Mia shook her thoughts aside as she realized she was coming to an intersection. The car in front of her sped up so as to make it through the yellow light and onto the other side. Mia, jittery and exhausted, slowed down and came to a stop, just as the light changed. “Come on, Mia, you can do this. In a few more hours you’ll go to bed and get some sleep.” Only to do it all again tomorrow. She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. It had to all come to an end eventually, didn’t it?
The light changed to green and Mia moved her foot from the brake to the accelerator, apparently not quickly enough for the person behind her, whose horn cut through the air in a loud blast. Gritting her teeth, she stifled the urge to flip the rude driver off and instead moved smoothly through the intersection, keeping her eyes on her mirrors. The car behind her waited until it had cleared the light and then swerved around her, blaring the horn again; in the corner of her eye, Mia thought she saw the driver make an obscene gesture in her direction as he or she passed her and jerked into the lane ahead of her, but she wasn’t completely sure. “Asshole,” she muttered under her breath, taking another breath to steady her frazzled nerves again.
Her mind began to wander again as the normal flow of traffic around Mia soothed her. Her mother’s diagnosis had been only the tip of the iceberg; more recently, thanks to the immune-suppressing drugs that helped to keep the worst of the symptoms under control, her mother had fallen ill with what had initially been nothing worse than a bout of flu. What started out as a nasty bug blew up almost overnight, and Mia had found herself in the hospital with her mother in the middle of the night, waiting to be seen by a doctor while her mother struggled to breathe with the fluids building up in her lungs. It had taken days of medication, IVs, a tube in her mother’s lungs to drain them, and dozens of other costly procedures before the hospital was able to discharge the older woman. And Mia had seen the bill they had given her mother; she knew that Amie would never, ever be able to pay it on her own.
Mia took one hand off of the wheel to smooth her hair back away from her face, sighing at the memory of all of the bills that had come before even the most recent one. Her mother would never be able to deal with everything—never again. Mia cringed, remembering the capable, determined woman her mother had been before the illness had started creeping up on her, sapping her of strength and making everything harder and harder. It’s not fair! Mia’s mind parroted the refrain at least once a day, and each time she told herself firmly what she had learned long ago: life wasn’t fair, and focusing on how unfair it all was wouldn’t fix anything. Work—that was what fixed things. But how could she fix her mother’s situation, when the woman was suffering with a chronic disease?
Mia felt a little tingle of relief when she realized she was almost home. The turnoff for her neighborhood was less than a mile up ahead, and after that it would only be another few blocks until she came to the little house she had rented. The neighborhood wasn’t the best, but she had managed to get a deal from the homeowner in exchange for agreeing to oversee some improvements to help him leave town faster. The house was tiny—one bedroom, one-and-a-half bathrooms, sparsely furnished with the secondhand items from the local charity thrift store—but it was her home, a little piece of refuge.
Mia made the turn, beginning to smile to herself. Catching her reflection in the mirror, she began to give herself a little pep talk. “You’re not doing as bad as you think,” she said, her voice barely louder than the stereo playing in the car. “You’re still holding onto your job, your last performance review was pretty good, and you’ll qualify for a pay increase in a couple of years. Not too bad at all!” She looked through the windshield and spotted the stop sign where the cops usually hid out on the main street of the suburban development; Mia was always careful to make sure she came to a complete stop at that one—she couldn’t afford to deal with a ticket on top of everything else.
She slowed down and pressed the brake, grimacing a little at the slight squeal she heard from the back of her car; the old sedan was gradually getting to the point when it would take more money than the car was actually worth to keep fixing it, and the sometimes noisy brakes meant another expense that she couldn’t really afford. Mia was grateful when the car obediently came to a stop right at the line, and told herself that the brakes would probably last at least another couple of months before she absolutely had to replace them or risk getting into an accident.
Right when she would have pulled through the four-way stop, Mia heard a squeal behind her—far louder than her brakes—and looked in her rear-view mirror in time to see a hulking, neon yellow sports car bearing down on her. Before she could even think of taking evasive action, the car lurched, and Mia jolted forward, the seatbelt slamming into her chest, reeling her back hard enough to make her teeth snap together in her head. Mia let out an involuntary yelp, her hands tightening on the wheel as the car shook from the force of the impact and her heart pounded in her chest, adrenaline flooding through her body.
She shook as the movement of the car stopped, her blood roaring in her ears, her breaths coming fast and short. “What the hell?” she said to no one at all. Shaken, Mia quickly took an inventory of herself; she couldn’t see blood anywhere, so at least she hadn’t been seriously injured. Her neck felt strange, but she didn’t exactly hurt. She was lightheaded, a little disoriented, but otherwise she thought she was okay.
“Stupid bitch! You ruined my car!” The words cut through her shock and Mia realized that the driver that had slammed into her from behind was already out of his car. The impact had driven her car through the four-point stop, but just barely. With shaking hands, Mia unbuckled her seat belt and turned the key in her ignition to shut the car off. Looking in her rear-view mirror, she saw someone—presumably the other driver—stalking back and forth, throwing his hands up in the air every so often. The adrenaline surged in her system once more as she reluctantly opened the door. She swallowed against the tightness in her throat and stepped out of her car.
Gathering up the tatters of her courage, Mia stepped cautiously towards the rear of her car. The driver of the car behind her was still striding around in almost-circles, muttering and occasionally shouting in anger at no one in particular. He was tall and slim, his black hair brushed back from his forehead, and in at a glance, Mia thought the man had had at least one parent from an Asian country. He was dressed in a sharply tailored suit that was probably worth more than her monthly pay, and up close the car he had slammed into hers—barely dented—was even more obviously expensive than she had originally thought. “Are you okay?” she asked, her voice cracking slightly.
The man wheeled around. “Am I okay? You destroyed my car you fucking idiot. Do you have any idea how much it will cost to fix this?” The man gestured at the barely tended front end of his car. Mia cringed, glancing at the much more damaged back bumper of her own car. The turn signal had shattered, and her trunk would never be the same again.
“You’re the one who hit me!” she said, anger stirring up inside of her.
“I hit you? What were you, asleep at the wheel?” the man was moving around in fast, agitated circles, pacing in front of his car, shaking his head. “It wasn’t a light, it was a damned stop sign, all you had to do was look and then go!”
“For your information,” Mia said, her anger increasing as the man’s tirade became more and more irrational, “there are almost always cops at this intersection and they ticket anyone who doesn’t come to a complete stop!” She looked around, wishing that those very same cops had taken the opportunity to be there to witness this particular incident. “It’s not like I can afford a freaking ticket!”
“Can you afford to fix my car?” the man glanced at Mia’s sedan, scowling. “Your maximum probably won’t even cover the deductible on getting this fixed.”
“You. Hit. Me,” Mia countered. “If anyone is going to pay for this, it’s going to be you.” She was shaking, adrenaline surging through her veins, making her heart thunder in her chest.
She could feel tears prickling in her eyes and willed them to stay where they were at least until she had gotten out of the unpleasant man’s presence; the last thing she wanted was for him to see her crying.
“I’m going to pay? Bitch, I have more lawyers than you probably have cats at your house…” Mia was still looking forlornly at the incredible damage to the back end of her car when the man’s voice came to a stop.
“I don’t have any cats,” Mia said absently.
“No, no of course not.” Mia glanced at the man; where just moments before he’d been yelling, stomping along the side of the road, explosive in his anger, now he was watching her with a strange look in his eyes. “Look, I overreacted, I’m sorry.” Mia stared at the man in unabashed amazement at the sudden change in his demeanor—and the apology that came with it.
“It’s—I mean, I can understand you’re probably shaken up,” Mia said, shrugging.
“No, no, it’s unforgiveable,” the man insisted. “It was all my fault; I wasn’t paying attention, and you’re right about that stop sign.” Mia blinked.
“I just…” she cleared her throat. “I’ve seen a lot of people pulled over right here.” Mia swallowed. “So I try to make sure not to give them an excuse.”
“That’s smart of you,” the man said. “How rude of me, I didn’t even get your name.” Mia shook her head, trying to jolt herself out of the multiple shocks she’d sustained in the last several minutes.
“Mia,” she said, extending her hand cautiously towards the man. “Mia Campbell.” The man shook it.
“Rami al-Hassan,” the man replied, bowing over her hand and giving it a gentle, barely-there kiss. “I want to apologize again for ruining your evening with my stupidity.” Mia extracted her hand from his grip, smiling nervously.
“It happens,” she said as graciously as she could. She couldn’t understand what had come over the man. Maybe he’s just one of those moody kind of guys. Maybe he’s having a bad day and this is what he’s usually like, not the way he was before.
“I insist that you let me take care of this,” Rami said, gesturing from his car to Mia’s. “It was my fault, and I should take responsibility for it.” Mia’s eyes widened as she felt a little wave of relief wash through her.
“I think that would be okay,” Mia said, blinking in surprise.
“Please give me your phone number so I can make the necessary arrangements,” Rami said, smiling down at her. Mia frowned, trying, in her addled state, to remember her number. After a moment it came to her and she recited it, smoothing her hair and clothes nervously. “Do you think you can make it the rest of the way home?” Mia looked at the damage to her car; it was all in the hind end, away from the machinery that made the car run.
“I should be able to make it,” Mia told him, giving herself a little shake.
“I’ll call you once I’m able to get some details about having your car fixed,” Rami said, smiling at her again. “Please let me know if you have any pain or injuries. I’m so sorry, again.” He took a few steps back and Mia took her cue to get back into her car. Mia shook her head again as she walked to the driver’s side door.
She got in and put the key back into the ignition, still marveling at the sudden change that had come over the man who’d hit her. “This has been some day,” Mia muttered to herself as she started the car. Rami’s tires squealed on the pavement and she watched as his sleek, hulking sports car darted around her and moved off down the road. Mia shook her head again, unable to quite believe the whole situation that had just unfolded, and pulled onto the road proper, making sure she didn’t end up getting hit a second time as she turned the car—a little shaky, but still operational—towards her block, and her home.
TWO
The next afternoon, just as she was getting ready to leave the school again, Mia’s phone vibrated in her purse. She pulled it out furtively, glancing around to make sure none of her students were hanging around outside the classroom; if one of them saw her talking on the phone they’d no doubt give her a hard time about it, since she constantly had to confiscate phones because of the school’s policy about using them in class. The number that flashed on the screen was completely unfamiliar and Mia felt a low dread, thinking that it was probably one of her mother’s debt collectors, calling to follow up on one of the medical bills. I thought we had them at least current—not more than a little late. Didn’t we work out a payment plan? Mia took a deep breath, preparing herself for an aggressive and angry threat about what would happen to her and to her mother if she didn’t arrange for a payment.
“Hello?” Mia closed her eyes, half-cringing already.
“Is this Mia Campbell?” The voice was strangely familiar, in a surprisingly polite tone. Well, if it’s a bill collector, at least they’re going with a polite and friendly opening.
“It is,” Mia said cautiously.
“I’m so glad to hear your voice,” the person on the other end of the line said. “This is Rami—the idiot who ran into you yesterday.” Mia sank down into her chair, relieved. “Are you still there, Mia?”
“Y-yes, I’m still here,” she said quickly. “Sorry, I just…it’s been kind of a long day. Did you need some information from me, something for the claim?” Mia frowned, reaching into her purse for her wallet; she was sure she had her insurance ID in there.
“No, no,” Rami said. “I wanted to let you know that I’ve made arrangements to have your car repaired.”
“Really? That was fast,” Mia said, staring down at her desk in surprise. “You must have great insurance.” On the other end of the line, Rami laughed.
“Not my insurance,” he said, and Mia thought she could hear him smiling. “I’ve got a mechanic downtown who said he would be able to take care of your car. It’ll be on me—no need for either of us to deal with insurance companies.” Mia felt a flicker of doubt; her father had cautioned her, before he passed away, against ever letting someone talk her into not going through insurance companies.
“Are you sure that’s a good idea? Isn’t that illegal?”
“No, not at all, just expensive” Rami said. “But I can afford it, and it makes my life easier. I’ve already made arrangements for the bills to come to me—you can call the mechanic to confirm it.” Mia caught her bottom lip between her teeth and worried it, considering.
“Well, if you’re willing to pay for it,” she said finally. “I guess I can call the mechanic.” Rami gave her a phone number and Mia wrote it down on the inside cover of her notebook.
“I was thinking,” Rami said, as soon as Mia confirmed that she had the number and would call the mechanic after they finished talking. “It might take him a few hours to get your car sorted out. I’d hate for you to be bored.”
“Oh, don’t worry about me. I can bring a book,” said Mia hurriedly. “Or—or I’m sure I’ll have work to do while I wait, it’s no big deal.”
“Or…” Rami said, his voice wheedling, “I could pick you up, take you out for coffee?” Mia frowned. That wasn’t what she had expected to hear from the man who had yelled at her for being an idiot just the day before.
“I wouldn’t want to put you out,” Mia said, looking around the classroom as she felt her cheeks beginning to burn with a blush. “I mean, I’m sure I can entertain myself fine.”
“It wouldn’t put me out, not at all,” Rami said. “I’ve a window in my schedule, and I feel so terrible about berating you yesterday. It would be a pleasure to buy you a coffee.” Mia swallowed, pressing her lips together.
“You know,” she said finally, “I—I think I’ll probably spend the time with my mom. I’ll have her pick me up at the shop. I’m sure she probably needs me to help her with errands anyway. But I appreciate the offer, and I’m so grateful you’re willing to pay for the repairs.”
“Well, if you change your mind, you have my number now,” Rami said, and Mia was taken aback at how confident he sounded, despite having just been turned down.
“I do, and I�
�m sure that if I do get bored, I’ll—I’ll call you. Thank you again, Rami, for taking care of this so quickly.”
“You aren’t in pain, are you? No sign of injuries? I can speak with a physician, if you think you need one.”
“No, no,” Mia said, feeling more than a little uncomfortable. “I’m fine, just a little bit sore. Nothing a hot bath won’t cure.” She took a breath. “Thank you again, but I really should call that mechanic to book in before they close for the day.”
“Of course, of course,” Rami replied. “I’ll leave you to it. Remember, if you change your mind…”
“I will remember! Have a good night, Rami—and thank you again.” Mia tapped the ‘end call’ icon on her screen before the man could press his suit any further. She set the phone down and sighed, shaking her head in amazement. Did he really just ask me out on a date? It had been so long since Mia had considered going on a date—so long, in fact, since anyone had asked her out on one—that the very possibility left her bemused.
The Sheikh's First Christmas - A Warm and Cozy Christmas Romance Page 13