Chapter 2
Carrie
Saturday 9.12am
My eyes are blurry and I’m in dire need of caffeine when I make it to the valley road leading up the mountain.
In a vain attempt to stop myself from thinking about Myles, or leaving Aleki in charge, I switch the radio on and listen to the weather channel instead.
My trepidation only grows as the announcer reminders listeners not to venture out unless an emergency.
Roads have been closed all the way from Minnesota, and I’ve been relying on my GPS to get me this far.
As I hold the steering wheel in a white-knuckle grip, barely able to see the road ahead, I now understand why flights have been grounded.
I pull over and try to look past the wipers going flat out trying to compete with the pounding rain.
I sigh and check my location using GPS and blink at the name on the screen. Frasier’s Gully.
“What the hell?” I mutter.
At some point I must have missed the exit.
Instead of turning onto the main highway, I’ve detoured into the most depressing town I’ve ever seen.
The gutters are overflowing onto the road. There are a couple of buildings, but they look as abandoned as the houses I passed on the way in.
Was I that distracted, I completely missed the turn-off? Either I’m more tired than I realized, or I’m more upset than I thought.
Maybe I should be relieved I am starting to feel the sharp sting of rejection now we’re officially over.
At least it proves I’m not as cold and uncaring as my mother.
With a curse, I put the car in reverse and squint through the rain to turn back around.
I can’t see any real appeal to living in a place this isolated. It’s obvious it was once something resembling a town, but now, it looks like an ideal spot to film a horror movie.
I smother a yawn as I head back the way I came, peering through the rain so I don’t miss the exit sign.
I shouldn’t have left so early.
But when I woke at 4am and couldn’t stop thinking about how Myles is starting over again, and I’m still as stressed out as I always am, there wasn’t any good reason to hang about.
Now the initial stupid Valentine’s Day crap is over; the restaurant can go back to normal.
But there is no normal.
There’s never a downtime. And normally I’d be okay with that. Busy is good. Busy means customers and customers mean I’m doing my job well enough that the manager might finally give me the raise he’s been promising all year.
But I’m sick of waiting. Sick of working until I’m dead on my feet.
Valentine’s Day is over. But then there’s Easter, and Mother’s Day, and Christmas, New Year.
While everyone is out celebrating, getting drunk and having fun, I’m working myself into an early grave trying to make sure everyone is happy.
But when do I get to be happy?
When do I get to sit in a restaurant and drink coffee, or eat cake and laugh?
I don’t even remember the last time I laughed. Really laughed.
I stand on the sidelines and watch families celebrate everything from engagements to births, to anniversaries.
I thought I was okay with putting everything on hold. And until Myles called me, I was.
But he’s moving on. And I’m treading water, not one step closer to my goal.
I frown at the stupid GPS, blaming it for getting me lost when really I should have been paying more attention.
My wheels skid and I suck in a breath as I reduce my speed.
I’m half-convinced I’m going in the wrong direction when I start to glide. I scream and clutch the wheel as I lose all control of the vehicle.
No longer traveling in a straight line, I’m sliding at an angle heading towards a large tree planted at the side of the road.
I grip the steering wheel, pumping the brakes listening to the wheels spinning on the surface water.
My brain seems to decide this is a good time to remind me of what I was thinking about earlier.
Myles is moving forward, but not me. I’m treading water. Only I’m not; I’m hydroplaning.
I’m damn well hydroplaning!
My seatbelt jerks against my shoulder, pushing me into my seat as I brace myself for impact.
With the GPS warning me of an impending collision, I squeeze my eyes shut as I smash into a tree with enough force to jar me and to make my airbag deploy.
Heart beating wildly, I take a shuddering breath and try to unbuckle my seat belt.
My hands are shaking so much it takes me a few attempts before the buckle unclicks.
I push the door open and step out, immediately wishing I’d thought to put a jacket on first.
Rain is pouring down so hard I can barely see, but I make it to the hood and see the steam rising from under it.
Instead of getting saturated, I climb back inside and pick up my cell ready to call…I stare at my phone.
My battery is dead. I tap it, tears starting to sting my eyes as I toss my phone on the seat.
I’m stuck here. Out in the middle of nowhere, all alone.
I run my hands through my soaking hair and try not to panic.
There has to be someone around here who has a phone.
***
Xavier
9.26am Saturday
When I finish my first workout of the day, something is going on with the power grid, making me think we could be in for a failure.
Since the rain started two days ago, I’ve noticed a dozen leaks, the worst of which is in the workshop and is currently dripping into a bucket I found.
I’m checking on the weather report to see if the rain is forecast to ease when noise from outside makes me spin on my heel.
Since I didn’t hear a vehicle pull up, I’m fairly certain it’s either Jack from the motel, or an animal looking for food.
I’m working with diesel, so the workshop door is always open, and it wouldn’t be the first time a Coyote or a Bobcat was prowling around the front.
I slide my toolbox open, ease out my Sig and go check. Fingers around the handle, I scan the front yard for any signs of unwelcome pests.
Instead of Jack, or an animal, an incredibly curvy, if not saturated blonde is lurking outside.
No. No. No. As if this is some cosmic joke, she’s carrying an overnight bag.
She’s tall with ample curves, dressed in tight jeans, high heeled boots, and a black sweater that’s clinging to her full breasts.
The rain is coming down heavy, making her look like something I conjured up in my fantasies.
I hastily hide the gun in my hand and step back so I can place it on the bench.
As I cover it with an oily rag, her eyes find mine and her eyebrows rise in surprise. “Oh, thank God. You’re just what I need right now. My car hit a tree and my phone is dead.”
Just what she needs? I highly doubt that.
When I don’t say anything and I’m staring way too long she gestures to the workshop. “You are a mechanic?”
Since I’m wearing overalls and standing directly under the garage sign, I nod. “I’m not really open for customers.”
She steps into my workshop and rubs a drip from the end of her nose. “But you could fix my car?”
I answer without thinking. “Probably.”
Shit. That is not the answer I’m supposed to be giving. If anyone asks, which they haven’t so far, I’m supposed to be saying I’m only working on Gerald’s current customers.
Before she can ask me anything else, I backpedal and gesture to the Fastback I’m working on. “But I’m a little busy.”
She peers at the solitary vehicle up on the hoist, and her tone turns wry. “Sure. You’re obviously rushed off your feet.”
I shift my weight and fold my arms across my chest. “I have a phone if you need to call someone? A tow truck? Insurance?”
Her brows knit together. “Thanks. Can a tow truck get through though?”
I scratch my chin and look over her shoulder at the water pouring from the sky. “Hard to say. It’s not an emergency.”
Her face blanches and I’m sure I see tears glistening in her eyes before she blinks rapidly. “Damn it. My sister is going to kill me.”
Technically this isn’t something I should be getting involved with. I literally just assured Julie that I’d stay under the radar and tell my brother to take a hike if he showed.
And maybe it’s the slight quiver to her lip or the way her hands are trembling, but I can’t even consider telling her to leave.
If she’s been in an accident, even a minor one, she could be in shock.
And if a tow truck can’t come and she can’t drive her car, her options are limited.
Above us, the lights flicker again reminding me there’s a chance I’ll lose power soon.
I’m considering how to proceed when she pushes her wet hair back from her face. “What about accommodation? I think I saw a motel back there. Maybe I can wait out the rain?”
The thought of her staying at the seedy motel with Jack, a sleazebag, and a million bed bugs doesn’t seem right either.
I must be out of my mind, and it’s breaking every rule under the sun but the words slip out before I can stop them. “You don’t want to stay there.”
Her head tilts to one side. “I don’t?”
Instead of opening up that can of worms, I change the subject. “How fast were you going?”
She chews on her lip as she formulates a reply. “I don’t know. Maybe twenty.”
I growl. “Were you wearing your seatbelt? Did the Airbag inflate?”
An irritated expression grows on her pretty face. “Yes to both. And I don't appreciate the tone. I’m not an idiot.”
I shrug. “You were driving way too fast for the conditions. You aren’t familiar with the area and you’re obviously lost. And now I have no choice but to help you.”
She narrows her eyes and mutters under her breath as she places her overnight bag down. “This weekend just keeps getting better and better.”
Rather than inquire about why her weekend has been shit, I grab my keys.
“I can tow you back here and take a look at the damage. But if your airbag needs replacing, it’ll take a few days to get here. But that won’t be your real problem.”
I open the door to my truck and jerk my thumb at the passenger side as I climb inside.
The engine turns over and I find myself staring into her sea-green eyes as she buckles her seatbelt.
Heat tracks over my skin as she lifts her chin as though issuing me a challenge. “And what is my real problem?”
I try to keep my voice light. “If the road is closed, it won’t matter if I can get your car running. You’ll be stuck here until it opens again.”
She looks as horrified as I feel right now.
Because if the road out of Frasier’s Gully is closed, there are only two places she can stay.
The motel or with me.
Given the thoughts I'm currently entertaining, I'm not sure which is the safer alternative.
***
Carrie
Aside from mentioning there may be a blackout which could be another issue, he’s quiet as we drive through waterlogged streets.
Instead of looking at the dreary grey outside the window, I glance at him and examine him a little closer.
He’s clutching the steering wheel, a serious expression I have no way of knowing is his usual or down to my presence.
If I weren’t so annoyed by his attitude, maybe I’d be appreciating just how well he’s filling out his plaid shirt.
He’s definitely good looking. Sort of rugged, kind of scruffy, and with a casual confidence that is way too appealing.
Maybe if he was open to making conversation, I wouldn’t feel quite so awkward.
He reminds me of an old boyfriend of mine. He was gorgeous. A hockey player, who Tina talked me into going out with.
But Joseph was sweet. And whoever this guy is, sweet is not a word I’d use to describe him.
Sexy. He’s incredibly sexy. But in a detached, don’t bother me sort of way.
When I find myself staring at his forearms, and my gaze is wandering over his body, I have to snap my eyes ahead.
Damn it. Either I’m lonelier than I realized, or I’m losing my moral compass.
Picturing him naked is not going to help me get out of here any faster. And he’s so obviously not interested in me like that.
I’m dying to ask him what he’s doing out here. He’s got an incredibly mixed accent like he’s traveled a great deal.
There’s nothing about him that makes me think he’s a predator if anything he seems in a hurry to get rid of me.
Which suits me just fine; Tina is going to be wondering where I am by now. The sooner I get my car fixed, the sooner I can leave.
I clear my throat. “Have you lived here long?”
He doesn’t even look at me; his gaze still fixed on the road ahead. “Not really.”
I frown hard at him but decide to ignore his frosty attitude. “Are blackouts common here?”
He glances at me and nods. “They don’t usually last long. Maybe a few hours. But with the flooding, it could take longer than normal to get the power back up again.”
I sit back in my seat and mentally cross my fingers that doesn’t happen. “If it goes out you won’t be able to fix my car?”
He frowns at me and looks at me like I’m a moron so I shut my mouth and stare out the windshield.
He is doing me a favor, and if he doesn’t want to talk, what do I care?
He pulls up at the front of my car and looks at me. “You can wait here.”
For the dumbest reason, I shake my head. “I want to look at the damage again. I was in a rush before.”
He shrugs like he doesn’t care either way and climbs out. With an exasperated sigh, I open my door and am relieved the rain seems to be coming to an end.
My legs feel a little wobbly as I follow him to my car. It’s possible I’m a little more out of sorts than I realized. But I’m not about to tell him I’m feeling a little lightheaded.
I cram my hands into my jean pockets, a shiver running down my spine as he slides in the driver's seat and tries the ignition.
When nothing happens, he gets out and stops at the dented grille and runs his hand along the front so the hood pops.
His eyes flick to me then the engine as a deeper frown grows on his face. “I need to get it up on the hoist.”
I wince. “It’s that bad?”
He looks across at me. “I don’t know yet. It might just be a tripped switch.”
When I open my mouth to ask what that means he pushes the hood back in place. “There’s an inertia switch that shuts off the fuel supply so the engine doesn’t start.”
I nod. “Can you fix the switch?”
He works his jaw as he nods. “I’ll need to check there’s no fuel leaking. But I can reset it. But like I said, I need to look properly.”
Without a word, he heads back to his truck and grabs something from the back.
He barely looks at me when he attaches the cable to the front of my car. “Put it in neutral. We’ll have to take it slow or it’ll damage the transmission.”
I do as he says, not bothering to even attempt to engage him in small talk. When I’m behind the wheel, I shift to neutral and watch him jump in his truck and maneuver his vehicle so he’s directly in front.
He connects the cable all with an efficiency that lets me know this is something he’s done multiple times before.
When he’s tugging on the cable, checking the connection it suddenly occurs to me we don’t even know each other’s names.
He shifts so he’s at my door, his hand on the roof as he looks inside at me. “Just sit tight and don’t try to steer.”
Before he can move away I take my chance. “Thanks for doing this. I’m Carrie by the way.”
I extend my hand and he stares at me before his rough fingers clasp mine. “Xavier Reid. I answer to either name.”
He releases my hand and stalks away looking decidedly cagey.
Whoever Xavier is, he’s hiding something.
Just as well I won’t be sticking around long enough to find out what that is.
