you, I don’t know how long I would have been waiting on a tow truck if you hadn’t come along.”

“You know,”he says, “there’s a diner just up the road. Buddy of mine runs it, the burgers are excellent.”

At the thought of a burger and fries, her mouth starts to water. “A buddy of yours?” “Yeah, name’s Dave. He’s a part-time fry cook, part-time private detective, so I can offer you dinner and some juicy gossip from around town,” Alex says, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

“I don’t know,”Mia says, glancing back at the car.

“Tire shops are closed by now anyway,” Alex adds, holding his hands up, his face softening as he looks at her. Mia feels almost like he has a certain gravitational pull, like she couldn’t walk away from him if she wanted to. And maybe she doesn’t want to.

He was kind enough to stop when he saw her stranded on the side of the road. What harm could come from grabbing a burger with him? Mia imagines what Sara would say: “How you can expect to find the right man if you don’t give anyone a chance?”

“Okay,” Mia says,finally, “but I’ll pay. As a thank you.”

“Whatever you say,” he says, smiling. He follows her, going forty miles per hour, to the diner, to make sure she makes it okay on the donut. Inside, he orders a chocolate milkshake and offers to share it with her, then sneakily goes to the bathroom and pays the bill before she even has a chance to get her wallet from her purse.

Later, standing outside the diner, he leans against the wall, one hand over her head and says, “I’d like to see you again.”

Mia looks at Alex, considering. When she was stranded on the side of the road, dating was the last thing on her mind. Now, her eyes running over his strong jaw, her body reacting to his presence, she’s changed her mind.

“I think we can make that happen,” Mia says, boldly reaching up, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt,and pulling him in for a kiss.