“Oh, Ava,” he groans. “You’re driving me crazy, you know that.”

I kiss his neck, his ears, the tip of his nose, grinding myself into him. “The feeling”—kiss—“is mutual.”

An hour later, I awaken with a start at the sound of a knock on the driver’s-side window.

“James,” I whisper, shaking him. “Someone’s out there.”

“Mm?” he murmurs sleepily.

The knock comes again.

“James,” I say more urgently. We are stretched out in the back seat, naked, with James’s jacket laid on us for warmth. The windows are fogged up with condensation, thankfully, and the rain, which was loud and soothing on the roof of the car as we drifted off to sleep, has let up, although the sky has darkened.

“Are you OK?” a male voice calls. “Do you need some help?”

At the sound of the man’s voice, James finally wakes up. He sits up and rubs his eyes. “Who’s out there?” he asks me.

“How should I know?” I sit up too, reaching into the front with one arm to see if I can locate any of my discarded items of clothing. My fingers connect with some soft material and I drag it back, triumphant, but it is only James’s T-shirt.

“Thanks,” he says, taking it and pulling it over his head.

“You’d better answer him quick before he calls the police or roadside assistance or something,” I mutter as the man knocks again.

James grins at the panicked look on my face.

“Just a minute,” he calls out loudly to the man outside.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” I scowl.

“Having you, naked, in the back seat of my car? Hell yes, I’m enjoying it.”

“It’s not funny,” I protest, smacking his arm lightly. “I’m pretty vulnerable here, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

“All right. Hang on.”

James climbs through the space between the front seats and, after fumbling around, passes back my clothing. He waits until I am dressed before he pushes the button to wind down his window. Nothing happens, and he looks confused for a moment before realization hits and he swears, reaching for the key in the ignition. He gives it a few turns on and off and nothing happens.

“I think I might have left the headlights on,” he says sheepishly.

“You think?”

“OK yes, I definitely left the headlights on.” He sighs and opens the door.

“What’s up, mate?” the man outside says. “You broken down or something?” The man is elderly and is wearing the unofficial uniform of farmers across the country: short, stubby shorts—despite the weather—black gumboots, and a black thermal short-sleeved top.

“Kind of,” James admits. “I think the battery’s dead.”

“How’d that happen?”

“Well, we stopped, you see, to, um, to check directions on my phone. Because we thought we might have been lost.”

“No cell phone coverage here, mate.”

“No, no, there wasn’t, as we discovered. So, uh, we thought we’d just wait, and have a nap, and see if anyone would come along that we could ask. But I forgot to turn the headlights off, and, well, now here we are. So if you could just give us a jumpstart we’ll be on our—”