The Heart Wants What It Wants

“Oh sh*t. Oh, hell,” muttered Diana, and she quickly pulled over to the side of the rather deserted road.

She just made it, because there was a loud thump, what sounded like an final twang, and a sound that had the remarkable echo of a guffaw, and the car just died.

Well, passed out.

Steam came out from the hood.

“Oh no. No, no, no, no,” she muttered, as she got out of the car and walked around to the front.

She touched the hood and drew her hand back with a yelp.

Holy crap, it was hot.

And it was still steaming. At least there was no fire, that was good, wasn’t it?

Diana knew absolutely nothing about cars except how to drive them, and that was pretty close because she’d failed her driving test three times.

She was probably supposed to open the hood and look inside and poke around or something.

Gingerly, with the corner of her jacket and hoping it wouldn’t burn or stain, she managed to push the hood up and prop it in place.

Wow, there was more steam than there was supposed to be in there. And some of the steam looked pretty black, that couldn’t possibly be good, could it? She really didn’t think it could be good.

She should have known when things started going too well. She should just have known that everything was going to hell. She should have paid attention to her check engine light.

She was going to have to pay for roadside assistance, probably to get her car towed, then to get it fixed – and she had to get it fixed, it was her first car, the very first thing she had ever bought, the car in which she and Alex had made their getaway from far too many situations they shouldn’t have been in, it meant a lot to her. Besides, there was no way she could afford a new car.

But what choice did she have?

“Stupid car,” she muttered, and considered kicking the tire, but it didn’t seem fair.

Sighing, she went back to get her phone. She’d have to call roadside assistance and then see where it took her.

She was already trying to figure out a budget when she nearly dropped her phone, because it started ringing.

George was in Japan, and it was the middle of the day. He’d been working since seven in the morning. Days started early in Osaka, and they often went on late.

But at about eleven, he’d had enough.

Not enough of work. Work was great. He liked the part of his work that meant that he could travel as much as he liked, and he could collaborate with people everywhere. No, the part he didn’t like was that he’d been distracted. He’d been distracted for the last few days.

That was unacceptable. He was not supposed to be distracted. He was supposed to be focused. He was supposed to be…

He couldn’t stop thinking about her.

Diana.

A weekend dalliance – that’s all he’d thought it would be. That’s all it was supposed to be. But they had parted ways, and he couldn’t get her out of his mind.

They’d parted ways amicably. Diana hadn’t tried to get in touch with him, which he appreciated. He liked it when a woman knew the score and didn’t try to make things out to be more than they had been.

And yet.

He wished she had texted. Then he wouldn’t have been interested. Nobody wanted somebody who wanted you more than you wanted them.

But she hadn’t, and…

“Oh, hell,” he muttered, and he made the call.

“Hello?”

Diana hoped she didn’t sound like she was about to cry, though she felt like it.

“Diana. It’s George.”

“This isn’t your number.”

“I’m in Osaka. This is a number I use when I travel. What’s wrong?”

“Wrong? Nothing’s wrong. What could be wrong?”

“You sound like you’re about to cry, Diana.”

“No, don’t be silly! I’m not about to cry. I’m fine! Everything’s great! There’s nothing wrong.”

“Diana?”

“Fine, my car just broke down.”

“Don’t get inside and lock the door. It’s a mistake. Make sure you’re outside, and get the tire iron out.”

“What?”

“That’s how you can protect yourself if you need to.”

Diana drew herself up to her full height even if he wasn’t to see her.

“I don’t need to be protected. I’m just fine.”

“Where are you, exactly?”

Diana was startled enough to tell him exactly where she was.

“That’s great. Now, tell me how your day has been.”

“What?”

“Give me a second, Diana.”

Diana looked at her phone, frankly confused. Had the traveling addled George’s brains or something? This was so odd.

“Hello? Diana?”

“I’m here.”

“Great. So, tell me how your day has been.”

“George, I don’t think this is the time to talk about my day. It’s been pretty okay but it just took a turn for worse when my car broke down about twelve miles from my home. I’ve got the hood up but I’ve no idea what to do about it. There’s a lot of steam, and I don’t think the steam should be there because I don’t think my car is old enough to be powered by a steam engine, with coal shoveled by tiny magical creatures that have been enslaved by dark magic.”

The chuckle somehow made her feel a little better.

“I don’t think there’s a workshop in California that can fix your car if that’s your trouble. You might have to take it to Hollywood. I hear they might work magic there.”

“Don’t you think Broadway would be better?”

“Do you like Broadway?”

Diana leaned against the car and, absurd though the entire situation was, she relaxed and chuckled.

“I think I would like Broadway, but I’ve never been. I’ve been to a couple of off-Broadway productions with my friend, Alex. She’s been in a couple. She works as a marketing manager now, and she has fabulous clients, but she used to want to be an actress. She got three bad reviews in a row at that off-Broadway production of Cats and she gave up.”

“I don’t think she should feel bad about bad reviews in an off-Broadway production of Cats.”

“That’s what I told her, but they all singled her out and she was quite mad. So she went on a campaign against them, turning up at every play they reviewed and giving it a review contradicting everything they said, and posting it on Instagram. She’s an Instagram model, so she had quite a bit of influence even three years ago. Well, turns out that she was influential enough to make every play they thought should flop into a hit.”

“And she never thought of doing this for her own play?”

“No, she thought of it. She just decided that her way would be more satisfying because she was beginning to decide that acting was perhaps not for her. Anyway, it showed her what her real strength and talent was, and there has been no looking back since then.”

“I bet there hasn’t. Alex sounds like a remarkable woman.”

“She is my friend, so of course… Wait, there’s a car. Turn the lights down, you idiot, you’re blinding me!”

The car – wow, a really cute little Porsche, dark blue and gorgeous, even if she didn’t know cars, she knew that it was a beauty of a car – pulled up beside her.

“Miss David?”

“I… What?”

“That must be my guy,” said George, and the man did introduce himself as Thomas, George’s guy.

“What’s going on?”

“Miss David, Mr. Hemsworth has asked that I leave this car with you – it’s yours to use for now – and take care of your car for you.”

“What? George, what’s going on?”

“You can’t be stranded there forever, Diana. Thomas will get your car fixed, and return it to you. Now, I have to get back to work, but give him your contact details so that he can get in touch with you, will you? Enjoy your new car, Diana.”

He hung up, leaving her holding the phone and gaping at possibly the most unexpected situation she’d had in years.

“Thomas, this is very kind, but…”

“Mr. Hemsworth has already arranged for everything, Miss David. Here’s your key. And the duplicate, in case you need it. The registration and insurance are in the car. You do have your license?”