LITMIR.BIZ

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stupid, half-assed lock she had to wrestle with.

      So what? She’s Steve’s ex. Doesn’t matter what good deeds you want to perform, Boy Scout. She’s out-of-bounds.

      She was. Even if she and Steve had ended things amicably, the same would be true.

      Which meant it really was time to stop thinking about her.

      Harry reached for the remote, cranked up the volume and pretended that that was what he was doing.

      PIPPA PRACTICALLY LEAPED down the steps the next morning, eager to get into the day. She had a car again! She felt as though she was rejoining the modern world after a week in the Stone Age.

      Alice talked to herself in the backseat as Pippa drove to the village, her head full of plans. Once she had restocked the pantry, she might make a run to the library to check if the textbooks she’d ordered for her classes had arrived. Then she should probably get a head start on the five-thousand-word assignment that was due before the end of the month.

      But first there was something she wanted to do. She parked in front of the liquor store and strapped Alice into her stroller, then went inside and bought some beer. The salesman helped her stow it on the rack at the back of the stroller before she exited and crossed the road. A bell rang as she entered the cement-floored reception area of Village Motors and a young girl looked up from behind the counter.

      “Hi. How can I help you?”

      Pippa offered up her best smile. “Would it be possible to speak to Mr. Porter?”

      The girl’s gaze flicked between Pippa, Alice and the beer. Lord only knew what she was thinking.

      “I’ll see if he’s busy,” she said primly.

      Pippa pushed the stroller back and forth while she waited, hoping to keep Alice distracted. When Alice started vocalizing, she squatted to play peek-a-boo, making her daughter smile.

      “I’m Mike Porter. How can I help you?” a deep voice asked.

      She glanced up to find a powerfully built older man with a graying horseshoe mustache and Harry’s eyes and nose towering over her. Like Harry, he was tall and broad. She would have recognized him as Harry’s father anywhere.

      She stood. “My name is Pippa White. I own a bright yellow hatchback. Your son Harry repaired it for me….”

      “Right. The head gasket.”

      “That’s me. I wanted to drop by and say thank you for your help, and to offer you a small token of my appreciation.”

      She collected the carton of beer from the luggage rack, offering it to him. His forehead pleated into a perplexed frown.

      “You didn’t have to do that,” he said gruffly.

      “I wanted to. I really appreciate what you and Harry did for us. I can’t tell you what a relief it is to have a car again.” Her arms were starting to get tired and she adjusted her grip a fraction. “Unless you like your beer frothy, you might want to grab this. I’m afraid my upper-body strength isn’t what it should be.”

      “Sorry.” Mike took the carton, placing it on the counter. He looked uncomfortable and a little uncertain as he faced her. Pippa stifled a smile. Like Harry, he didn’t know what to do with her gratitude.

      “Please take it. It’s a tiny fraction of what the repairs would have cost, and I really want to acknowledge your generosity.”

      “Harry won’t like this. He was pretty keen to help you out.”

      For some reason, his words sent a wash of warmth up her chest and into her face.

      “I know. But he needs to accept that I’m pretty keen to thank you for that help, too.”

      Mike’s gaze moved to Alice, his mustache twitching around his smile as he studied her round face. “This your daughter?”

      “Yes. Alice.”

      “How old is she?”

      “A little over six months.”

      His gaze returned to her and she could tell he’d made a decision. “Thanks for the beer, Pippa. It won’t go to waste. And I’ll be sure to direct Harry’s comments your way when he hears about it.”

      She smiled. “You do that. I can handle it.” She slid her hand into her handbag and grasped her checkbook. “Now, I don’t suppose you could tell me what I owe for parts?”

      Mike’s eyebrows shot toward his hairline. “You don’t need to worry about all that. Harry covered everything.”

      “I know. That’s why I want to make sure he isn’t out of pocket. It’s one thing to give up his time, but I can’t let him pay for parts, as well.”

      Mike shook his head. “Sorry, but that’s something you’ll have to take up with Harry.”

      “Mr. Porter—”

      “Mike.”

      “Mike. Harry is a great guy, but I don’t feel comfortable having him pay out money on my behalf. I know I didn’t ask and he offered, but I can afford to cover the parts, and I really want to. It’s important to me. I’ve got Alice to look after now and standing on my own two feet means a lot.” She could hear the emotion vibrating in her voice and she swallowed. For a woman who had spent much of her adult life merely getting by, being responsible for another person was a profound shift. More than anything, she wanted to be up to the challenge, to be worthy of Alice. That meant not relying on her mother or anyone else. Definitely it meant not taking handouts if she didn’t have to.

      “I understand where you’re coming from,” Mike said after a short silence. “Things were tough when we first had Justine, our eldest, but I still had my fair share of pride. I get it.”

      “So you’ll let me reimburse you?” she asked hopefully.

      He allowed himself a small smile at her persistence, but he shook his head. “I’ll tell you what the parts are worth. You can take repayment up with Harry.”

      Which meant she had yet another battle on her hands, but so be it.

      Mike pulled open the top drawer of a beaten-up filing cabinet. After a few seconds he extracted a folder and opened it.

      “Okay. The gasket itself was fifty, but you’ve got an aluminum head, which had to be resurfaced before the gasket was replaced, so that was three hundred. Then there was five liters of oil at thirty, a new oil filter at twenty-five for a grand total of four-oh-five.” He glanced at her. “Which Harry can well afford, by the way.”

      Pippa pulled out her phone and made a note of the figure on the notepad app. “So can I. Thanks for this, Mike. I appreciate it.”

      “My pleasure. I appreciate you taking the time to drop in. Not sure I’ll feel the same once Harry hears what went down, but I’m still bigger than he is so he can suck it up.”

      Pippa wasn’t too sure about him being bigger than Harry—it looked like a pretty close call to her—but she offered Mike her hand, said thanks once again, then pushed a dozing Alice outside. She paused, thinking about how Harry had shouldered four hundred and five dollars on her behalf without so much as batting an eyelid, yet his best friend wouldn’t even pick up the phone to discuss his daughter’s welfare.

      Someone sure picked the wrong hell-raiser to fall into bed with.

      It was a dumb thought and she pushed it away the moment it occurred to her. It wasn’t as though she’d ever had a choice between Steve and Harry—Harry hadn’t even been around when she’d started going out with Steve. He’d been on holiday, touring the U.S., and she and Steve had been seeing each other for nearly a month by the time he returned home.

      She could still remember the day she’d first set eyes on him. He’d walked in the door of Steve’s place, two small silver rings shining in his right earlobe,

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