Mario had guessed as much. “No problem.” He gave the redhead an indulgent smile. Out-of-towners always overpacked. They hadn’t caught on to the concept of basic black, which meant you could get away with a much smaller wardrobe. Flexing his knees, he lifted the suitcase.

Shit, it really was heavy. A little flowered job like this wasn’t designed for this much weight. “You got bowling balls in here?” he asked.

“No. I just brought-”

She was interrupted by the rip of fabric giving way and the clatter of cans hitting the pavement. Tuna cans. Mario dropped the suitcase and grabbed a couple before they rolled under the cab. By the time he stood, the redhead was frantically trying to stuff the cans back through a fifteen-inch-long tear along the seam.

Her face was the color of a stoplight. “It wasn’t an expensive suitcase.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” Mario ignored the impatient honk from the cab behind him as he adjusted his Giants baseball cap and surveyed the situation.

“We’re holding up the line.”

“I know. Don’t panic. If I lift the suitcase up flat, it’ll go in the trunk without spilling. When we get to where you’re going, I’ll throw some duct tape on it.”

She blew out a breath in obvious relief. “Thank you.” Still blushing, she stood back while he maneuvered the ripped suitcase into the trunk of the cab. He only lost one can.

Snatching it from the pavement, she threw it in the trunk before he closed it. “Okay, let’s go.” She wrenched open the back door and got herself into the cab in short order.

Mario hurried around to the driver’s side. Tuna? As he pulled into traffic, he wondered if his instincts had been off. He didn’t want to saddle Zach with a nutcase. “Where to?” he asked.

“The Pearson Hotel, please. It’s on-” She gasped as Mario cut across traffic.

“Hey, don’t worry.” Mario usually had to reassure first-timers. “I know what I’m doing.”