All I Need

by Jennifer Van Wyk

  I look both ways and cross the highway. Even before I cross the yellow line, I recognize her beauty. And the fire in her eyes. Her dark blonde hair is curly but wild, her chest heaving up and down rapidly. She’s sexy as hell in the short cut offs but that sliver of skin I can see beneath her barely buttoned white shirt is where I zero in.

  “What do you want?” she sasses, lifting her chin in what looks like a threat to defy her next move.

  I eat up the pavement between us but don’t get too close. Sexy or not, I’ve witnessed her violence already and figure I’m probably safer with a bit of distance between us.

  “I don’t think you want to do whatever you’re about to do.”

  She slowly lowers the weapon in her hand to the ground and uses it like a cane to lean on. “And you know so much, huh? You think you know what I want?”

  “Nope, but I do know that the car you’re about to beat the ever loving shit out of with a golf club is worth about eighty grand.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s not mine anyway.”

  “Stolen?” I wince at the accusation—or maybe it’s at the fear of what she’ll admit.

  “Yup.”

  She offers no further explanation aside from cocking a hip to the side.

  I glance over my shoulder at my pickup to see Grayson leaning across the console, watching our every move.

  Shit.

  Gesturing to the clothes in the ditch, I ask, “Didn’t want those anymore, I take it?”

  “Nope.”

  I sigh, realizing that this gorgeous woman before me isn’t looking for help. Even with that realization, though, I can’t stop myself from wanting to step in.

  “Look, I don’t know what happened and I have no doubt in my mind that whatever the owner of the clothes and, my guess is, this car, did, deserves every bit of what you’re about to do, but I’d really hate to see you go to jail for vandalism.”

  She takes a steadying breath and I watch as she thinks over my words.

  I scrub a hand through my short dark hair and place my sunglasses on top of my head so she can see the sincerity in my eyes.

  “I obviously don’t know you but it appears this is your current mode of transportation and I’m not sure if you’ve taken a look around you, but there’s not a whole lotta ride shares around here. I’m not trying to tell you what to do, but I suggest you hold off on doing too much damage to this thing.” I rest a hip against the side of the car and lean a little closer. “At least until you get to where it is you’re going.”

  “You seem to think you have the right to have an opinion in this.”

  I hold my hands up in the air. “Nope. Just trying to help a traveler out.”

  She glances at my pickup and I follow her eyes. Grayson is now propped up against the tailgate of my pickup, arms folded over his chest and ball cap on backwards. He’s the picture of teenage cool. I didn’t even hear the door slam shut when he exited the truck.

  I nod my chin in his direction. “You wouldn’t want to taint a young man’s innocence, now, would you?”

  She scoffs, clearly seeing through my bullshit. “Innocent, huh?”

  “I’m hardly innocent, Walker!”

  Damn him and his good hearing. “Stay out of it, Grayson,” I shout, turning my head but keeping an eye on the gorgeous woman before me. I can’t imagine what she’ll look like when she smiles if she’s this incredible looking with a scowl on her face.

  Our highway guest scrunches up her pert little nose and folds one ear piece of her sunglasses over the buttons down the center of her shirt, causing it to dip just slightly. The starkness of her bright blue eyes against the smoky eye makeup is startling for a solid second. I take another good look at her and piece together what is possibly before me. A woman scorned, no doubt. But possibly even worse than that, a bride scorned. Unless she looks this put together every day, but my guess is she was done up for something special.

  Lips the color of the ripest strawberry, finger and toe nails looking like they’ve just been freshly painted, and hair pulled back on the sides by pretty little beaded headpieces, she’s everything I expect a bride to look like on her wedding day, minus the big gown, of course. I glance over my shoulder at Grayson one more time. Smirking little shit needs to find himself that bowl of popcorn he was wanting earlier for how interesting he seems to find this entire situation.

  My chest heaves as I decide what my next steps should be for fear that she’ll use that club on me rather than the car windshield.

  “I’m Walker McKinstry. That nosey shit behind me is my nephew, Grayson. I’m sorry to interrupt what looks like was about to be a good workout for you, demolishing this car and all.”

  “You trying to be a smart ass, Walker?”

  The corner of my lip curls up at her immediate use of my name. “No ma’am.”

  “Ma’am? What are you, some southern gentleman? I’m not an old lady, if anything I’m a miss.”

  “Definitely not an old lady.” I stare at her feeling completely out of my league with a woman for the first time in, well, hell, I don’t know. Probably since I was Grayson’s age and about to lose my virginity to a girl two years older. Having a twin sister helped me feel comfortable around women my entire life. I never went through that shy stage of not knowing how to talk to girls… until now. “Want to tell me what the car did to you?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Alright. How about, you got a plan? Anywhere you’re heading in particular?”

  “My only plan is not going back.”

  “Seems to me that makes perfect sense, even not having a clue what you’d be going back to.”

  She hums in agreement, looking down at the golf club still in her hand. She scrunches up her nose again and fuck if it isn’t the cutest little mannerism I’ve ever seen.

  “Stupid fuck,” she mutters before flinging the golf club through the air. It lands with a puff of dirt in the field. I’ll have to call the Wagners who own that piece of property. Let them know that they have what appeared to have been a pretty nice set of clubs strung throughout the field.

  “He fucked up big time, huh?” I risk the guess.

  Holding up her left hand, she shows just a small distance between her thumb and pointer finger. The sun glistens off a huge diamond ring, bringing me back to my conclusion that she’s a bride. Or was one.

  “Nice bling you got there. Should bring in some good money.”

  She looks down at her finger, curling her other hand around it as if embarrassed it was still on her finger. Then she shrugs, shaking off whatever she was feeling just moments before. “Probably. Figure I about devoted my entire life to that douchetwat, might as well get something out of the deal.”

  I nod, not really giving a shit either way considering it’s her life.

  “So you know my name and my nephew’s name. Any chance you’re going to share yours with the class?”

  Her blue eyes assess me, likely trying to decide whether or not I’m trustworthy enough to know her name. She bites her bottom lip and after what feels like an eternity, says in a sure voice, “Ellie.”

  “Ellie, huh?” I almost cringe at the way it comes out accusatory so I reach out a hand to her. She takes a small step forward and gives me a firm handshake. “Nice to meet you, Ellie.”

  “Same, Walker.”

  “Don’t take this the wrong way—“

  “You know that’s a terrible way to start a sentence, right?”

  I smile and rub the back of my neck. “Actually, I do. My sister is always telling me the same thing.”

  “Sounds like a smart woman.”

  “That she is. Well, as I was saying, or about to ask, I guess, do you have any idea where you’re heading? Or just out for some early evening destruction of property to get your night started out right?”

  “Property destruction was all I really had on my agenda for the evening.”

  “About finished with that now?”

  “Not much left to destroy s
ince some fun hater stopped me from completing the job.”

  I bark out a laugh. “I know. I’m such a buzz kill, wanting you to keep your mode of transportation safe, at least for the time being, that is.”

  She twists her lips and shakes her head. “I bet you were a tattle tale in grade school. Never let anyone else have any fun.”

  “Only when Molly Jensen stole my cupcake in the third grade.”

  “Dessert thieving is the worst kind.”

  “You get me.”

  “I take my desserts very seriously. Especially chocolate cupcakes. Please tell me it wasn’t a chocolate cupcake.”

  I nod sadly. “It was. With peanut butter frosting. My mom made them special just for me.”

  She clutches her chest. “The horror!”

  “Right? So, now that you know I’m not a total fun hater and that I’m actually a pretty cool guy, how about we figure out your next steps.” I nod my head toward the car.

  “Like I said earlier, I’m not going back,” she says stubbornly, misinterpreting my meaning.

  “Moving forward, I like that. And for the record, I didn’t mean you going back to wherever it is you came from. Where do you want to go? What do you need?”

  She looks around and I follow her eye. In the distance, I see my house. Even with the miles between where we’re standing and where it’s sitting, my home is impossible to miss. Not because it’s so big, but because it’s on top of a huge hill.

  When my vet clinic became a little more successful, I hired a friend from high school who was down on his luck a bit to help me build my house. It helped him get on his feet and after word-of-mouth spread, he has become quite the successful contractor.

  “Quiet,” she murmurs and I can’t figure out if she’s ordering me to be quiet or if it’s something she’s seeking. Her next words, however, clear it right up. “My entire life I’ve been surrounded by loudness. I need quiet, peace and calm.”

  That’s all I needed to hear. “Follow me,” I demand and for some reason she doesn’t question me. She simply nods once and bites her bottom lip. Tears well up in her eyes but she sniffs and shudders, seemingly shaking off the emotion that’s taking over.

  I resist the urge to reach out to her and hold her hand or, heaven forbid, pull her into my arms, because I’m pretty sure she’d cut off something valuable of mine if I did so. But the desire to comfort Ellie, this beautifully sad woman, is so strong, it feels like going against nature to not follow through.

  I walk back across the highway that’s been unusually quiet this entire time, and gesture to Grayson to hop back in the cab of my pickup.

  I start it up and pull off the shoulder, waiting for her to do a U-turn in the middle of the highway to get behind me.

  “Saving the damsel in distress?”

  “You saw her—she’d likely cut off your family jewels if she heard you call her that.”

  Grayson laughs but then shifts in his seat and swallows hard.

  “That would be unfortunate. I’m pretty sure I’ve got gold stars in there just waiting to make their mark on the world.”

  “But not for another fifteen years, yeah?”

  He rolls his eyes but grins. “So where we heading? I’m still hungry, you know.”

  “Relax. Just getting Ellie settled somewhere safe for the night so she can decide where she needs to be.”

  “Miss Polly’s then, huh?”

  I look at him out of the corner of my eye but he’s just staring out the windshield, an elbow resting on the door. He knows as well as anyone in this town how safe Miss Polly’s is.

  I TELL MYSELF TO STOP the car, turn around, do anything but follow Walker’s command to follow him but for some reason I can’t get my body to catch up with my head.

  I do exactly as he told me to and follow his beast of a black pickup back the way I just came. Out of the driver’s side window, I can see his elbow sticking out as he leans against the door, driving with just his right hand resting on top of the wheel.

  “Stop it,” I mutter, annoyed with myself for noticing every little detail and paying closer attention to watching him through the back window of his jacked-up pickup than my surroundings.

  The only thing I know about Walker McKinstry is just that—his name. And the fact that he’s drop dead sexy with his arm tattoos and scruff, and has a nephew named Grayson. He could be a serial killer, his nephew could actually be someone else entirely—like his accomplice. Maybe they drive around searching for stranded motorists along the highway and tell them to follow and… oh God. I’m such an idiot.

  My heart begins racing as my mind plays a loop of all the horror movies I’ve ever watched. Dumb girl follows muscles around with her tongue hanging out and bam! She’s the next victim.

  I reach down and do a quick check of my phone to make sure I have plenty of bars and battery, you know, in case I need to report an attempted murder. The little red box next to my text message icon reads 42 and I’m sure if I opened up my voicemails it would be similar. But right now, in my mini crisis of wondering if I’m the next casualty of the gorgeous highway murderer, the people on the other end of my phone don’t bring me an ounce of comfort.

  Just before we reach Liberty, the same town I had driven through about an hour before. Before I decided I needed to get rid of all of Gary’s possessions carefully packed and placed in the trunk for our honeymoon—gag. Following Walker, I turn down a side road. To the left is an enormous Victorian style home with a sign out front that reads The Clover Leaf Inn.

  He pulls off on the side of the road and parks in front of the almost majestic house, waving his arm slightly to direct me to park in the driveway. Which, of course, I do, because I’ve apparently lost all sense of reason and have become his little pet.

  I sit in the driver’s seat of Gary’s pretentious Mercedes, annoyed that the soft leather seats are like butter against my skin, and stare at the gorgeous home. With its pale-yellow siding and bright white shutters that match the beams bracing the wrap around porch, it closely resembles a doll house I once had as a young girl. A sense of nostalgia hits me as I recall the birthday my parents gave it to me when I turned eight. Little did I know at the time; the extravagant gift was only to soften the blow of the news that they were getting a divorce.

  Slowly climbing out of the car, I don’t take my eyes off the Inn. The landscaping around the porch is obviously cared for a great deal. Large green and pink hydrangea bushes are in full bloom and rose bushes of varying shades are trimmed to perfection. It’s breathtaking.

  I reach inside and grab my purse off the passenger seat and shut the car door and pressed the button on the key fob to lock the door. Before I take my first step, the screen door squeaks open and a curvy gray-haired woman with an apron on walks out. She lifts a hand to wave me over but my feet stay grounded. Suddenly Walker is by my side.

  His nearness catches me off guard and I startle. He cups a hand around my elbow to steady me. The contrast of his calloused palm on my soft skin sends a zip through my body. “That’s Miss Polly,” he says simply, not giving me any more to go off of than her name, much like I know about him.

  I turn my head to look up at him rather than the house. His eyes a deep shade of brown stare back down at me. “You’ll be safe here. Miss Polly, she’ll take good care of you.”

  “I’m supposed to believe you, huh?” I can’t help but snark.

  His hand is still touching me and much to my dismay, I like it a little too much.

  “You can trust me.”

  Four words.

  That’s all it takes to bring me back to reality. How many times have I been told that before? When my parents divorced and my mom said I could trust her, that life would carry on as a new normal and they’d both still be there for me. Even though they’d never really been there for me to begin with. I spent most of my childhood alone then Dad moved away, leaving me alone with Mom who blamed me for the demise of their marriage. My nights were spent not knowing if she would co
me home. An endless string of men coming in and out of the house and I was just in her way. The unfortunate baggage she was left to deal with. I learned early on how to cook basic foods simply because she wasn’t there to do it for me. The local food pantry had a back door that I would sneak into to fill our cupboards. Mom never questioned where it came from. Never cared enough. As long as I wasn’t bothering her or asking her for anything, life was good.

  One would think it would be the ideal way for a teenager to live. No parental supervision. It’s not. Nothing could be further from the truth. If I didn’t have the support of one of the counselors at the high school, I never would have received the financial aid and scholarships that allowed me to go to college because she certainly didn’t care what my future looked like.

  I was just a sophomore in college when I fell in love with Michael—and his family. He asked me to be his wife only a few months after we started dating. He was a few years older than me and about to graduate and didn’t want to leave without me. Everyone told me I was crazy but I had spent so much of my life searching for love and when I finally had it, there was no way I was letting go. Especially when his parents had welcomed me into their family with such wide-open arms. It was an incredible feeling, to have unconditional love, people who supported me, remembered my birthday. It’s why I ignored all the signs of who he really was. A few months before our wedding day, he cheated on me. Of course, I didn’t find out he got the woman pregnant until I was about a week away from walking down the aisle. And I only did because I overheard him talking about it with his best man.

  One-night stand or not, I knew I would never be able to look him in the eye again and not think about him with another woman. It messed me up. I couldn’t trust my own instincts with men. I had no basis for knowing what true love looked like. Looking back, he wasn’t a bad guy. Sure, I was needy and likely overwhelming with my desire for reassurance and declarations of love, but it’s no excuse. If he wanted out of the relationship, he should have just said so. Even with friends, I wouldn’t allow myself to open up or let people in. Then later when Crystal introduced me to Gary—the pompous ass—they both said I could trust them with my life, my heart. And well, we know how well that turned out. I was such an idiot. How did I not see it happening?