AN: Some of you might have read this as a Melissa/Daryl crossover fic. I'm changing up a bit and making it a Caryl AU. It's a cute, romantic thing for the most part. Hope you enjoy.

Chapter 1

"What the..." Carol muttered. Her car was making a very strange noise and suddenly the engine sputtered and died completely. She was able to coast it to the side of the road and put it in park. She turned the key back and then attempted to start the engine again, but was met with nothing but a groan.

"Well fuck," she hissed, cursing both at her engine trouble and the fact that she had opted to take the long, scenic route home from the city. Carol had a huge decision to make and she thought the long, peaceful drive would give her time to mull it over.

She sighed and dug through her purse to find her cell. After digging for a while and not finding what she wanted Carol dumped the contents out on the passenger seat in frustration. She spotted the iPhone and grabbed it.

"No... No, no, no," she growled, throwing the phone back into the pile of stuff on the seat she'd just fished it out of. She was on the side of a back road somewhere between Atlanta and Senoia, it was starting to get dark, they were calling for thunderstorms... And she had no damn cell signal.

Okay, calm down, Carol told herself. Someone will come along to help. I just hope it's not a rapist or serial killer, she thought bitterly. She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel and waited for a vehicle. 10 full minutes passed. She watched every number change on the dashboard clock. Guess it's not the battery, she realized, since the clock was still working.

Carol considered getting out and looking under the hood and then laughed out loud at the thought. About the only thing she would recognize was the spot to add washer fluid. I suppose I could check that? She thought and then laughed again. "I think I'm going insane," she said to her reflection in the rear view mirror. Carol was pretty sure she had never heard of anyone stranded because of no washer fluid. Because she had already admitted insanity she pulled back the lever and watched as the washer fluid sprayed all over the windshield and the wipers swept it away.

When another 5 minutes went by and still no cars appeared Carol grabbed her phone and got out, holding it high in the air and attempting to get a signal. "Ugh," she groaned as the 'no signal' in the corner of the screen remained. Just as she was about to get back in she heard a hum off in the distance. Someone was coming. "Oh thank you baby Jesus," Carol whispered.

She saw the vehicle as it got closer and started to wave. It was a motorcycle, with a single rider. Carol said another prayer, silent this time, that she wasn't flagging down the leader of a biker gang. She could tell it was a man as he got closer and slowed, pulling off the road and parking behind her car.

She watched him set the bike up on its stand and then pull of his helmet. He was wearing jeans and boots, and a black jacket with a leather vest over top. Carol noticed the vest had angel wings on the back and was once again worried she just stopped a gang member. The man pulled out a pack of smokes and lit one on his way over. "What happened?" he asked gruffly, after exhaling.

"I don't really know," Carol shrugged. "I was driving along, it started to make a strange noise, sputtered a bit and died."

"Hmm," he grunted. She watched him take another long haul on the smoke and then drop it to the ground and crush it out. What a waste, she thought, even though she wasn't a smoker herself. "Pop the hood," the man instructed, heading for the front of the car.

"Oh, right," Carol mumbled, moving quickly and looking for the hood release. Thankfully she found it right away and didn't look like a complete moron. After popping it she joined him and peered at the engine. Yep, there's the washer fluid spot, she thought, almost laughing out loud again. She bit her cheek just in time to keep from looking like a crazy person.

"I ain't no expert, but I can't see nothin' much outta the ordinary," he said, poking around a bit and leaning in for a better look. "You been sittin here a while?" he asked, turning to look at her with his blue eyes.

"Probably 10-15 minutes," Carol answered, wondering how he knew.

"Engine's cool enough to touch," he explained. She watched him poke around a bit more and then stand up with a shrug. "My brother could figure it out, but I just ain't seeing anything obvious." He gave her an apologetic look and Carol started to relax, letting go of a bit of her stranger anxiety. "My cousin owns a shop, it's where my brother works and I help a bit some days. Doubt there's anyone there now, getting late," he said, looking at the horizon where you could just make out the sun setting behind the dark clouds that had rolled in. "I can get ya home, an have Merle come tow it in the morning... Unless you have someone who usually works on it..."

"Uh, no..." Carol started. Did she trust this guy enough to leave her car and let him drive her home? On a motorcycle? And did she want this random guy's brother fixing her car at some shop god knows where? What other choice do I have to get home? She wondered. And if he does get me home safely don't I owe it to him to give his family's shop some business? "That sounds great," she said, forcing a smile through her nerves. "Thank you." He nodded and stood unmoving, watching her. "Oh, Uh, I'll just get my things," she muttered, diving into the car.

Carol took several deep breaths to calm herself as she started throwing things back into her purse. She grabbed the keys from the ignition and tossed them in too, then climbed out, hit the lock button and walked to the motorcycle. The man handed her the helmet. "I'd feel better if you wear it," he said shyly. Carol once again started to feel a bit more comfortable. If he was just going to murder her chances were he wouldn't be too concerned about her wearing a helmet. The idea of putting on a stranger's sweaty bike helmet grossed her out, but the possibility of her head getting cracked open if they crashed was a much worse option.

She took the helmet and put it on, surprised when it was actually a perfect fit. She fumbled with the strap but couldn't get it tightened. "Uh, here, can I?" the man stammered, reaching hesitantly to help. Carol let go, indicating he could do it for her and in a few seconds it was tight. "You ain't been on one before?" She shook her head. "I'll take it slow," he said. "Climb on," he instructed, offering a hand to help. She took his hand, rough and calloused in her own, and let him help her climb onto the back. When she was situated he got on in front of her. "You'll have to hold on to me," he said. "Not really a two seater." Carol nervously put her hands on his waist, tucking her purse safely between their bodies. "I ain't trying to be no perv or nothin, but you're gonna have to hold tighter so you don't fall off," he looked back at her with that same apologetic look from earlier, a bit awkward and a bit shy. "Where we headed?"

After giving him her address in Senoia and making sure he knew how to get there, Carol took a deep breath and wrapped her arms around him, feeling his body move as he fired up the bike and sat down. He put it in gear and they took off slowly. As he shifted a couple times and sped up she couldn't help but hug him tighter. She was nervous, but at the same time it was an amazing rush to have the bike humming beneath her as the wind rushed past her body.

He was lean and hard in her arms and Carol could tell the man was muscled under his clothing. She thought about his face as they rode. He was a very handsome man, young though, she guessed close to 10 years younger than her. No wedding ring. Carol had a habit of looking for rings on any man she met, after a close encounter with a lying, married cheat. It was one of the first relationships she'd been in after a nasty divorce that had her swear off men for a long, long time. Her track record sucked, that was for sure.

She didn't know if it was real or just a byproduct of her gratitude for his help, but there was something she found calming about this stranger. He had this sort of childlike quality about him, or an uncertainty, that somehow eased her fears.

When they made the town line the rain started and he slowed their speed for safety. It was just a sprinkle to start, but by the time he pulled up under the car port at the front of her condo complex it was coming down hard and they were soaked. As she climbed off the bike and heard a rumble of thunder Carol made a gut decision, "come inside, please?" They had to discuss the car anyway, and she wasn't going to stand in the storm and do it. Besides, it was too dangerous for him to be out riding in that kind of weather. It was the least she could do.

Carol led him inside and opted to take the stairs up two flights to her floor. She unlocked her door and entered. The man hesitated in the hallway. "Come in, it's fine," she said, waving him in. Before he took a step there was a loud bark and her dog came barreling down the hallway. "Shh," she hissed at him, reaching down to stop him from attacking the man. It wouldn't have been any sort of guard dog attack, but more of a plea for attention and a lot of licking.

"May I?" he asked, squatting and waiting for permission to reach out to pet the dog.

"Of course," Carol replied, smiling. She could tell instantly that the man was a dog person and it made her like him a little bit more. She watched as Cookie sniffed happily and rolled onto his back so he could get a belly rub.

After a few minutes he finally stood up, smiling. "So I guess I will give you directions to the shop and get on my way," he said softly.

"Don't be silly," Carol shook her head. "You're staying for a bit. You can't ride in that storm. And you're soaked. I'll make coffee and find you something to wear while I throw your stuff in the dryer."

"Oh, uh… you don't have…to…" he stammered.

"Stop, just come inside," Carol insisted, pulling him in and shutting the door behind him. "Give me the jacket and I'll go find you some pants and a shirt to put on while everything dries."

"Is your, uh, husband here?" he asked, blushing as he removed his vest and then the jacket underneath and handed it to her.

"Husband?" Carol asked. "No, I'm not married…" She got a pang in her stomach thinking about the time when she had been so many years ago. The comment also made her wondered if it was such a good idea to let him know she lived alone. She was being far more trusting than usual, but her senses told her he really was a good guy. Carol finally realized that he likely assumed there was a man living there if she had clothes for him. "I think I have some sweat pants, from an ex," she explained. "Not sure about a shirt though… you might have to deal with a white undershirt or something for now." She took the jacket. "Be right back."

Carol returned with a black pair of Nike track pants and a white Hanes undershirt. "First door on the left," she said, directing him to the bathroom.

"Ya ain't gotta do this," he said looking at her shyly again. "I can just go. Don't wanna be too much trouble." Carol didn't say anything, she just gave him a look. He understood and took the clothes with a nod. While he was changing she went back to her room and put on her own set of dry clothes.

When she came back out he was standing in the hall, holding his wet clothes, wearing what she'd given him and Carol felt her heart start to pound at the sight. She'd been right about him being muscular, that was for sure. His arms were… well, stunning. And his shoulders… so broad compared to his narrow waist. "Uh, I can't take those…" she said, reaching for the clothes. Carol turned and raced for the laundry room before he could see how flushed her cheeks were. She threw all his stuff in with a couple dryer sheets and turned it on, then took a deep breath to compose herself before heading back out.

Now what? She wondered as a loud boom of thunder sent Cookie running past her into the bedroom to hide. Carol realized that after all this time they still hadn't properly introduced themselves. "Let's go have a coffee," she said. "But before we do, she stuck out a hand, I'm Carol… Peletier." She had never changed her last name after her divorce, though she'd thought about it so many times. But she decided it was a reminder of what she'd survived and it was the only thing about Ed she'd liked.

He hesitated and studied her outstretched hand as if he wasn't quite sure what to do. Carol looked at him curiously and finally he reached out and shook her hand. "Daryl…" he said, looking directly into her eyes for the very first time. "Dixon."