Rain hit the roof of the little Colorado auto shop so hard that morning it sounded like gravel.
The Single Dad was underneath a pickup truck when the front door opened.
He heard the bell.
Then silence.
Then the wet squeak of expensive heels on cheap linoleum.
He kept one hand on the socket wrench.
“Be with you in a second.”
No answer.
The Single Dad tightened one final bolt, rolled out from under the truck on the mechanic’s creeper, and immediately forgot whatever sentence he had been planning to say.
The woman standing in the office did not look like anyone who usually walked into his garage.
She was extremely beautiful, with striking green eyes and long glossy black hair falling in loose waves over a fitted black blazer.
Under the blazer was a matching waistcoat and a crisp white blouse left naturally open at the collar.
Her black trousers were tailored.
Her heels were expensive.
Rain darkened the shoulders of her jacket.
One hand held a large leather travel bag spotted with water.
The other pressed a thick résumé folder against her chest.
The Single Dad sat up.
Grease covered his forearms.
His charcoal shirt looked like it had survived an argument with an engine block.
A dark smear crossed one cheek.
For one second, neither spoke.
Then he stood.
“You here about the sign?”
The Woman looked toward the front window.
A crooked handwritten notice hung behind the glass.
HELP WANTED. OFFICE MANAGER. SERIOUS INQUIRIES ONLY.
“Yes.”
Her voice was calm.
Professional.
“I have five years of operations and office-management experience.”
She stepped toward the counter.
“Scheduling, vendor accounts, customer service, bookkeeping, billing, insurance claims, contract support.”
She placed the folder down.
“I can start immediately.”
The Single Dad picked up the résumé.
Looked at the first page.
Then looked at the suitcase.
That was his mistake.
Not looking at it.
What he decided it meant.
A beautiful woman.
One suitcase.
Rain.
A desperate help-wanted sign.
A tired man who had not slept properly in five years.
He tried to smile.
It came out crooked.
“I should probably warn you.”
The Woman waited.
“This place is more than an office job.”
He gestured toward the garage.
“Phones.”
“Scheduling.”
“Parts.”
“Customers.”
“Books.”
“Basically keeping everything from falling apart while I’m under a hood.”
“That’s operations.”
The Woman said it without arrogance.
“That’s what I do.”
“Right.”
The Single Dad looked at the résumé again.
Then made the worst decision of the entire year.
“Honestly…”
He leaned against the counter.
“I don’t think what I need is another employee.”
The Woman waited.
The half-smile returned.
“What this place really needs is a wife.”
Silence.
Four seconds.
Maybe five.
The rain filled them.
The Woman’s expression did not become dramatic.
No outrage.
No raised voice.
No insult.
Something colder happened.
Expectation left her face.
That was worse.
She slowly took the résumé from his hand.
Closed the folder.
Picked up her travel bag.
“Then you should have written that on the sign.”
The Single Dad’s smile disappeared.
She turned toward the door.
“Wait.”
She kept walking.
“Wait.”
This time she stopped.
Did not turn.
The Single Dad came around the counter.
The rain beyond the open garage bay looked almost white.
“I’m sorry.”
The Woman slowly looked over her shoulder.
“That was stupid.”
He rubbed the back of his neck.
A little grease transferred to the collar.