Chapter 1
~Natalie~
I hope you have a wonderful birthday as well as mine, my love.
I moan and pull back against the guardrail to block the glaring sunlight from my eyes. In what way should I complete that?
that’s the girl that smells like road death and sweat right now?
About to lose everything paying for this disaster, girl?
Whose partner won’t pick up his stupid phone, girl?
I’m texting Caleb once more as my fingers scroll over the screen. Where are you?
I look at my phone, expecting a response, but before the answering beep sounds, the screen goes blank. Caleb had informed me that he wouldn’t be able to make it to our date tonight. He should have left by now, even though I understand that his internship at the local campaign office occasionally runs late when they are getting ready for a rally.
Once more, my fingers sweep across the screen. In your spare time, are you secretly Superman? You can tell me, come on. I’ll understand if you’re rescuing the world.
Naturally, there’s still been no reply. And now there are pins and needles in my neck from anxiousness as much as sweat. What if he was the victim of something? What if he was involved in a mishap? What if? I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and stop myself before the ideas spin out of control. Nat, calm down. However, that small workout simply gives me a whiff of the dead skunk that’s cooking on the side of the road a few yards away from me from the heat. Oh no. I resist a rush of sickness by covering my mouth with my fingers.
For what feels like the hundredth time, I glance at the time on my phone. I was told by the roadside assistance woman that they would immediately arrange for a tow truck from a nearby garage. However, no car has passed me in over an hour, and the ones that have either ignored me or spat insults at me. Naturally, my awful automobile broke down when I was getting ready for my birthday supper in heels and a low-cut dress. Congratulations on the timing.
I’ve seen how those horror movies finish, but at least one person appeared decent enough and volunteered to help. After accepting assistance from an ostensibly nice stranger, a roadside girl has her organs removed later that evening. Thank you, but no.
I look up as I hear tires grinding on gravel. A black tow truck drives by me on the road, kicking up dust in its path as it pulls to the side. I hurriedly check the mace can in my purse while holding my phone tightly, and then I push off the guardrail. The truck’s side is branded with Billy’s Custom Cycles and Auto Repair. An image of a burning motorcycle appears as a tattoo-style emblem. Furthermore, I’m positive it’s not the name of the repair shop that the roadside help service provided for me. It was a large chain, AutoPlus or something similar. I feel a tiny twinge of anxiety and halt right there, burying my heels in the gravel.
Before anything else, the tow truck’s front door opens and an arm covered in tattoos shows. My gaze seems to fixate on fragments of the man rather than the entire image, as if I’m not yet ready to take in the full scene. That strong arm when the truck driver gets out. The black motorcycle boots, worn and dropped on the floor. I make myself glance up, following the lines of the worn-out trousers and form-fitting black T-shirt until my eyes meet, dark blue.
It appears you require transportation.
I’m momentarily startled by the powerful voice, which then slams me back into the present. Ping! Nat, pay attention. I’m not going to drop my guard just yet. “Thank you, but I don’t, no. Another store is already on its way.
His eyes follow my dusty garment, as if they were languid and lethargic, and then he raises a dark eyebrow. What is the duration of your wait? This place is quite warm.
I feel a little self-conscious about the once over. I’m sure he’s not that much older than me—he must be in his early twenties at most—but there’s just something so terrifying about him. “I’m not sure. Not too long. They will undoubtedly arrive at any moment.
He looks at my car, which has decided to smoke from under the hood at this same moment—as if it detects aid in its midst and is calling out for it—while crossing his arms over his chest. “Which store is visiting?”
I try to give my trembling hands something to do while I brush at the hem of my garment. I don’t want to give off the impression that I’m afraid or anxious, or that this intense heat in Texas is melting me. “AutoMart, AutoPlus...”
He grimaces. “Autoland.” “That’s it.”
“There, you might as well pitch a tent. They charge twice as much as we would and take ages to respond to calls. They also close at six. “The guy who wants to make a quick money off of a girl who gets stuck on the side of the road says they’re just going to tow you in and then lock you up for the night.”
A corner of his mouth curves upward. “Hey princess, I’m just trying to be a nice guy and get you to your sorority party on time,” he says, giving me another sidelong glance. Either way, I get paid the same.
Princess? Party for sororities? I narrow my eyes and examine him from head to toe, noting his disheveled dark hair, tattoos, bulky boots, and exquisitely formed... Before I can go there, I take the thought back. “Look, Son of Anarchy, thanks for the offer, nice guy, but how can I even be sure you’re real?”
He snorts. “You think I have fun driving around in a tow truck? If you’d like, give the number on the side of the vehicle a call. I have better things to do than stand here in the heat and smell roadkill, though. Princess, you have two minutes. I’ll be inside the vehicle. Do you need a ride and a tow? You enter. If not, I wish you well using Autoland.
Even though he’s not really the company I desire, I become a little panicked when he turns to leave. The sun is setting, and this isn’t the greatest area of Austin. “Alright, tell me your name. You are aware, so I can confirm.
