Indigo decided her lunch hour was the best time to go to the repair shop. It was only three blocks from her boutique and she didn't want to drive her truck during rush hour in that calamitous condition.

It took her a while to pull up to the destination Emery had typed into her phone. She did have to squint through the cracks and slither like a slug down the road.

Once she pulled up in front of the fire station. Wait! Fire station! She checked the address in her phone, the one she let Siri navigate her to. The number and street name were right. It was the place: 3915 Paramount. There was no signage hanging on the fire station's brick frame to quell her confusion but the candy apple red Chevy Nova in the parking lot caught her eye so she pushed her nerves down and climbed out of her truck.

Early 2000s hip-hop boomed from surround sound speakers and chilled air blasted on all the skin her blush spaghetti strap blouse didn't cover. Her lust was real as she held back her curls to gawk at the 1966-era vehicle. She wanted to touch it, glide her hands over its hard, sleek body. Her mouth watered as she bit her bottom lip and stood back up.

"Ma'am, can I help you?" a deep voice asked.

Indigo jumped before turning her head in the direction of the baritone. "Umm," her words got lost somewhere between her brain and her mouth as she let her eyes roll over the raven-haired, almond-eyed man evading her space.

Her brain began to thaw and she spoke the first words that came to mind. "I'm in love."

The man kicked up his thick eyebrows in confusion.

"With this car," she continued, looking back at the vehicle then back at him then something else caught her attention.

She rushed past him, brushing against his arm in her haste. "Oh My God in heaven!" she squealed. "Is this a 1968 Plymouth Barracuda?" her excited words rushed out as she quickly looked back at the man then back to the car.

She saw something else and her path quickly changed. She almost ran into him but he quickly used his hands to guide her toward the vehicle and away from his foot. "And a..." She stopped with a gasp and held her heart. "A '68 Firebird. I could cry."

He snapped his spindly fingers as a smile grew on his handsome face. "You're Indigo." He placed his finger near his supple lips. "Emery told me you were coming in." His smile dimmed just a little less than blazing. "And Hazel texted me...which is strange 'cause I didn't know she had my number."

Indigo turned to him not realizing he'd been talking. "Huh?"

"Hazel texted that you needed a tune-up with a...winking emoji." The dress-shirt and denim jeans-clad man shrugged. "I don't know what the yellow faces mean but...I'd be happy to help." He held out his hand. "I'm Nathan."

She placed her hand into his. A spark coursed up her arm as he firmly shook her hand. "Indigo," she softly replied, barely loud enough for him to hear over the music so he leaned in and she caught a whiff of his Armani Code Black. "Indigo Clark."

He stood back up with a nod. "How may I help you, Indigo?"

For me, its a '67 Chevy Impala.