Free Finding Mr. Right Now by Meg Benjamin Page A

car’s been in a wreck, it’s not something he can sell down the road. Jesus, he’s a mechanic. He’s taking the SUV into town to fix it. That’s all there is to it!”
    Ronnie stared at her wide-eyed, one hand pressed against her lips. Tears trickled down her cheeks as she caught her breath in a sob. “I’m s-s-s-sorry,” she wailed.
    Brendan put his arms around her, pulling her against his shoulder. “There, there, you just cry it out, honey. It’s all gonna be okay.” Above Ronnie’s head, his eyes were like laser beams turning Monica to ash.
    Monica felt as if she’d just kicked Lassie.
    “Car’s coming.” Paul came to stand beside her, nodding toward the highway.
    “Probably our ride to Salt Box.” She slipped her purse strap over her arm and headed toward the roadside, ready to flag down whoever it was. Even if it wasn’t their ride, she was ready to beg anybody passing by to take them into town. Or maybe to take Ronnie to town and leave her here by the side of the road to contemplate her sins in private.
    The car that came around the curve toward them wasn’t exactly what she was expecting. She would have assumed it was a stress-induced mirage, except that she could hear the engine sound. It approached them with a well-polished, powerful hum, long, black and sleek. If they hadn’t been standing by the side of the road in northwestern Colorado, she might have thought it was the Batmobile.
    Paul whistled softly. “Holy shit.”
    “What is it?”
    “Lincoln Town Car. The limousine version. Not the newest, but sweet.”
    As it drifted nearer, Monica made out the letters painted in gold on the side: “Praeger House, Salt Box, Colorado.”
    The car pulled to a stop in front of them. The man who opened the driver’s side door looked like he belonged in a different movie. He wore jeans and a flannel shirt, along with thick-soled hiking boots. His brown hair was almost as long as Paul’s, and his dark beard stubble looked like what Billy Joe was trying to achieve and failing. Grizzly Adams with a limo.
    “You the folks who need a ride?” he asked, his voice a rumbling basso profundo.
    “Yes, sir,” Monica squeaked. She seemed to be having a “yes, sir” kind of day. She stepped forward quickly. “I’m Monica McKellar, with Fairstein Productions. We’re supposed to be at Elkhorn Run, but we had a problem with a deer.”
    The mountain man nodded once, his face expressionless. “Clark Denham. I’m here to get you into town. Supposed to be a couple of rooms at the hotel, but it’s the busy season—lots of hikers and fishermen around. If the hotel can’t handle all of you, you can head over to the Black Rose B&B.”
    “Great.” Monica licked her lips. Clark Denham clearly wasn’t part of customer relations. Probably the maintenance man who got roped into chauffeur duty. She turned back to the others. “Come on, let’s go. We’ll sort everything out when we get to town.”
    Billy Joe narrowed his eyes. “Is Fairstein paying?”
    She blew out a quick breath. “Yes, of course. Come on. We need to get checked in so that I can call the car rental agency and let Glenn know where we are.”
    Ronnie gave her a mutinous look, her lower lip jutting outward in a pout. “What about my stuff?”
    “It’s at the garage. We’ll pick it up when we get there.”
    “How do we know where his garage is?” She dropped her voice slightly. “How do we know there even is a garage?”
    Monica’s hands balled into fists. It occurred to her that she’d never screamed at one of the contestants before. Now she could scream at four of them in one fell swoop.
    “You could ask,” Brendan said, reproachfully. “It wouldn’t hurt anything.” His hand rested on Ronnie’s shoulder, probably the only thing that was preventing Ronnie from stalking off down the road.
    Well, that and the fact that apparently she really did want her stuff.
    You owe them. It’s your job. Monica took a deep cleansing breath and