AllFreeNovel
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1-Sarah
I tap the small desert box resting in the passenger seat. Tiramisu and hot chocolate are the perfect vacation dinner. The only remaining decision is which novel to read next. Do I want a cowboy hero or a Regency pirate? It’s a trick question because a vacation means having time for both.
POP!
My car vibrates and pulls to the left. I jerk the steering wheel, hoping to drive a little further along. My cabin in the woods is two miles away. That short distance won’t destroy the rims, right?
The vibrations intensify. Resigned, I pull onto the shoulder, flick on the emergency lights, and exit the car to inspect any damage. All that remains of the right front tire are bits of rubber gingerly held together by threads.
If something breaks, there are usually two simple solutions. First, turn it off, wait 30 seconds, and then turn it on again. The second solution is a little more dramatic.
I kick the damned thing. “Take that, you stupid tire.” It doesn’t work.
This isn’t a problem. I’m a Rivers, born into a family of race car drivers. Boone is busy rebuilding an ugly, old Camaro. I spent many childhood hours watching Boone and Dad building carts. Pit crew members can change a tire in seconds. How difficult can this be?
Very difficult. The answer is very difficult.
I shiver and rub my arms through the cozy sweatshirt. Itwill be dark soon. At least it isn’t snowing. January in North Carolina is cold enough; a snowstorm will make it worse.
Despite all my efforts, half the lug nuts remain. I kick the shredded tire again. “Stupid tire.” The car wobbles on the jack, so maybe that isn’t the brightest idea. I kick it a third time. “You deserve it.”
There’s always a tow truck. Aren’t those available for emergency services? Bonus: I passed by an auto shop on the edge of town.
“Thank you, GPS,” I say aloud and dial the number.
Tiramisu, hot chocolate, and a cowboy will be with me soon.
“Thank you for callingSmith Auto Shop.We open tomorrow morning at…”
I screech and hang up.
That leaves two awful options. I can spend the night in my car while I hope for a rescue or walk. Not a single vehicle has passed by since the tire blew out. What does that say about a potential rescue? Plus, there are stories of people trapped in their cars when snowfall hits. Those never end well.
The road’s edge is a mix of gravel, dirt, and brown snow. My winter boots crunch with every step. The hazard light flashes, illuminating everything and casting me right back into darkness.
My determination shatters.
Walking suddenly feels like a very foolish idea. I could call Boone and Maddie, but they’re several hours away. Also, after listening to my big brother’s lectures over this trip, the idea of calling them for help is galling.
I regularly brag about my ability to solve problems. I also once believed I was always right. Recent events show that neither of those statements is true.
It’s dark outside, and I’m the only person in the world.
I lean against the trunk and blink at a white light in the distance. It grows brighter and comes to a stop a short distance away.
Is it my rescuer or worse?
Someone steps out of the vehicle; only the car beams blind me, so I can’t see them. Frantically, I dig into my purse.
“I have pepper spray. Step any closer, and you’ll wish you didn’t.” Is that enough of a threat? I can do worse. “Also, I know karate, and I’m armed.”
Does anyone else know the game, two truths and a lie?
I raise the can and prepare for my attack.
“Princess? Is that you?” asks a familiar voice.
My arm drops. “Jake?”
