Billionaire Runs Out Of Gas On A Country Road, The Woman Who Stops Leaves Him Falling Hard For Her
A Stranded Heart in Maplewood
Sebastian Steel slammed the door of his matte black Aston Martin. He muttered a curse under his breath as he stared at the empty fuel gauge.
“Unbelievable,” he growled, tugging at the sleeves of his tailored navy suit.
The wind whipped down the deserted country road, kicking up dust and leaves. The only sound was the low hum of insects and the distant rustle of trees.
No cell service, no gas station in sight, and no assistant to fix it. Just him, stranded in the middle of nowhere, and he hated it.
Sebastian wasn’t used to problems like this. The billionaire tech mogul, who could buy out half of Silicon Valley, wasn’t supposed to be pacing beside a stalled car on a back road in Tennessee.
He was twenty miles from the airport, wearing Italian leather shoes that cost more than most people’s rent. He was late for a meeting in Nashville.
His private jet had touched down early that morning. Wanting a break from the chaos, he decided to drive himself through the countryside.
This was a mistake, clearly. He kicked at a rock and cursed again.
“Perfect”.
Then he heard it: gravel crunching under tires. A rusted blue pickup truck rolled over the hill, slowing as it neared him.
The driver’s window rolled down, and Sebastian caught sight of a woman behind the wheel.
“You all right?” she called out, her voice light but cautious.
Her chestnut hair was in a messy braid, sunglasses were perched on her nose, and a smudge of paint was on her cheek.
He stepped forward, brushing a hand through his hair.
“Ran out of gas”.
The woman tilted her head, giving him a once-over in that fancy car.
“Bad planning”.
He let out a dry laugh.
“Story of my life”.
She snorted.
“You want a ride to town, or are you planning on waiting for a miracle?”.
Sebastian hesitated. She looked young, maybe late twenties, wearing a paint-stained T-shirt and jeans.
Her truck had seen better days, but she didn’t look afraid. She looked amused, like she found the whole situation entertaining.
“I’d appreciate the ride,” he said finally.
She leaned over and popped the passenger door open.
“Hop in. I’m Olivia Price”.
“Sebastian”.
He climbed in, catching the scent of vanilla and something floral—maybe lavender.
“Thanks”.
She gave him a quick glance as they drove off.
“No last name? You one of those mysterious types?”.
He smirked.
“Something like that”.
The truck rattled as they bumped along the road. Olivia hummed along to the radio, tapping the steering wheel with chipped blue fingernails.
She was nothing like the women Sebastian usually met. There were no designer clothes and no perfectly curated Instagram smiles.
She was real, and it was oddly refreshing.
“So,” she said, glancing at him again. “What’s a guy in that suit doing out here with no gas?”.
“Trying to get away from everything,” he said.
She raised a brow.
“Everything meaning what?”.
He paused.
“Work, people, pressure, noise”.
Olivia nodded slowly, eyes back on the road.
“Can’t run forever”.
He looked at her.
“You sound like you’ve tried”.
“Maybe,” she said lightly. “Or maybe I just live here and know what kind of people end up on this road”.
By the time they pulled into the small town of Maplewood, Sebastian felt like he’d been transported to another world.
The main street had one diner, a gas station, a hardware store, and an art gallery with a hand-painted sign.
“Here you go,” Olivia said, parking in front of the gas station. “You can grab a can here and hike back to your spaceship”.
He stared at the gallery across the street.
“That yours?”.
She followed his gaze.
“Yeah, I run it. Paint everything in there, too”.
He looked at her again, this time really seeing her. He saw the paint on her face and the confidence in her voice.
He saw the way her eyes lit up, even talking about her art.
“You’re talented”.
“I’m passionate,” she said. “Talent’s just a bonus”.
He grinned.
“I like that”.
She raised an eyebrow.
“You flirt with every woman who saves you from being stranded?”.
“Only the ones who make me laugh”.
Olivia rolled her eyes but smiled.
“Go get your gas, city boy”.
He bought a red fuel can and filled it. He was about to call for a car when he caught sight of Olivia walking into the gallery.
Without thinking, he crossed the street. Inside, the space smelled like turpentine and lemon.
Sunlight poured through the large windows, casting shadows on the hardwood floors. The walls were filled with canvases.
There were bold strokes of color, abstract landscapes, and portraits that pulled emotion out of you whether you wanted it or not.
“You painted all these?” he asked.
Olivia turned, wiping her hands on a rag.
“Yeah”.
“Surprising”.
“Impressive”.
She gave a small shrug.
“It’s what I love”.
He looked around again, drawn to a painting of a woman standing on a cliff with hair blowing in the wind.
She was staring out at a sky streaked with gold and fire.
“This one… it feels lonely”.
She walked beside him.
“It’s about waiting for something that might never come”.
He looked at her.
“Has it?”.
Olivia held his gaze.
“Not yet”.
He didn’t know what it was about her, but something pulled at him. Maybe it was the way she didn’t try to impress him.
Maybe it was the way she saw right through him. Or maybe it was just that, for the first time in a long time, he didn’t feel like he had to pretend.
“Let me take you to dinner,” he said, surprising even himself.
She blinked.
“Dinner?”.
“There’s a restaurant over there”.
He nodded toward the old brick building across from the gas station.
“Let me buy you a meal. Least I can do”.
Olivia hesitated, then smiled.
“All right, but I’m picking the wine”.
