At that moment however, my bravery cup runneth bone ass dry and I wrestled only with my sense of self-preservation.
And then he started walking. Toward me!
“You know what, buddy, you’re not going to get the chance to kill me because I am going to have a heart attack,” I declared as though I were somehow one-upping him by beating him to his murderous punch.
I unfastened the clasp of my seatbelt and it retreated with a zip as I looked in the mirror again, the heat rising in my cheeks and neck as I watched him get closer.
“Please don’t be a murderer, please don’t be a murderer,” I chanted as I reached to my left with shaking hands to release the latch on my door.
I hesitated before pushing it out slowly, not in any hurry for a lambasting, nor my imminent demise.
The first sound that filtered through the air outside the car—other than my own heartbeat—was crickets chirping and the crunching of his boots along the gravel as he approached.
His pace was purposeful and steady, but not necessarily urgent or hard against the road.
I tried to swallow as I twisted my body to lift my legs out of the car and place them down on the road.
My Converse sneakers met the dirt and I leaned my weight onto them feeling my knees shake as I exited the cabin.
As I stood upright, I heard the man’s crunching steps come to a stop behind me some ten to fifteen feet behind where my car had screeched to a halt.
Unable to prolong the inevitable any further, I spun on my feet and turned to face the music.
The first thing I noticed was his scowl.
His eyebrows were low and furrowed, with two parallel lines etched between his eyes as he glared at me. My chest tightened.
It was too dark to make out what color his eyes were and his lips encircled by a thick, full beard were pressed into a straight, flat line.
The way his hands gripped his narrow hips emphasized the broadness of his chest and strapping width of his shoulders in contrast, and his chest rose and fell with his measured breathing.
“You alright?” he barked, his voice firm and gravelly, sounding harsh like his concern was merely a formality before getting to what he really wanted to say.
His shirt fit him well enough that his stomach muscles drew inwards and tensed at his words which did not escape my attention. Were it not for the deep frown on his face and displeased demeanor, I would have thought him incredibly attractive.
Again, I went through the motions of swallowing, but my mouth was too dry to have the desired effect.
All the moisture in my body seemed to pool in my palms as I wiped them against my jeans.
“I-I’m fine … are you? Okay, I mean?”
I struggled through a clumsy response and his eyes narrowed at me.
There was a quality about the way they glinted, even in that darkness that told me his eyes were light colored, though I couldn’t tell if they were blue or green.
The more I looked at him, the more I struggled to keep a grasp on the circumstances that had brought us to this moment.
“You been drinkin’?” he asked sternly.
I started at his directness and suddenly I remembered.
Oh yeah, I almost killed us.
He had every reason to believe I was driving incapacitated and I let the surprise of his brusqueness pass before shaking my head.
“No, I—”
“Fall asleep at the wheel?” he interrupted me tersely and immediately my cheeks, neck, and ears erupted into flames of embarrassment.
Through my mortification, my ears picked up the drawn-out syllables of a southern drawl. Possibly from years of watching movies, I had a slight tendency to romanticize anyone with a southern accent. This absurd facet of my subconscious decided right then and there that I wanted this accented giant to like me and I rushed to defend my actions.
“No, I swear it was nothing like that, I just … I’m not from around here and …”
I saw his chin tilt upward as he regarded me with something akin to cautious curiosity from under his heavy-lidded eyes, so I forged on with my weak excuse.
“I have been driving perfectly for like seven hours, then the one second I veer off to the left, there’s another car coming right toward me!” I explained ending with a nervous, shaky laugh, my arm lifting from my side and falling back against my thigh with a slap.
He didn’t laugh, but the severity of his expression downgraded from arctic to glacial as he continued to stare at me.
I cleared my throat and looked down at the road between us repentantly.
“I’m really sorry, I’ll be more attentive from now on, I promise it won’t happen again,” I said crossing my heart and hoping the sincerity I tried to impart in my tone and expression would be enough to unlock myself from the pit bull-like grip of his castigation.
His glower held for a few more seconds and I held my breath as I waited until finally his chin lowered and his eyes dropped to the ground as he sighed.
“Don’t worry about it, just … be more careful,” he grumbled, as though he was disappointed that I’d not been more indignant and combative.
He glanced back at me for a moment and my heart rate picked up again for a different reason.
He was really gorgeous. And that southern accent? Oh God, yes.
He turned to go back to his truck and it was then that I remembered that I was still lost, and it was now completely dark.
“Uh … sir … before you go,” I called after him and he stopped and glanced at me over his shoulder.
He then turned his body fully around and brushed his palm across his bearded jaw.
Holy shit, he is otherworldly attractive, I thought, noticing how even the voice inside my head sounded breathless.
His hands were back on his hips and his knee was cocked to the side in a stance that translated universally as, I don’t have time for this.
Carrying on because I didn’t have a choice, I cleared my throat and drew my eyebrows together pleadingly.
“So … not that you owe me your help given that I almost just killed you, but … I think I’ve just spent the better part of an hour driving in a circle so if you could please just tell me how to get off this mountain or somewhere with cell reception, I would be really, really grateful,” I said clasping my fingers together pleadingly.
His expression was inscrutable as he stood there staring at me for what seemed like forever. I didn’t get the sense that he was considering my question so much as he was considering me, and what to make of me.
Once again finding myself in the vise-like hold of his stare, I shifted on my feet uneasily and was about to tell him to forget it when he finally spoke.
“Where are you headed?” he asked, his question still concise but softer and without the same brusqueness as before.
“Well, for now … anywhere there’s a hotel, motel, bed and breakfast, or guest house for rent would be nice, but … if you can get me out of here, I am sure I’ll come across something.”
His eyebrows furrowed again like my answer confused him.
“Where specifically were you trying to get to?” he asked again, his voice re-adopting the directness from earlier.
I cleared my throat. He was intimidating.
“Boston,” I replied realizing how ridiculous that sounded considering where I was.
“Might I suggest you delay any further traveling until tomorrow,” he stated prosaically. “You’re not going to make that trip tonight,” he said looking at me with something akin to condescension.
I lifted my chin and squared my shoulders finding some gumption before responding. “Well, sir, that is exactly why I asked after accommodations,” I replied with a slight edge in my tone.
He observed me for a moment longer before nudging his chin in the direction I’d been traveling in.
“I’m going to turn my truck around and pull out ahead of you, follow me until I’ve stopped.”
“Where are you leading me?”
I asked my tone laced with a hint of cautious reticence.
“I know a place you can stay the night. It’s in town so you won’t have to go out of your way to find breakfast in the morning, there’s a supermarket if you need supplies, and it’s pretty much a straight shot back onto the highway.”
I paused at his words and stared at him in surprise, not sure why he was suddenly being so helpful since I seemed to have done nothing but annoy him for the past five minutes.
Ultimately though, I decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth and quickly reminded myself to be grateful for the abetting shift in his mood.
“Thank you! That sounds …” I struggled to find an adequate superlative to finish the thought and his lips hitched up at the corner of his mouth as though it took some effort on his part to do it.
“You’re welcome,” he said with a nod and then turned and headed back to his truck.
I watched him and took a moment to observe his gait as he walked away from me.
He had a physical kind of confidence that made his stride more like a saunter.
His hips shifted from left to right in an easy swagger some men wield effortlessly yet it was obvious from the tightness of his shoulders that he was still frustrated from our exchange.
“Good Lord … you sir, are going straight into the spank bank,” I muttered under my breath before the sound of his truck door slamming shut shook me from my objectifying thoughts.
I got back into my car and put it in drive, waiting and watching in my rearview mirror as he easily maneuvered his huge truck through a perfect three-point-turn and pulled out ahead of me.
He stopped for a beat as though signaling to me that he was ready to proceed, and I lowered my handbrake and pressed my foot on the gas to follow as he started to drive away.
Ten minutes later, he veered right onto what I thought was a runaway truck ramp and then made a sharp right at the end of it onto an unpaved road obscured by overgrown trees.
I tensed a little as the branches scraped the sides of my car and thought of my kidneys as my poor, mature-aged vehicle jostled roughly down the jagged road for about a quarter mile.
As we rounded a bend, I caught a glimpse up ahead where the road smoothed out and joined back up to what looked like a highway and my shoulders relaxed as I sighed with relief.
I glanced over to my cell phone and saw the signal indicator flash back to life letting me know that I was now once again back in the land of cell reception.
I glanced up at the lanyard on my rearview mirror and smiled.
“Thank you,” I whispered to my blue-eyed guardian angel.
** End Sneak Peek **
Coming November 12, 2019!
Read No Whisk No Reward
Also by Jiffy Kate
Check out their other works:
Finding Focus Series (complete):
Finding Focus
Chasing Castles
Fighting Fire
Taming Trouble
Table 10 (complete):
Table 10 – Part 1
Table 10 – Part 2
Table 10 – Part 3
Turn of Fate (previously titled The Other One)
Watch and See
Blue Bayou
Come Again
Neutral Grounds
The Rookie and The Rockstar
(New Orleans Revelers Book 1 – standalone)
Stud Muffin: Donner Bakery Book #2 Page 29