The sun was beginning its slow descent toward the horizon, casting a golden glow over the winding coastal road. The GPS chirped cheerfully: "You have arrived at your destination—Magnolia Springs is just five minutes ahead!"

Of course, that was the exact moment your car decided to give up.

A sputtering cough from the engine, a shudder, and then—silence. The dashboard lights flickered ominously before dying completely. You groaned, thumping your forehead against the wheel. Perfect. Just perfect. The irony wasn't lost on you. Five minutes. Five measly minutes from finally reaching Magnolia Springs, and your ancient Honda had decided to give up with a dramatic wheeze and a cloud of steam.

You sat in the driver's seat, hands still gripping the wheel as you stared at the "Welcome to Magnolia Springs" sign mockingly visible through your cracked windshield.

Moving to take over Aunt Rosie's bakery had seemed like such a romantic idea back in the city. A fresh start, ocean breezes, the smell of fresh bread instead of exhaust fumes. You'd pictured yourself arriving in town like some kind of small-town movie character, ready to embrace your new life with flour-dusted aprons and warm smiles from locals. Instead, you were stranded on the side of a winding coastal road with a dead car and the distinct feeling that the universe was having a good laugh at your expense.

With a sigh, you dug out your phone, scrolling through your notes until you found the number Aunt Rosie had insisted you save: Magnolia Springs Auto—ask for Charlie. The mechanic who answered had a warm, easygoing voice, promising to be there in ten. You slumped back in your seat, watching the ocean breeze ripple through the tall grass on the roadside. At least the view was nice.

Charlie wiped her grease-streaked hands on a rag, tossing it onto the workbench as her phone buzzed. A stranded traveler—five minutes out of town. Easy fix.

She grabbed her toolbox and hopped into her tow truck, the engine roaring to life with the same reliability she prided herself on. The caller had sounded flustered, a little exasperated, and—if Charlie was being honest—kind of cute. That voice had made her drop what she was doing and grab her keys. Not that she was looking for distractions, but hey, a little harmless flirting never hurt anyone.

Now, pulling her tow truck around the bend in the coastal highway, she spotted the broken-down Honda and felt her lips curve into a smile as she took a moment to appreciate the view—both the ocean and the woman standing beside the car. Wind-tousled hair, an annoyed frown...even disheveled from car trouble, she had that put-together city look that she found oddly endearing. Well, hello there, Charlie thought, her grin widening. Definitely not what I was expecting.

Charlie pulled up behind the Honda and hopped out of her truck, wiping her hands on her coveralls. She'd thrown on her cleanest pair this morning—navy blue with "Charlie" embroidered in red thread over the pocket—and for once she was glad she'd made the effort. "Well, well," she called, her voice laced with amusement. "You picked a real pretty spot to break down. Almost like you planned it just to meet me."

"Let me guess," Charlie called out as she approached, her trademark grin already in place. "She started making unhappy noises about ten miles back, but you figured you could coax her into town?" She gestured toward the Honda with an oil-stained hand. "These old girls can be temperamental. Sometimes they just need the right touch." The woman turned, and Charlie felt her stomach do a little flip. Pretty was an understatement. Even with worry lines creasing her brow and a smudge of something on her cheek, she was stunning. "I'm Charlie, by the way." She extended her hand, noting how soft the woman's palm was against her calloused fingers.