Chapter Text
Lucy Chen has been sitting on the side of the road for at least an hour, if not longer. And in that time frame, not a single car has driven so far. Even worse, she has absolutely no service on her cell phone. Though she shouldn't have found that surprising, being that she is out in a middle of nowhere town, a little more than an hour and thirty minutes south of her Los Angeles home.
She came out all this way to check out an SUV that she found online. The listing seemed promising for the price the owners were asking, and since her current car was clearly on it’s last leg, as evidence by the fact she was currently stranded in the middle of bum fuck nowhere thanks to her once beloved baby, she knew she had to upgrade, if not for her own sake and safety, for Tamara’s.
Speaking of Tamara, she’s extremely thankful the girl is at school and not currently stranded with her. It’s one thing for her to be stranded on the side of the road and at the mercy of strangers, but it’s an entirely different thing for the 11 year old to be stranded with her.
The situation could be worse, she supposes. It could be summer. No one wants to be stranded outside in the middle of the day in a southern California summer. Fortunately for Lucy, today is a crisp and breezy fall afternoon.
And just as she finally gives up on waiting for a kind stranger to come to her aid and she starts walking ahead to see if she can find a gas station or house that she can borrow a phone from, her ears perk up when she hears a noise approaching, quickly growing closer and closer, until she finally determines it to be the load roar of an approaching engine.
Frantically, but also a bit on guard, she waves her hands in the air, signaling she needs help and the silver truck undoubtedly spots her, because it slows and pulls off to the shoulder right behind her broken down orange car.
"Need some help?" The handsome, tall, muscular stranger with a fresh buzz cut asks as he steps out from his truck, though his voice is gruff.
Lucy nods and looks the man up and down curiously, something about him looks strikingly familiar, though she can’t place it. Maybe it’s simply because she herself is a cop and he looks like he could be a walking poster boy for the LAPD.
He has piercing blue eyes, sandy brown buzzed hair, broad shoulders, toned biceps that peak out from behind his short sleeved short, and deep and authoritative drawl that she can’t help but find insanely sexy.
And if she has to guess, she assumes that the man is a bit older than her, just by how he carries himself, though his skin is still tanned and flawless and there are not any obvious blemishes or wrinkles that give it away, she can’t help but assume he is closer to her friend John’s age of 45 than he is to her 28.
Despite the involuntary and somewhat unwanted physical attraction and appreciation for the stranger, she continues to watch the good samaritan cautiously as he approaches, having unwittingly and irrevocably learned from her experiences during the past two and a half years of being a member of the LAPD, not every person who appears friendly and helpful can be trusted.
Regardless of his gruff exterior and her innate instilled apprehensions, the fact remains he has stopped and offered to help and she currently has no other options, so she accepts his help and extends her hand, introducing herself with a warm smile, “I’m Lucy. Lucy Chen,” though her other hand stays by her side in case she needs to make a quick grab for her off duty weapon if things go south.
"Bradford,” curtly replies the mysterious man, with a stiff nod, and he doesn’t meet her hand to shake it in return, instead making his way to the popped hood of her car as he begins a quick but thorough inspection.
"You live out this way?" Lucy politely questions the man as he prods about under the hood.
The man, going only by the name Bradford, does not meet her eyes and continues to poke around under the hood and mutters. "I grew up out here. Left a long time ago. Just came back recently because my old man passed away.”
"Oh,” her face falls and she earnestly and apologetically replies, “I'm really sorry to hear that.”
"Yeah," he mumbles roughly, though he doesn’t sound all that remorseful or emotional about his father's passing. He clears his throat, and with a rough edge asks, "So are we gonna keep playing 20 questions or do you want me to fix your car?”
()()()()()()()()
After a thorough examination, the Bradford man informs her that the issue at hand with her car is from a busted radiator hose.
Lucy groans loudly and wearily checks the time on her wrist watch and grumbles to herself, “Unbelievable! Un-freaking believable!. And on top of all this, there’s no way I’m going to make it back in time to pick Tamara up before school’s out.” She paces for a moment, then looks pleadingly at the man, “Do you happen to have a phone with service on you, or know of a place nearby I could get to so I can call for a tow and to make sure my friend John or his wife can pick Tamara up?”
Without a word, he reaches into the pocket of his jeans and pulls out his phone and glances at the bars of service, he has just one, but it should do, and as he hands her the phone, he adds, "I think I may be able to fix the problem with your car. Sit tight, I'll be back in a minute. My old man's place is just right down the road and he was a bit of a car collector, he has a similar make and model to yours and I’m pretty sure he has the part you need.”
Lucy’s fingers slowly pause over his phone screen and her mouth gapes slightly at his offer. "You don't have to do that, I can just..."
"No, it's alright. The car he had didn’t even run,” he hums to himself, “In fact most of the cars in his yard didn’t run. If you give me about ten minutes, I can be right back with everything you need to get back on the road and you can keep my phone with you until you make all the calls you need to.”
Before Lucy can protest, he is jogging to his truck and hopping in the driver’s side door, speeding off.
She watches as the truck dips further and further into the distance, his phone clutched in the palm of her hand and a nervous churning in her gut. Part of wondering if she can trust this man or if she should call 911, in case he’s a serial killer and heading home to get all the supplies he needs to kidnap and torture her.
And though her instincts have betrayed her before, something about this man seems genuine, and even if he wasn’t one for small talk and seemed no nonsense and to the point, he had stopped to help her when he didn’t have to and he his small act of kindness seems so sincere that she decides to give him the benefit of the doubt, though she won’t let her guard down all the way and promises herself to keep enough distance between them and her off duty weapon close enough within reach that she can defend herself if the need arises.
()()()()()()()()
Bradford returns shortly, just like he said he would. In fact, he probably wasn’t gone a full ten minutes.
Silently, he starts working, and Lucy watches him from a few feet away and takes the opportunity to tell him, "I appreciate you stopping for me. I didn't think anyone would ever come this way.”
"There isn’t much out here," Tim mutters. "My old man's place is a few miles back that way," he points back towards a long stretch of oak trees, though it’s clear the house is too far away to be seen from where they are. Then, he leans up from his crouched position and wipes his hands together, studying his work and mumbling, “All done. You should be good to go.”
She tentatively leans forward and observes his work. "Are you a mechanic?"
"I have been when I had to be” he elusively mutters, without much elaboration "It should be good now. Can’t say the hose I gave you will last forever, but it should at least get you home to your kid. You should probably take it to a shop and have a professional look at it.” He scowls and frowns at the dilapidated car. “Or maybe take it to a scrap yard, not really the safest car for a woman and her kid to be traveling in.”
She bristles, but grits her teeth and tries to ignore the snide comment, only because of how thankful she is for his help, and then she reaches into her pocket to retrieve the change she was given earlier after putting a full tank of gas in the car. Again, she extends her hand to him, this time not for a shake she knows he won’t return, but for repayment for his kindness and hastily she explains. “I–I know it isn't much, but it’s all I have on me and..”
"I don't want your money," he huffs and shakes his head, appearing offended that he is even being offered payment. "Keep your money. It was just a bit of my time and a spare part my dad had laying the house and he sure as hell won't be using it anymore."
Reluctantly, she nods and slips the money back into her pocket, though she wants to do something for him for going out of his way like that to stop and help her.
Without thinking, as she sometimes does, she claps her hands together and speaks the first idea that pops into her head.
Oh, I know! If you're free this weekend, why don't you come by on Saturday. My co-workers and I, we’re having a BBQ to celebrate Aaron’s promotion to P2. It's the least I can do to repay you.” She smiles, a sunshiny, sweet smile that even the hardest-hearted individual would have trouble saying no to. “I’m making dessert and I’ve been told I have the sweetest cherry pie there is.”
Bradford’s blue eyes dip up and down, he licks his lip, and his throat bobs, and she isn’t certain, but she can almost swear there is a hint of smile playing at the edge of his stern, plump lips. Wordlessly, he takes her work card she’s handing him and slides it into his pocket, both of their hands lingering on the card during the exchange longer than necessary, blue eyes locking onto to brown in a heated exchange that once again leaves a nervous flutter in Lucy’s stomach for the second time today, though this time it has nothing to do with worry over her safety.