Author's Notes: Thanks to __fallen for for speed-beta!

"You're sure about this?"

"Ray!"

"I'm just sayin'. It's not like you can't just call Triple A."

With a huff, Stella strode to the trunk, popped the lid, and dumped the box of winter road gear on the concrete. A minute later, she was wrestling the spare tire out from under its cover and bouncing it to a halt against the bumper.

"Don't Say It," she snarled.

Ray lifted his hands, palms out, placating. He got the message. She wanted to do this, she didn'to want to be coddled. She was right. And in a way he was glad. Proud as hell of her, too, in a way.

She cursed, then, and bit her thumbnail hard. Must've pinched it trying to get the jack out. It was wedged in there pretty tight. He bit his tongue because he'd promised. He wouldn't help until she asked. Even if she broke every single one of her fingernails doing this.

She shifted around for leverage, showing him a helluva view in her old cut-offs. She was wearing one of his old worn-out button downs with it, sleeves ripped off and a little cleavage showing. The hair beneath her ponytail was damp with sweat, and he was doing everything he could think of not to turn this into a porno in his head. White Sox stats. Procedure for conducting a traffic stop. Imagining his mother on the phone asking if they'd gone to church for Easter.

It wasn't working.

But then she'd moved. Used the crowbar to lever the thing out of its molded nook. Smart girl, she was. Most women woulda just whined at him to put his muscles to some good for a change and help. But that was the point. What if she was out there somewhere on her own, in the middle of nowhere without a phone at hand? Better to learn how in your own garage, right?

Still, it was summer and sweltering. "Be right back," he told her.

"Yeah, okay." She was engrossed in screwing together the lug wrench.

He returned a few minutes later, a six-pack of beer in hand. She'd gotten the jack situated, exactly where the owner's manual suggested for the rear left wheel, and was cranking, cranking, and sweating buckets. He popped the top and handed it to her.

She took a long sip and grinned at him. "Thanks."

"Any time, babe. How's it coming?"

"Are all cars this damned heavy?"

"Yup. If they're American, at least. But you know we could get one of those little Japanese rice-burners." She giggled on cue and he went on, "Those you can lift with your bare hands," he said, posing like a weightlifter.

She laughed again, eyes crinkling. It was good to see her happy. Gave him a thrill every time he could do that, like somehow he'd won something, even though it was just Stell.

"How high should it be?" she asked, focused again.

"Just so there's clearance. If you're changing one that's totally flat, you need to make sure there's clearance for the spare. Since this one ain't flat, you can see from the angle how far it needs to go up."

"Okay, cool." She finished with the jack and took another long drink. "All right. Next is the hubcap, right?"

"Yup."

"Then lug nuts, then pull off the tire, put the new one on, replace lug nuts, replace hubcap, lower jack, and that's it, right?"

"And put everything back in place in the trunk so you can find it in the dark without a flashlight."

"I've got a flashlight."

"Stuff happens."

"Yeah," she said, pondering, "Okay," and got back to it.

Meanwhile, Ray sat against the wall and drank beer, watching Stella wipe the sweat out of her eyes and leave black streaks on her face and in her blonde hair.

Stella's laugh broke through his daydream of bending her over the hood of the car. "How drunk are you?" she asked, her smile teasing. Her shirt tails and the legs of her cutoffs were smudged black now, too.

"Not drunk," he said, hoping. "Thinking about you."

"Yeah?" She raised an eyebrow. This was good, very good. She laughed again and jerked her chin toward the wheel, kicking lightly with her sneaker. "What do you think? How's it look?"

He got up and went over to inspect her work, thankfully not as tipsy as he could've been. She'd lowered the jack and the car was resting on its own weight. "Hmm," he said, and pried the hubcap off.

"What?"

"Gotta check how tight the nuts are."

She laughed outright and it was his turn to roll his eyes.

"Come here, look." He took the wrench and turned the top nut a quarter turn. "See? That's too loose. Now what you gotta do is put that wrench on and stand on it until it won't turn anymore. Use your body weight, all right?"

She nodded and didn't yell, which was good, then she took the wrench and tightened up the rest of them until the wheel was secure.

"Okay now?" she said, lifting the hubcap.

"Yup. Yer good."

She smiled back at him, brilliant and grease-streaked. "Thanks. Want to help me put this stuff away?"

"Nope."

Stella let out an offended laugh. "Ray!"

"Nope. You start, you finish."

"Yeah, yeah." She rolled her eyes once for good measure, and he grinned back at her. It was good. They were good.

He collected the empties while she shoved the jack back into the wheel well, stowed the tools, and thrust the tire into the place of the spare.

"Did you check the pressure?" he asked.

"Yeah, it's full."

"Ok, good. I won't bother to switch it back then--unless you want to do it."

"Not it," she said, and took the last beer out of his hand, chugging the last quarter of it.

"Who woulda thought that under all that grease you were a lawyer in training?" he murmured, pulling her against him.

"Who woulda thought?" The kiss was warm, perfect.

"Mmmh." He shifted against her and thrust forward a little. "Me."

"Lucky you."

"Yup. Come on. I got a shower upstairs with your name on it."

Her eyes sparkled at him. "Gonna wash my back?"

"Mm-hmm," Ray said, "and then some."