"Dammit!" Rory mumbled as her car sputtered to a halt. Sighing, she picked up her cell and dialed the familiar number.

"Hello?"

"I thought it wasn't supposed to rain in Texas!"

"Oh, no, sweetie," came her mother's reply. "I think you're mixing the confederate states up with that place where the Sims live again. Texans have rain. And Stetsons, instead of those funny floating green things above their heads."

Rory pouted. "Well, either way, it sucks. And I am nowhere near Dallas, and the car's died on me, and at this rate I'll never be there in time to cover the conference and I'll have driven all this way for nothing!"

"Car trouble? Well, let me see. It'll probably be the spigot." In the background Rory could hear a muted scuffle, Lorelai hissing "What? A spigot is a real thing!" before turning her attention back to the phone. "Uh huh, yeah, definitely the spigot. The left hand one. Under the phalange, next to the doodah, it's– Ow! Listen, honey," she sighed, "Luke is feeling kind of left out here. You just humor him for a minute and then Mom'll get you all fixed up. Where are you anyway?"

Rory squinted through the driving rain at the road sign. "Um… Dillon, home of the panthers?"

"Oh my God, Luke, there are panthers there!" She heard her mom shriek playfully as the phone was passed over. Then a familiar voice. "Panthers?"

"I'm thinking sports," she replied dryly. "I'm not sure which I'd prefer."

"Right," he said vaguely, focused on the problem at hand. "What have you done to your car?"

"I didn't do anything! It just, sort of…whined"

"Whined?"

"Yeah! And then it kind of went -" here she attempted to recreate the sputtering noise the engine had made as it shuddered to a halt, with limited success, " – and now it won't go!"

"Any smoke?"

She squinted out at the hood of the car. "There might be steam. It's hard to tell with the rain."

"Quick, tell her to run away in slow motion before it blows," she heard her mother yelling in the background. Luke ignored her, which was probably for the best.

"That'll be your radiator, Rory. Nothing you can do except get the car to a mechanic tomorrow. I told you, you get Gypsy to check everything before you try a drive this long! Anything could have happen-"

Thankfully, a pair of headlights appeared on the road before he could go into full lecture mode.

"Oh, hang on - someone's passing. I should go flag them down, get a ride into town."

His reply was panicked. "You can't just get into a car with some redneck!"

"You're right," she told him mock-seriously. "I should ask them which way they vote and hold out for a democrat. Seriously, Luke, I'm stranded in a monsoon here. I can't really afford to be picky."

"Fine." He grunted in reply. "But you be careful!"

"Mace in my purse," she chirped, "Bye!"

Hanging up, she slid out of her seat, grabbing her bag, and started making her way towards the already slowing car. It was a beat up pickup truck, she noted. How very Texan.

By the time the car had pulled to a halt besides her a few moments later she was soaked to the skin. He hair clung to her face in damp strands as she peered through the passenger window.

"Need a ride?" the guy inside yelled, struggling to be heard over the downpour.

"Please!" She shouted back, nodding. He reached over and pushed open the door, and she climbed in gratefully, shaking droplets of water from her hair.

"Thanks," she said, turning to look at her rescuer properly. And… Oh, my, she thought, taking him in. Redneck, certainly, from the plaid shirt unbuttoned to halfway his chest to his worn out cowboy boots. Dark brown hair, longer than she liked on a guy, hung scruffily into his eyes. But he was gorgeous. And the grin he was shooting her now said he was well aware of this fact.

"Not from around here?" he drawled, laying the good ol' boy accent on thick as he gave her sodden dress a slow once over. Rory was furious with herself for blushing, and crossed her arms defensively as she replied.

"Not so much. On my way to Dallas for work, and I guess I got a little turned around."

He laughed softly, a smile tugging at one corner of his mouth, and she tried to pretend it didn't sent a jolt of electricity through her. He had no business looking like that, she told herself, struggling to maintain her composure.

"I'll say," he answered, pulling back onto the road. "Where can I take ya?"

"Um, is there a motel in town?" she asked. "I think I'm going to have to get my car looked at in the morning."

He nodded. "No problem. I'd take a look myself if it wasn't for the weather."

"Thanks," she said again, settling into her seat and fastening her seatbelt. "I'm Rory, by the way."

"Tim," he replied, glancing away from the road to wink at her. She blushed despite herself.

They passed a few minutes in companionable enough silence, before he spoke again.

"So, work, huh? I'dve pegged you as a college kid."

She smiled. "I was. Journalist now, with the Hartford Courant. I'm supposed to be covering the Republican conference in Dallas this weekend, only it doesn't look like I'll be seeing much of it now."

He looked surprised. "You look kinda young to be out of college."

She shrugged. People always said that.

"Where'd you go?"

"Yale," she answered tentatively. It was stupid, but she felt kind of awkward telling this guy that she was ivy league educated. If the name impressed him, he didn't show it.

"Yale. That's good, right?"

Rory shrugged again. "I guess."

He smiled. "Round here we're more about the footballing colleges, y'know? TMU, Alabama. They recruit Panthers sometimes. I might even be able to score a free ride."

It was her turn to be surprised. "You're in high school?" He nodded. "Oh. It's just, you know, I thought… You look older." She finished lamely. He looked at her again.

"I'm mature." He deadpanned. She raised her eyebrows.

"A mature jock? Right." He smirked. Just then the car turned a corner, and a clattering sound drew her attention to the floor. Looking down, she saw several empty beer bottles rolling around their feet, and her eyes were nervous as she turned back to Tim. Following her gaze, he laughed.

"Not from tonight. And I'd be able to get us there safely even if they were."

Only partly reassured, Rory turned to the window, looking out at the rainsoaked town. A few moments later, Tim pulled up in front of a dingy looking motel.

"Finest establishment in all of Dillon," he told her, gesturing at the neon sign. She grabbed her bag and reached for the door handle.

"Right. Well, thanks again." She told him, inexplicably nervous as she opened her door. He grinned.

"Any time, Rory."

And with that, he peeled out of the lot, leaving her standing in the rain. She watched the truck disappear around a corner, then shook herself and headed to the reception to check in.

This is ridiculous, Gilmore, she told herself sternly. You are a grown woman. You do not get all flustered because some teenager winks at you. Winks! Who even does that?

Still, when she dumped her bag on the floor in her sparsely furnished room, she was just a little breathless. Shaking her head, she pulled out her cell.

"Rory! The redneck hasn't run off to have his wicked way with you?" It was the strangest thing, but Lorelai could have sworn she detected a faint note of regret in her daughter's voice as Rory assured her that she was unravaged.

"Luke was sure you'd be putting the lotion in the basket by now. How many teeth did he have?"

Rory smiled, gazing out of the window as she settled into the conversation.

"I don't know. A normal amount of teeth, I guess."

"A full set?!"

"A full set."

Overhead the storm worsened, as Rory curled up on the bed and began to describe Tim Riggins to her mother.