My fingers started to tap against my thigh, following the rhythm playing in my head as I added a low whistle to the mix—something I’d play if I were back at my house and lazily strumming my guitar. It helped for a while, but when my mindless tune went rogue and morphed into an unwelcome ballad, I shifted gears and went for a good ol' drinking song. By the third one my mood had significantly lifted, especially when I decided tonight’s drinks were on my brother as payback for getting me stranded—and after the day I'd had it was definitely a top shelf kind of night.
A devious grin tipped my mouth at that, and just as I switched from a low whistle to singing about having friends in low places, I paused as a bright glare from up the road caught my eye. Narrowing my gaze on the hazy image ahead, my grin widened when a familiar, bright red car slowly came into focus.
Shaking my head at this unexpected gift of good fortune, I picked up where I left off with my song and urged the horse forward into a lazy, graceful jog—eager to stare down the guy rude enough to leave me stranded and treat him to a special dose of southern hospitality.
Chapter Three
Andi
Somehow I knewthat when I pulled up to the tiny diner, appropriately seated on the outskirts of a town that time had seemingly forgotten, I’d be trading one form of torture for another—in this case forced isolation for unwanted attention.
As if the bells over the door clanging together to announce my presence hadn’t been bad enough, the handful of patrons who chose to gawk at me as I stood there in glorious awkwardness—swimming in head-to-toe black designer clothes in a sea of plaid and denim was far worse.
Fighting the urge to cringe against their stares, I self-consciously adjusted my dark sunglasses and quickly scanned the small room for a place to sit—one as far away from my overly curious audience as possible. My gaze landed on an empty booth in the far back corner near a small alcove with, of all things, an old-timey pay phone proudly mounted on a wall plastered with laminated vintage photos. I dipped my head and made a beeline for the booth.
“What can I get you, hon?”
My entire body jolted at the sudden appearance of a waitress—mere seconds after sliding myself into the booth and praying the worn, cracked vinyl didn’t rip my overpriced leggings. Thewoman either didn’t notice me startle or simply didn’t care as she graced me with a warm smile and smacked on a stick of gum.
“Coffee,” I said, finding my voice. “Black, please. Thank you.”
The waitress nodded, giving me a thorough, curious once-over before heading back behind the counter.
Releasing a heavy sigh, I flopped against the back of the booth and mindlessly stared through the large window as I waited for my much-needed dose of caffeine—exhaustedly attempting to recall where I’d gone wrong with my exits and how I’d ended uphere…not in Heaven but lost in some off-the-map town called Tarnation that had meandmy car sticking out like a sore thumb.
I should’ve just kept driving and found my way back onto the highway, but when I felt my car start pulling to the left somewhere around mile marker who-the-hell-knows, I knew I needed to pull off somewhere and take a break. My mind and my body were just too tired to steer properly, and this tiny diner had been the first sign of life I’d seen in hours—minus that cowboy on the road that’d scared the hell out of me.
Now that I was sitting still, reality started to sink in. I was lost. My stomach growled, reminding me I hadn’t eaten since that granola bar back at dawn. My limbs ached from hours behind the wheel, and my head was foggy from too much road and not enough sleep. I needed caffeine, food, and a new plan. Preferably in that order.
“Here you go, hon,” the waitress said, softer this time in her approach as she carefully set a cup of steaming coffee on the table in front of me. Guess she noticed my jumpiness after all.
“Thank you.” My voice was quiet as I reached for the cup and the comfort that came from its warmth. From the corner of my eye, I saw her lingering—studying me with a questioning look.
“You ain’t from around here, are you?”
“What makes you say that?” I asked, feigning the obvious as I spared her a look of my own through my sunglasses before flicking my eyes to the sidelong glances being shot in my direction from all the nosy busy bodies in this place.
“Don’t see many cars like that around these parts,” she explained in her gentle twang and added a soft laugh, pointing in the direction of my dad’s old muscle car. “What brings you to our neck of the woods?”
Although her question seemed polite enough, I stiffened at the intrusion of it—at the subtle assumption behind it.You don’t belong here. You don’t fit in here.Her curiosity didn’t seem cruel, but her guard was up because I was a stranger—a stranger who waltzed into a place where it was very obvious they didn’t get many newcomers.
It reminded me of those horrible social events Heath dragged me to—charity galas, business dinners, rooftop cocktail parties where, I know now, I was nothing more than the new accessory on his arm. People were intrigued and, once, when someone asked me a simple question about myself, I’d barely gotten three words out before Heath leaned in, all smiles for the crowd, and whispered in my ear, “You look better when you don’t talk.”
So no, I didn’t want eyes on me now. Not here. Not anywhere.
My chest tightened painfully, squeezing the air from my lungs as the older woman stared at me, waiting for a response.
“I’d rather not say.” The words tumbled out of my mouth harsher than I intended. Faster than I’d intended too. But my brain had reverted to defense mode when no defense was needed, and rather than simply replying with “just passing through,” I’d definitely set off her radar now.
“Didn’t mean no harm,” the woman responded gently. “Just trying to be friendly, that’s all. My name’s Belle and if you need anything else you just holler. Okay?”
I offered her a polite nod as she walked away to tend to her other customers. A long breath released past my lips, and my shoulders relaxed some as I shifted my gaze to the mug of coffee in front of me—allowing myself to get lost in its dark abyss as I contemplated what I was supposed to do now that I was lost inNowherevillewith the last bit of cash I’d scraped together dwindling faster than I could afford.
Releasing another sigh, I lifted the mug—getting it halfway to my lips only to be startled once more as the diner door swung open and a booming voice shouted over the clanging bells, “Woo-wee, Belle! What’d you do, go out and get a new car?”
Hot coffee sloshed over the brim of my mug and onto the table as my arm jerked from the unnecessary loudness of the man. I quickly reached for some napkins and wiped up my mess as Belle, crazy enough, entertained his poor joke and welcomed the noise.
“Willy, you old fool, you think I could afford that kind of car from selling farmers bacon and eggs seven days a week?” She laughed. “You’ve done lost your mind.”
