He waits a moment, holding the wedges, and I wave him off. I don’t know why my heart’s racing. It’s not exactly stealthy murder if he takes me out right here and now. Plus, shouldn’t he have a body camera, or a dash cam? If my phone wasn’t about to die, I’d turn on video.
Cool, yeah, then some poor sap who finds your phone can witness your untimely death after the fact. Great plan.
“I’ve got the tire, thanks.”
He nods and moves to place the wedges under the other tires. I honestly might’ve forgotten that part, so I’m glad he’s here.Assuming the absence of a major crime.
I don’t want to keep looking at him for fear he’ll get suspicious of me, and I don’t want to look away because it seems even more suspicious.
Even though I haven’t done anything wrong. I’m just anormal human woman traversing the Mountain West in search of a new beginning. And I’m gleefully leaving behind what had truly become a sad, endless loop of drudgery and drama.
So! Here I am.
Completely normal.
“All set.”
He walks back over to me, and I won’t call it a saunter just because he’s wearing a cowboy hat, but in my heart, that’s what it is. And as wrong as it might be, I can’t help noticing he has a very nice… everything.
Like honestly, everything from his tidy boots and perfectly fitting slacks to the clean shave of his jaw are rather magnificent.
Well done, Juniper View.
But also, wasn’t Ted Bundy supposedly extremely handsome?
“I’ll get the?—”
“I’ve got it.” I’m being weird. A jerk, even, but I’ve had about enough of people ordering me around, and Iamcapable of changing a tire.
He holds up his hands like he’ll leave me to it, and he does. I maneuver the spare out of the trunk, ignoring the rust on the hub, and get to work. He steps in just once, silently and without my asking, but somehow he avoids invading my personal space, and in another few minutes, the tire is changed.
“See!” I must sound like a child as I dust off my jeans and smile over at him.
His gaze isright thereand I still can’t quite see what color his eyes are thanks to the low light, but I can’t deny the actual architecture of his face is stunning. Piercing eyes, strong nose, thick brows just under the brim of his hat andbone structure that says he’s a perplexing combo of an Avenger and a fine art study in lines.
He has the unsmiling mien of a Mr. Darcy-style hero. But also. This is real life.
“Thanks for your help,” I say. I fear it sounds a touch breathless because he steps toward me, then holds out a card.
“My card. Includes the number for the station in case your journey to not-Wyoming ends up causing you any trouble. As long as you’re still in the county, we can help.”
I glance at the card but don’t really see the words as I blurt, “It’ll be fine.”
But a part of me is relieved to have this because I definitely don’t have the kind of car insurance that offers roadside assistance, and I didn’t spring for AAA because I’m not spending an extra dime on something I don’t need for longer than two days.
“Be safe, then,” he says, gives me a chin dip, and walks around the front of my car, no doubt eying it for more clues to whatever puzzle he’s putting together in his head.
Or maybe he’s just off to save some other more cooperative damsel in distress.
Will the duct tape holding the front bumper together make me seemlessconcerning to him? Who knows. I don’t have the mental energy to stress about it.
Whatever the case, I don’t exhale fully until I hear him get back in his vehicle. Then and only then do I take a moment to inhale and appreciate the delicious piney scent. The air is cool and fresh here in the mountains, and it feels like the exact antidote to the California smog I grew up in.
I settle back into the car since he’s still there, presumably waiting on me to leave, reassure Mr. Bingley once again, and take a deep breath.
One small obstacle conquered, and by this time tomorrow, I’ll have my feet on the ground and be hunting down a job and a place to live in Juniper View. I’ll disappear into the small-town life and figure out which way is up.
My engine putters to life and I stick to the speed limit to make sure I don’t attract any more attention from the hottie sheriff.
