She drew her cell phone from the pocket of her floral-pattern skirt to call for a tow truck, but before she dialed, it struck her that she should probably at least get out and lift the hood of her car. Otherwise she’d look like a helpless female, and that wasn’t and never would be her MO. Other wedding guests would be traveling this road soon as they drove back to town. It was one thing for Erin to know she was pathetic; it was quite another to allow herself to look pathetic.

After releasing her seat belt and gathering the folds of her skirt, she pushed open the driver’s door and stepped onto the gravel road. Sharp-edged rocks rolled under the soles of her pink heels, reminding her of how sore her feet were from wearing impractical footwear on a lumpy lawn all afternoon. Given her druthers, she chose to wear boots, county-issue riding boots when she was on duty and black commando boots when she wasn’t. They never pinched her toes, and she didn’t wobble like a tightrope walker when she wore them.

Tottering and wincing, she circled the front bumper of her car and popped up the hood. One thing her father had never insisted that she learn was how to do mechanic work. She peered into the greasy abyss and acknowledged that she recognized three things: the battery, the oil cap, and the windshield-cleaner reservoir. The unpleasant smell of gasoline wafted to her nose, verifying that the fuel pump had indeed malfunctioned. She deserved a gold star just for figuring out that much. Automobiles mystified her. Half the time, she wasn’t sure what a warning light meant.

She wanted a life partner, not just someone to cheer her on when her confidence flagged, but a companion to watch movies with, dine out with her, and believe in her. She was lonely, damn it. Oh, sure, she had her best friend, Julie Price, to keep her company, but that was different. And, of course, she had Uncle Slade, who loved her dearly and was always there if she needed him. With his marriage to his lifelong sweetheart today, Erin had accumulated a heap of new relatives as well: her first cousin, Brody; his wife, Marissa; and their three sons, plus a gaggle of cousins and second cousins by marriage. Raised as an only child by parents who didn’t socialize much with relatives, Erin appreciated having extended family for the first time in her memory. But having friends and relations wasn’t the same as having one special person she could call her own.

Just then, she heard the rumble of a diesel engine. She quickly got a little grease on her hands so it would appear that she’d been tinkering with the engine. Then she straightened and peered around the uplifted hood. When she saw a late-model, silver Dodge pickup, she almost groaned. Not Wyatt Fitzgerald. Please, God, not now. Only it was Wyatt, of course. After being the recipient of his disdain all afternoon, she wanted to grind her teeth.