Chapter 1 1. BENEATH THE HOOD

Claire Dunlop clutched the steering wheel of her bright red BMW, seething beneath her flawlessly applied makeup. None of the asphalt road intertwined with the hills ahead concerned her, nor did the supposed vacation she was supposedly enjoying. Instead, she envisioned the campus she was departing from and the world that awaited her beyond.

She had just completed her final exams and was now on her way back to the Dunlop estate, which meant plunging further into a life she had always wanted to flee from. A life mainly filled with unattainable expectations, scheduled social gatherings, and the worst part of all – the wedding that her father had been obsessing over for the last few months. A marriage to a humiliating palace that was never based on love; rather, she was compelled to wed the family of an arrogant heir whose name had slipped her mind. It seemed like she had pressed the gas pedal to escape from reality.

But then- A jolt.

A flashing dashboard paired with an engine that hesitated. The vehicle suddenly lurched and stopped along the road. Frustrated to no end, Claire sighed and started looking for her phone. Predictably, there was no signal. Fantastic. She hit her hands on the steering wheel.

"Are you serious? A car worth a hundred thousand dollars breaks down in an isolated area?"

Upon exiting the car, she inhaled deeply. There were meadows and there were woods. In the distance lay a road that could only fit two cars next to each other, with no cars visible anywhere. The summer heat was intense and made her quite uncomfortable since she hadn't dressed suitably for the drive.

Claire was unsure how long her arms stayed extended like that, deliberating on whether to hold out for a miracle or begin walking. However, a low roar of an engine resounded from afar.

A pickup truck.

A weathered old truck, the hue of corrosion, came to a stop next to her. The driver lowered the window and stuck his head out. Disheveled dark hair, defined jawline, striking blue eyes-he embodied a kind of attractiveness that seemed both natural and perilous.

He grinned. "Having issues with your car, princess?"

Claire frowned at the nickname. "Do I look like a princess to you?"

He cast a careful, measured look at her fashionable attire, the vehicle, and the diamond studs sparkling in the sunlight. "Yeah. You do."

She exhaled sharply, arms still folded. "Just who are you, anyway?"

"Cole Walker."

He leaned his head in the direction of the car. "Do you want me to check it out, or will you just keep glaring at me all day?"

Claire contemplated. He appeared to be the kind who was familiar with engines, yet he also seemed like the sort who took pleasure in watching her uneasy.

She let out a sigh and moved to the side. "Okay. But, if you damage something, you will pay for it."

He climbed out of the truck and laughed. "Right. Because I have a few thousand dollars just sitting there."

He donned a faded leather jacket and black jeans.

She disregarded him, observing as he opened the hood and bent over the engine. His actions were assured, exact-almost as if it came naturally to him. Time went by quietly, interrupted only by the sporadic murmurs of frustration as he toiled.

At last, he stood up straight, cleaning his hands on a cloth. "It seems your alternator is malfunctioning. You won't be going anywhere without a tow."

Claire let out a groan. "Great. Just great."

Cole was propped up against her car with her arms crossed. "I can take you to town. My shop is approximately ten minutes away from this location."

She looked at the truck with caution. "In that thing?"

He grinned. "Afraid?"

"Certainly not," she fibbed. Cole moved in closer, gaze fixed on hers. "Now get in, princess."

Claire paused. Every rational part of her mind screamed against it-but there was something in the way he gazed at her, as if he were completely unaffected by her demeanor or her identity. And for some reason, that motivated her to demonstrate he was mistaken.

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Claire occupied the passenger seat of Cole's aged pickup truck while he towed her vehicle, arms folded and lips set in a tight line. The inside held the scent of oil and leather, a stark contrast to the citrus-fragranced opulence of her Mercedes. The journey was rough, and she needed to hold onto the door handle as the vehicle drove over a pothole.

"Have you ever heard of suspension?" she whispered softly.

Cole laughed softly, maintaining his focus on the road. "She has a lot of suspension. Simply not the type you're familiar with, princess."

Claire flinched. "Please don't call me that."

"What name should I use for you then?"

After a moment's pause, she replied, "Claire Dunlop."

Cole momentarily glanced away from the road to gaze at her, his eyebrows lifted. He remained silent, simply kept driving, focused on the road. The little town they entered was completely different from the modern, glass-and-steel environment Claire was used to. Rather than skyscrapers, there were family-owned eateries, brightly lit taverns, and a few shabby stores. As they arrived at Walker's Auto, Claire hardly hid her displeasure. The garage was messy, with a strong odor of grease and gasoline filling the air. Two vintage muscle cars were positioned on lifts, while classic rock music blared from a hidden radio.

"Is this all there is?" she inquired, lacking enthusiasm.

Cole lifted an eyebrow as he exited the truck. "What did you expect? A valet?" Claire laughed derisively. "I'm not sure, perhaps something... neater?"

Cole laughed softly, shaking his head as he brought her inside. "You rich types truly have no clue what the actual world is like, do you?"

Claire tensed up. "Pardon me?"

"You heard me." He took a cloth from a workbench and cleaned his hands. "You enter this place acting as if you're above it. But let me take a wild guess-you'd be totally okay if I were a billionaire mechanic repairing your car in a modern, high-end showroom, wouldn't you?"

Claire felt a warmth spread across her face. "I-that's not-"

"That's precisely what it is," Cole interjected, his tone steady yet composed. "Listen, darling, your wealth doesn't matter to me. You may have a fit over grease and tools all you like, but that vehicle of yours won't move without my help. Either you can continue to look down at me, or you can allow me to do my job."

Claire began to speak in opposition, but his gaze held her back. She tightened her arms and looked away. "Okay. Just repair it."

Cole smirked, shaking his head while approaching her vehicle. "That's more like it."

Claire observed him begin his task, pushing up his sleeves and skillfully navigating around the engine. He was talented-she had to acknowledge that. His hands were adept, his motions exact. And even against her will, she struggled to turn her gaze elsewhere. Minutes elongated into an hour, the tension between them remaining but more subdued now.

At last, Cole cleaned his hands and forcefully closed the hood.

"You're all set," he remarked, throwing her the keys.

Claire apprehended them, an unwilling sense of gratitude forming in her heart. "How much does it cost?"

Cole rested against the car, with his arms crossed. "Don't worry about it."

Claire made a face. "Hold on, what?"

Cole lifted his shoulders. "Think of it as my kind act for the evening."

She squinted her eyes. "Why are you willing to repair my car at no cost?"

He smiled. "Since I enjoy seeing you writhe."

Claire sighed, exasperated, and rolled her eyes. "Unbelievable."

She dug into her handbag, pulled out a stack of money, and gave it to him. "Here. You did your job and I have to pay you for it."

He gazed at her, unwilling to accept the money.

"Keep your cash", he said, something in his voice.

Claire jammed the money into his hand, "look I don't know what game you're playing or what your angle is, but it's yours. Take it."

He scowled and moved back from her. "Take your money and your vehicle and go," he said angrily.

Cole pivoted, strolled over to a different vehicle beside hers, acting as if he had something to do. He was obviously annoyed by her being there. She unlocked her car door, but as she got inside, she paused, looking at him through the glass. There was something about Cole Walker that irritated her. For the first time in a while, Claire Dunlop felt uncertain about whether she despised it or enjoyed it.

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The room was silent apart from the gentle whir of the ceiling fan and the sporadic swish of the bedding. Moonlight poured in through the window, creating faint shadows on the bed.

Cole rested on his back, one arm positioned under his head, gazing at the ceiling with unfocused sight. Hailey's body nestled next to him, her gentle and steady breath brushing against his exposed chest. One of her legs lay protectively over his, while her arm was settled on his abdomen.

He should have felt relaxed. Satisfied.

But he didn't.

His chest felt constricted. His mind was noisy.

Claire Dunlop.

The name resonated in his thoughts like a murmur and a hex.

The heir to the Dunlop fortune. All diamond, privilege, and haughtiness. The way she had walked into his shop with her heels clicking like she owned the damn place. Tossing her name around like it meant something to him. He shouldn't have offered to help, but he couldn't help himself. He wasn't that kind of guy to see a person in need and refuse to help.

Indeed, it signified something. The Dunlops were well-known by everyone in this town. Her dad possessed half the damn skyline. Claire was expected to be merely another pampered child-someone who hadn't ever done even a little work for anything in her lifetime. When she insisted she pay him, it struck something in him. She ought to have disgusted him.

And still...

Cole's jaw tightened as he recalled the instant she faced him, her silk top adhering to her form, her lips tinted like temptation, confronting him with those maddeningly piercing eyes.

He recalled the glimpse of fragility hidden behind all the attitude. The manner in which her voice wavered for a brief moment when she mentioned her car had broken down. Perhaps there was additional depth to her beyond the facade of privilege.

What the hell is wrong with me?

He glanced over, directing his gaze at Hailey. She appeared serene while sleeping, her face at ease and her blonde lengthy hair spread across his pillow.

She had always been there. Simple. Familiar. Comfortable.

But tonight, he had called her-not out of longing, not out of need. He had called her to silence something else. Something far more dangerous.

Claire had awakened something in him. Though his brain told him to she is a baggage of trouble, his body betrayed him.

Damn testosterone.

His eyes closed lightly, yet Claire remained-within his thoughts, not merely as a recollection, but as a tempest. The fragrance of her perfume remained in the edges of his recollection. The manner in which her lips opened as she gazed at him. The silent tension that buzzed between them whenever she was a bit too near.

Even now-even now-after making love to Hailey, his body reacted just thinking about her.

He felt disgusted with himself.

He exhaled and muttered under his breath, "This is a damn mistake."

Hailey shifted next to him. "Mmm?" she mumbled drowsily, her tone filled with sleepy fondness. "Are you alright?"

Cole glanced at her briefly, managing a gentle response. "Yeah. Just thinking."

She nestled against him, letting out a sigh. "Don't think. Just hold me."

He complied, as it was simpler. Since he wasn't prepared to confront the reality at this moment. Yet as he encircled her with his arms, all that filled his vision was Claire. That difficult grin. The blaze in her gaze. The paradox she represented-wealthy, protected, intricate... and completely enchanting.

He had thrown her out of his garage that day because he'd known. Even then, in the first few moments. If she stayed any longer, he would have kissed her. Hard.

He hadn't trusted himself.

Still didn't.

And now he was lying in bed with the woman he thought he wanted, feeling like a traitor.

A whisper escaped his lips before he could stop it.

"...Claire."

Hailey moved a bit, yet remained asleep.

Cole shut his eyes once more and sensed shame rise in his throat.

Whatever was happening to him-it was too late to deny it.