Ten minutes later, she parked next to a plain-Jane rental sedan. She scanned the large, weedy lot for Mac but didn’t see him. The office was a red brick building that fronted a row of garage bays. She went inside. No one stood behind the counter, but she heard Mac’s voice echoing in the main shop. The smell of oil hit her nose as she walked through a doorway and stopped dead.

Mac and a coverall clad mechanic stood next to his Jeep. He was dressed in his usual snug cargos, T-shirt, and hiking boots, but he was clean-shaven, and his blond hair was swept back from his face in a style GQ would approve.

Had she ever seen him clean-shaven? Once, at his brother’s funeral. But he’d been subdued and not himself. Stella wasn’t sure if she liked him better looking tame or wild, but when his eyes roamed over her, a delicious shiver zinged through her belly. Those eyes . . .

The mechanic walked away, and Mac waited.

Shaking off her shock, Stella crossed the grease-stained concrete and examined the Jeep. Ouch. “What’s the prognosis?”

The front end bore the brunt of the damage. Crumpled hood and fenders. Broken windshield and windows. She peaked inside. A large branch had punctured the passenger window and speared the headrest. The fact that he’d gotten out with minimal injuries was a miracle. If he’d hit that stand of trees just a little differently, he wouldn’t be standing here.

“Totaled,” Mac said.

“Sorry.”

He shrugged. “Could be worse. Better the Jeep than me.”

The thought swept a wave of sadness through her. Too much death had filled her life lately. His, too.

Mac walked around the vehicle to stand next to her. “You’re not going to comment on my change of appearance?”

Stella looked him up and down. “You clean up OK.”

“OK?” He laughed. “That’s it?”

Her gaze lingered on his face. “I kind of miss the scruff.”

A quick blast of heat lit his eyes. Then his head tipped back, and he laughed. “Well then, no more shaving for me. Where are we going first?”

“You’re sure you want to get involved? Your family doesn’t need you?” Stella had a feeling that Mac was in funeral-planning-avoidance mode.

“My day is clear until dinnertime.” He turned toward the exit. “As I told you last night, I’m going to look for this woman with or without you.” Picking up a backpack from the ground next to the Jeep, he glanced over his shoulder and gave her an are you coming? look. “I’d much rather work with you.”

Better to keep him in her sights. “Do you promise to stay out of the way and do what I tell you?”

“You’re bossy.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“No, it’s not.”