"Hey!" I ran faster. Made the turn and sure enough…an older model pickup truck sat at an angle with a flat back tire. Its hazard lights were flashing, but an oncoming car making the bend would be hard-pressed to see the damned thing in time. "You can't do that."
"Can't do what?" A female voice called back.
The tailgate shuddered and inched upwards. I peered over the bumper, and there she was—kneeling on the ground, a bright pink sweatshirt beneath her. She pumped the handle on the emergency scissor jack. Short auburn hair danced around her shoulders with the effort. I glanced at the truck bed. A yellow sticker in the back left of the window said, "Baby on board." I blinked.There's a child?
"What the hell's wrong with you?"
She shot to her feet. "What?" She glanced around wildly.
I pointed at the cab. "You've got a child in the car?"
"Yes? What? Is she OK?” Her eyebrows lifted. “She was asleep." She rushed to the side of the truck cab to peer into the backseat window.
"Where's your emergency kit?” I moved to her side of the vehicle. “Warning triangles, reflective vest, something, you got anything?” I rapped my knuckles against the truck bed. It made a loud, hollow thump. “Otherwise, we gotta move this heap."
"Heap?” She whipped her head in my direction. “Where the hell doyouget off?" Dark eyebrows formed a deep scowl. She planted a hand on one hip. "I didn't ask for your help. Get lost."
What?"No one can see you. Idiot kids will take this turn too fast, like always, and then your inconvenient flat tire becomes deadly—for youand your daughter. We either need to cone this off, or we gotta move."
"But I just got it on the jack,” she groaned and gestured at the tire. “And there's no way I'm pushing this up the hill."
I huffed. "You don't push itupthe hill. You let gravity do the tough work. We'll let it drift backwards and get it to the shoulder on the other side."
She let out a sigh, but pushed past me to kneel beside the tire. The truck shuddered again and began to lower. I ran a hand over my face.Guess she’s got it.I walked to the back of the truck to keep an eye out. The sun dipped further. I glanced at the truck. Crossed my arms. Noticed my own running gear didn’t have much reflective material.And you’re an idiot.
A low, steady hum and the crunch of gravel against rubber caught my attention. “Car,” I barked out as I grabbed the bright pink sweatshirt from the ground. I pulled it over my head and barely managed to tug it down over my ribs. “Fuck it.” I leapt the rocks and ducked the cactus to get down to the highway. And stood in the center of the road waving my arms. Headlights caught the rhinestones and glitter or whatever the shit that stuff was called.I swear Barbie must’ve thrown up on this thing.
The car slowed to a stop. I waved and pointed at the bend in the road. The driver’s side window rolled down. "What's going on?"
"Flat tire. Up ahead."
The driver was a man with glasses and mostly silver-grey hair. Headlights blazed straight ahead, providing improved visibility. And rainbow sparkles from myborrowed Barbie-princess-playmate attire. I tried to yank the sweatshirt down. It pulled at the shoulders.
"You need some help?" One eyebrow lifted and his mouth tucked up on one side.
Yeah, yeah, laugh it up.
“No, I think we’re ok.” The chick truck owner appeared behind me and had the nerve to shake her head. "Thank you?—"
"Actually, yeah,” I cut her off. Was she serious? “Think you can help me get it down this incline so it's not a death trap?" I tried to hook a thumb over my shoulder, but the arm on the damned sweatshirt was so tight, I didn’t quite manage it. I growled and huffed. I look like a strip club reject.
“Gee, thanks.” She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Truck’s off the jack. Just needsone personin the driver’s seat”—she turned and scowled at me—"and oneto help guide it.”
The older dude nodded. He pulled his car off to the side of the road, into the dirt, then turned on his hazard lights.
"I don't need his help." She shoved at my shoulder. "I didn't need your help. And you're stretching out my favorite hoodie."
"Ugh, I hate it anyway!" I yanked the thing over my head and tossed it back at her.
She hissed. "I almost had it on the jack and then you?—"
"Just go take care of the baby," I gritted out. "I'll handle the rest."
She planted her hands on her hips and her eyes narrowed to slits—her petite, curvy figure on full display with her tied-off shirt and cutoffs. "How aboutyoutake care of the baby, tough guy?"
I chuckled. “I’m good with kids. Bring it.” I didn'tthink she meant it. Who would give a random stranger her child?
But the next thing I knew, I was on the side of the road with a young sleeping thing strapped to my chest. The mom pointed at me, then pointed at the older dude's wife. "Watch him, will you?"
