Thumbelina's Virtue

by Geri Glenn

  Table of Contents

  Thumbelina’s Virtue

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Astor

  Cory

  Other books by Geri Glenn

  Acknowledgments

  About The Author

  Table of Contents

  Thumbelina’s Virtue

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Astor

  Astor

  Astor

  Astor

  Cory

  Astor

  Astor

  Astor

  Cory

  Astor

  Cory

  Astor

  Cory

  Astor

  Astor

  Cory

  Astor

  Astor

  Cory

  Astor

  Cory

  Astor

  Cory

  Cory

  Astor

  Other books by Geri Glenn

  Acknowledgments

  About The Author

  Thumbelina’s

  Virtue

  By Geri Glenn

  © 2017 Geri Glenn

  All right reserved.

  Thumbelina’s Virtue is a work of fiction. All names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events are purely coincidental.

  This book, or any portion thereof, may not be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Edited by Rebel Edit & Design

  Formatted by Shanoff Designs

  Cover Designed by Cover Crush Designs

  To everyone that has ever under-estimated me.

  This one’s for you.

  Astor

  “Cheese and rice! No! No, no, no, no, no!” I stare through the windshield at the fog-like steam billowing out from beneath the hood of my old Toyota Echo. The country road is deserted at this time of night, and all I see around me is total darkness. I ease the car over to the shoulder and turn on the hazard lights, my stomach sinking with dread.

  This. This is why I’ve been begging my mother to allow me to have a cell phone. Of course, she’d said no, but why did I listen? I’m an eighteen-year-old woman who drives in the city—or, in tonight’s case, far from the city. I should have a darn cell phone. I’ve told my mother so a million times, but she has a thing against technology and the evil it brings to young minds.

  The car comes to a stop as the engine goes dead. The only illumination around me comes from my blinking hazard lights and the bright orange ‘check engine’ light that might as well be laughing at me. “Crap.”

  I check my watch and note that it’s already after midnight, which means it’s officially my birthday. I wasn’t supposed to be out this late, but I’d been babysitting for the Carlito’s, whose dinner party ran longer than expected. Now I’m here, stuck in the dark with a dead car and no way to call for help. Mother is going to lose her mind.

  I drop my head forward and rest it on the steering wheel, trying to come up with a solution to my problem. But there isn’t one. I can’t walk anywhere for help because there’s nowhere to walk to. The nearest house is way too far to walk in the dark to, and I’ll just end up lost. Besides, Lord only knows what kind of creatures are living out here in these woods that would consider a small woman like me a delightful midnight snack.

  The steam continues to billow out from under the hood, rising into the darkness. This is going to cost me a fortune. I reach down and pull the lever, popping the hood. As the gap widens and the fog thickens, I start to worry that it’s not steam, but smoke.

  My eyes dart around the dark road as I step outside of the vehicle and walk around to the front. Everything is eerily quiet, except for the sounds coming from the hot car and the pinging of the slowly cooling metal. I touch the hood with my fingertips and recoil as the hot steel burns my flesh.

  The sound of a branch breaking in the woods to my left echoes through the night, sending my imagination running wild. It could be a bear, or a wolf…or a sasquatch. Or maybe a serial killer. Taking a step back, I scurry to the driver’s side door and close myself inside, hitting the locks. Forget the hood. If I can’t figure something else out, I’ll take a look in the morning.

  It feels like hours pass as I sit in the dark, quiet car, my ears straining to hear any sound at all from outside. But when I check my watch again, only twenty minutes have passed; only seven more hours until the sun comes up. The only problem with that is, I think I might go crazy if I have to sit here for that long.

  The sound of an owl screeching somewhere deep in the woods makes my hair stand on end. “Oh, God, please get me out of here,” I pray, clasping my hands together and bowing my head.

  Not one single car passes over the next hour and a half. I hear the blood rushing through my ears as I scan the treeline outside, jumping at each and every little sound I hear. I’ve never been one to shy away from the outdoors, but I’ve also never been stranded in the woods in the middle of the night either.

  When the sound of a motorcycle approaching pulls me from my sentry duty, I watch its headlight grow larger in the rearview mirror. I consider getting out and waving down the driver, but quickly shove that idea aside. Lord only knows who’s driving that machine, and even though I’m desperate to get out of here, being abducted by a psycho biker would be even worse.

  Shaking, I press my face against the glass and watch as the motorcycle whizzes past my car. I can vaguely make out the shape of the rider in the darkness, but they’ve passed and are over the hill before I see much. I hold my breath as I wait for the sound of the engine to disappear into the night, but it never does. It gets quieter for a moment before I hear it getting louder.

  A lone headlight appears in front of me, popping up over the hill. I can’t breathe as the motorcycle draws closer, pulling up right in front of my car. The light blinds me, but I force myself to stay alert, desperately trying to think of a way to hide inside my tiny car. I watch in horror as the rider’s feet land on the ground, and the light dies along with the roar of the engine, leaving my vision splotchy with phantom blobs of color.

  I hear his heavy boots hitting the pavement as he approaches, but my eyesight is still struggling to recover itself. I blink rapidly, cursing my sudden blindness when there’s a knock on my window.

  My head whips to the side, and there, just on the other side of the glass is the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen. Shaggy blond hair falls into his eyes as he kneels down.

  “Hey. You okay?” I blink back at him, my voice frozen in fear and awe. “Do you need help?” he asks when I don’t answer him.

  My head is nodding before I can get out any words. All I can do is stare at him. He doesn’t look like a psycho, serial-killing biker. He looks…delicious. A delicious biker, complete in a leather vest and skin-tight jeans. My cheeks heat at the direction of where my own thoughts are heading. He’s offering to help you, Astor, not take your virginity.

  “Car trouble?” he prompts gently, his voice soft, as if speaking to a wild, cornered animal.

  I nod again. Come on, Astor. Speak.

  “Maybe I can help,” he offers through the closed window. “What seems to be the problem?”

  My mouth opens to answer, but all that I manage to get out is, “Smoke.”

  His eyes drift to the hood of the car, then back to me. “Okay,” he says, standing slowly. “I’m going to check it out, okay?”

  I stare into his intense eyes through the glass and nod. I don’t really know what the heck I just agreed to. A
ll I can think about are his eyes, and what color they would be if it wasn’t so dark outside.

  From my spot in the driver’s seat, I watch as he rounds the front of the car and disappears behind the hood, opening it before propping it up with the little arm thing. I watch through the crack underneath as a light shines onto the engine—likely from his cell phone—and his hand fiddles with a few things just out of view.

  “Can you start it up?” he calls out.

  I turn the key, suddenly wondering if I’m a complete fool, thinking I should have just done this in the first place, but nothing happens. The engine whirs and clanks, but doesn’t turn over.

  The hood drops and I watch as he rounds the car once more, squatting down beside my door. “Looks like your radiator’s gone,” he says through the glass. “You’re gonna need to get a tow.”

  Lovely. A fantastic birthday present. There goes what little money I’d made babysitting tonight, along with a good chunk of my savings to get it fixed.

  The man watches me through the window as I process the information. “It’s pretty late,” he says. “Too late to be sitting out here for hours waiting on a tow truck.”

  I gape at him for a second before gathering my courage. “I’ll be fine,” I huff. “I’m a big girl.”

  The man gives me a handsome smirk. “Well, I’ve only seen you through this window, but I don’t think that’s true.”

  My mouth drops open in surprise. How rude! But he’s right. I’m not very big. I’m not even five feet tall, and I still have to shop in the children’s section for most of my clothes, but he doesn’t need to point that out, does he? “I’ll be fine,” I say again.

  His shoulders rise and fall in a noncommittal shrug. “All right. I’ll leave you to it then.” He stands and flicks his hand out in a wave that is surprisingly sexy. “Good luck, little Thumbelina.”

  If it were physically possible for smoke to come out of a person’s ears, it would be streaming out of mine in angry, volcano-like plumes. I may be a tiny person, but I don’t like being teased about it—especially from a complete stranger.

  I glare at him as he strolls back to his motorcycle. Pulling his helmet down onto his head and swinging a leg over his bike, I remember one crucial detail. Frantic, I fumble with the door handle and manage to get the door open, stumbling out onto the road.

  “Wait!” I cry out, just as his motorcycle roars to life. He’s looking down and doesn’t hear me. Practically tripping over my own feet, I break out into a run as I see him rock the huge machine off of its stand. “Please! Wait!” The last word comes out in a desperate shriek, and this time, he hears me.

  His head lifts in my direction and his body goes tight as I get closer. With a gloved hand, he tips up the visor on his helmet, and I see the shine of his eyes through the darkness.

  “Phone,” I gasp as I come to a stop beside him. “I don’t have a phone.”

  His brow furrows and he reaches down, shutting off the engine and plunging us into silence. “Come again?”

  “I need to borrow your phone,” I say, my hand to my chest as my racing heart slows. “I don’t have one.”

  “You got a death wish, woman?” he asks, the growl in his voice enough to match the one his motorcycle is no longer making.

  That makes me frown. “Pardon?”

  “A woman, alone at night, driving a country road, has no business not carrying a cell phone with her. Hell, a woman should have a cell phone with her anywhere at any time. That’s just common sense.”

  This guy is a piece of work. I roll my eyes and ask again, “Can I borrow your phone?”

  He digs his phone out of his pocket and holds it up. “Depends.”

  “It depends?” Who the heck does this guy think he is?

  “Depends on who you’re going to call.”

  That’s when I pause. Who am I going to call? I can’t call Mother. She doesn’t have a car to come and get me, and it would just get her all riled up. I don’t know the number to any towing companies offhand, and I don’t have any friends who can come to my rescue.

  Cocky guy just nods his head. “That’s what I thought. How about this? I’ll call my buddy. He owns a garage, has a tow truck, and can send a man out to get your car. You ride with me and I’ll take you home so you don’t have to sit here in the dead of night, waiting. Sound good?”

  I want to say no. This guy hasn’t done much to make me want to spend any more time with him than I have to. But on the other hand, he also hasn’t done much to make me fear him. After that little speech about women and cell phones, I think that maybe, in his own way, he might even be a good guy. I don’t have any better options.

  Grudgingly, I nod my head. “Sounds good.”

  I make quick work of grabbing my purse and locking up my car, then hurry over to the waiting man. Right then, I realize that I don’t even know his name. I accept the helmet he offers me after removing it from his own head and say, “I don’t usually make it a habit to catch rides with complete strangers.”

  He grins down at me and fiddles with the strap at my chin. “My name’s Cory,” he murmurs. “Cory O’Neill.”

  I feel my face heat as I take in the dimples on his cheeks. “Astor,” I say quietly. “Astor Bloom.”

  His grin grows wider as he steps back to admire me in my fancy new headgear. “Well, Astor, it’s nice to meet you. Now that we’re no longer strangers, I figure you’re safe jumping on the back of my bike.”

  Astor

  I breathe a sigh of relief when I see there’s not a single light on in the house as Cory pulls the motorcycle into my driveway. He parks and turns off the engine, restoring silence to the quiet street. My mother and I live in a tiny suburban community, mostly made up of elderly people. Since it’s now two thirty in the morning, I was worried we’d wake up the entire neighborhood.

  I awkwardly slide off the seat, my hands clamping down on Cory’s shoulders for support so I don’t fall right onto my butt. Turning to face him, I make an attempt to undo the chin strap on the helmet. It’s not the right fit for me at all, and as I tug, it wobbles around on my head, almost covering my eyes.

  “Need a hand?” Cory asks with a smirk, taking in my struggle.

  I’m about to tell him no, just to wipe that amused look off his face, but I don’t. I’m too exhausted to be self-righteous at the moment. “Please,” I say quietly, giving up and dropping my arms to my sides.

  The smirk falls from his lips as he stares back at me, and something flashes in his eyes that I don’t understand. Cory’s tall form rises from the seat, and in an impressive move of agility, he’s off the motorcycle and standing in front of me. His hands come up and graze against my throat as he undoes the chin strap, his eyes locked on mine.

  A shiver runs through me as the strap falls away, hanging from the side of the helmet, but his hand stays at my chin. Like a whisper, his thumb comes out and slides across my skin, and then it’s gone. That simple touch leaves me breathless.

  “There’s a woman standing in the window,” he whispers, his face close to mine, but his eyes are locked on what he sees over my shoulder.

  My eyes fall closed as I imagine all the things my mother must be thinking, which means I won’t be sleeping tonight. “I gotta go,” I say, taking a step back. “Thank you, Cory. Really. I’d likely have been out there until tomorrow afternoon at the rate I was going.”

  He grins back at me. “I’m always up for rescuing a damsel in distress.” He lifts the helmet off my head and slips it onto his own. “I’ll be back at four to pick you up.”

  The porch light behind me flips on, the darkness around us disappearing. “Astor,” my mother calls, her voice angry.

  I ignore her, probably for the first time in my life, as my cheeks flame. “Pick me up?”

  He’s staring over my shoulder again as he says, “To get your car. My friend should have it done by then. I’ll take you to it.”

  “Oh,” I mumble, feeling a little silly. “That would be great,
but you don’t have to do that. I can take a taxi.”

  His finger comes up and taps me on the tip of my nose. “Four, Thumbelina. Be ready.” He’s on his bike and gone before I can argue any further, leaving me in the driveway under my mother’s angry glare.

  Astor

  “I forbid you to walk out that door, young lady.”

  It’s all I can do to keep from rolling my eyes at her. “Mother, please. I’m eighteen, and not a little girl anymore. You have to stop treating me like one!” This isn’t the first time we’ve had an argument like this, and every time, I make that same argument, and every time, I feel like a little girl stamping her foot and throwing a fit when I say those words.

  “You don’t even know this man, Astor. And he rides a motorcycle.” She whispers the last word as if it’s forbidden, a strange combination of dread and disgust taking over her face.

  I hear Cory’s boots on the wooden front steps as they approach the door. “Mother,” I whisper through my teeth. “Enough. He’s taking me to get my car. That’s it. That’s all. Now please, step aside.”

  I’m shocked when she listens and steps aside, though making it clear she doesn’t like this one single bit. I don’t give her a chance to relay that fact, though. When I open the door, Cory’s hand is poised over the doorbell, just about to push the button. I rush out, closing the door firmly behind me.

  “Well hello,” he says with a chuckle as I grab his arm and pull him down the front steps.

  I head right for his motorcycle and stop directly in front of it. “Hi,” I say, glancing behind us to be sure Mother is still inside the house and not on her way out to drag me back inside.

  Cory picks up the helmet and hands it to me. “Everything all right?”

  I sneak a peek back at my house and see Mother watching us through a gap in the curtains, but before I can make eye contact with her, she steps away from the window. “It is now,” I assure him with a smile that is much cheerier than I feel in this moment. I hate fighting with her, but I’m so tired of her obsessive, overprotective nature.