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"This is incredible, Mrs. Sanford," Spencer marveled. "The covered veranda on the second floor is the perfect touch."
"Isn't it?" the older lady gushed. "I hadn't even thought about a first floor veranda, but the architect – he's such a sweet boy, you'd like him – suggested building one just off the morning room and I agreed. And then, when he came by with the plans earlier – you just missed him – he'd taken the liberty of building it out on the second floor which makes perfect sense. Why not utilize that empty space?"
Spencer nodded in agreement, her eyes combing over the blueprints in front of her carefully. Architecture wasn't her specialty by any means, but she found the blueprints invaluable to her creativity when it came to putting together room. So many of her clients brought her in to re-design rooms long ago put together or else after construction had finished. She loved being in on the project from the beginning, especially a big project like this one.
"You know, this wall here? What about putting in windows all the way across? You'll have amazing views of the sunset and we can custom create drapery that will cover the whole wall if you want to block the natural light. There's also a small lake just down the hill from here, right? It would be a beautiful view."
"I love that," Mrs. Sanford exclaimed. She wrote herself a few notes on the notepad she carried everywhere with her these days. "And I was thinking, what are your thoughts on the doorways? I was thinking an arched door might look better?"
For the next hour, Spencer and Mrs. Sanford poured over the blueprints, followed by the latest round of paint chips and fabric swatches. By the time she left, Mrs. Sanford had made a few final decisions though they still had plenty to go. The Sanford restoration of an old historic home an hour north or Rosewood was a massive project that came with a substantial pay day. It was set to be the crown jewel of Spencer's portfolio so far and she was more than willing to humor Mrs. Sanford's ever constant questions and late night emails of Pinterest inspiration boards for the end results.
She was lost in thoughts of what she wanted to do with the morning room and didn't see the pot hole until she'd driven right through. She let out a curse word as her seatbelt tightened around her, triggered by the violent bounce of the car. She let out a breath a moment later and kept driving, her attention now on the road.
As she continued to drive, however, a vibration in her steering wheel became apparent and she found herself fighting the wheel to keep the car from pulling to the left. A small tire lit up red on her dashboard and with a sigh, she pulled over on side of the road and got out. Sure enough, her left front tire was flat.
"Damn it!" she cursed. She was in the middle of nowhere, hadn't passed so much as a house in miles. She retrieved her phone and was shocked to see she had service. She put in a call to roadside assistance and let out another string of profanities when they told her it would be at least two hours before someone could come to her aid. She got back in her car, turned on the hazard lights, and hoped for a friendly passerby as she Googled 'how to change a flat tire.'
Ten minutes later, her confidence that she could change a flat buoyed by a few YouTube videos that made it look easy, she fished the spare out of her car and managed to find the jack in her car's emergency kit. She'd positioned the jack under the car and was attempting to pump the handle to lift it when the sound of a motorcycle reached her ears.
"Please, God, let that be someone who is not a serial killer and knows how to change a flat," she muttered. She stood on the side of the road, waiting for the bike to come into view. It slowed as it approached her and she gave the driver a timid smile. It was still hard for her to trust strangers, but desperate times were desperate measures.
The biker rolled to a stop and pushed his kickstand down. He reached for his helmet and removed it. Spencer couldn't stop the gasp that came out of her mouth. The biker wasn't a stranger at all. Although he may as well have been.
"Looks like you've got a flat," Toby said, climbing off his bike. He stuffed his hands in his pockets as he approached.
"Pot hole," Spencer confirmed. "Roadside assistance is on the way."
"In what, an hour? Two hours?" Toby replied. He stopped several feet away from Spencer, not sure how open she'd be to him helping her, especially out in the middle of nowhere. He knew Spencer hated to be a damsel in distress, but he also knew changing a tire wasn't something within her realm of expertise. It happened to be in his. It looked like fate was giving him a break for a change.
"They'll be here as soon as they can," Spencer said. Toby nodded at the jack.
"So you thought you'd change it yourself in the meantime? Let me guess, you Googled it on your phone."
"Well, it beat sitting around waiting," Spencer retorted. It annoyed her that he still seemed to know her so well.
"Give me five minutes," Toby said with a hint of a grin. He started towards the car.
"You really don't…" He held up his hand to stop Spencer.
"I've got it," he said, kneeling down to inspect the damage.
"It's really not necessary…" Toby turned to look up at her.
"Either I change the tire or I stay with you until roadside assistance comes," he said. "Like it or not, I'm not leaving you in the middle of nowhere. In case you haven't noticed, not a soul has come by since I've been here. I'd venture a guess that I'm the first person you've seen since you've been on side the road."
"Fine," Spencer relented. She crossed her arms and stood aside as Toby peeled off his leather jacket, tossed it aside, and went to work on the tire. Spencer tried not to notice how his muscles flexed as he first pumped the jack handle to lift the car and then applied force to loosen the lug nuts. He made quick work of it, easily removing her flattened tire and replacing it with her spare.
"You're going to have to take it slow on this," he told her as he tightened the lug nuts back in place. "Your spare is pretty worn." He lowered the car back to the ground, removed the jack and replaced it in Spencer's car.
"Thanks," Spencer said, speaking the first words she'd uttered since he went to work. She'd been too busy trying not to notice how his v-neck clung to his well-toned physique while attempting to decide on something to say that wouldn't come out awkward or wrong. Toby examined the damaged tire as he picked it up to add it to the back of Spencer's small SUV.
"You've got a pretty nasty hole in this," he said. "I don't think it can be repaired. But that's probably a good thing." He kicked her left rear tire. "I noticed the tread is getting pretty thin on all your tires. Might be time to consider getting four new ones."
"Thanks," Spencer said again, thinking back to the last time she'd had so much as an oil change. She couldn't remember when it was. "I'll have a mechanic look at it tomorrow." Toby nodded and shut the SUV's hatch.
"You're all set," he said. "Just, like I said, take it easy driving home. No high speed chases or drag races."
"I will," Spencer agreed, allowing a small smile to form. She went to her car and pulled out her purse. When she turned back to Toby, he was already walking towards his motorcycle. "Toby!" He turned at the sound of her voice and frowned as she pulled out her wallet.
"No, Spencer," he said, holding up his hands as she took out a few bills. "I think it's safe to say I owe you." There was a pregnant pause between the two, both considering what he'd just said, recounting past hurts. Finally, Spencer returned her wallet to her bag.
"Thanks again," she said.
"Not a problem," Toby said with a nod of his head. They parted ways, Toby pulling his jacket on as he climbed back onto his motorcycle, Spencer sliding back behind the wheel of her car. She drove slowly to Rosewood, Toby and his bike in her review mirror until she reached the Rosewood city limits.
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