Rain worsened.
She called roadside assistance.
Two-hour estimate.
She called a diner she had passed ten miles earlier.
The night clerk gave her Henry Carter’s number.
“Guy fixes anything.”
Now headlights appeared behind her.
An old pickup.
Alexandra’s hand tightened around her phone.
The truck stopped several yards back.
Hazards blinking.
A man stepped out.
Dark hooded jacket.
Tool bag.
Flashlight.
He approached slowly.
Stopped outside her driver’s window.
Knocked once.
Then stepped back.
That detail mattered.
He gave her space.
Alexandra lowered the window two inches.
Rain immediately entered.
“You called?”
“Maybe.”
The man looked at the dead dashboard.
“You're Alexandra?”
She hated how vulnerable her name sounded coming from a stranger.
“Yes.”
“I’m Henry.”
“I’m fine.”
Henry glanced at the black interior.
“You're sitting in a dead car on a highway shoulder during a thunderstorm.”
“I can call professional roadside assistance.”
“You did.”
She frowned.
“How do you know?”
“Everybody does before they call me.”
Despite herself, Alexandra almost smiled.
Henry continued:
“They probably said ninety minutes.”
“Two hours.”
“Luxury service.”
He held up the tool bag.
“Give me two minutes.”
“If I can't help, I'll wait behind you until the truck comes.”
“You don’t need to.”
“I know.”
Alexandra stared.
“Why would you?”
Henry looked down the highway.
“Because leaving somebody stranded alone out here would bother me more than waiting.”
Something about the answer disarmed her.
She unlocked the door.
Henry moved around the vehicle.
“Try starting it.”
She did.
He listened.
Again.
“Battery's good.”
He opened the hood.
Rain attacked him instantly.
Alexandra stepped outside after a moment.
“Stay inside.”
“I’m not going to sit dry while you drown.”
“You're dressed better.”
She looked down at her expensive coat.
“You have no idea.”
Henry shone his flashlight across the engine bay.
Alexandra watched his hands.
He moved quickly.
No wasted motion.
Disconnected one component.
Checked another.
Used the flashlight like a surgeon uses an instrument.
“How long have you been a mechanic?”
Henry did not look up.
“Long enough.”
“That isn't an answer.”
“You ask a lot of questions.”
“I’m a CEO.”
Henry stopped.
Looked at her.
She regretted the admission instantly.
Not because her identity was secret.
Because it sounded ridiculous here.
Rainwater streamed down Henry’s face.
“Okay.”
“That’s it?”
“What do you want me to say?”
“Usually people react.”
“To CEO?”
“Yes.”
“Congratulations?”
Alexandra laughed.
It surprised both of them.
Henry returned to the engine.
“What company?”
“Reed Mobility.”
That stopped him for half a second.
“You build EV systems.”
“You know us?”
“I know systems.”
The answer was strange.
Before she could ask, he leaned closer.
“There.”
“What?”
He pointed.
“Power distribution relay isn't seated.”
“That would kill the whole car?”
“Depending on how the controller handles the interruption.”
He reached deeper.
Alexandra moved closer to hold the flashlight.
Their shoulders nearly touched.
Henry glanced at her.
“You're going to ruin those shoes.”
“Fix my car.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Don't call me ma’am.”
“Yes, CEO.”
She stared.
He smiled slightly.
Then worked.