“Shit damn fucking hell!” She fiddled with her cell again.
Fear froze her. Yes, her only option was to walk, but she was alone, a woman in the middle of nowhere. And in the past half hour since she’d found herself in this predicament, not a single car had passed.
“Why did I leave Phoenix?”
The answer to that sprung up, memories that singed and burned. Stephen had plied her with a romantic dinner and wine—wine that had been spiked with a roofie, according to the medical team she’d awakened to.
Thankfully, she couldn’t remember anything—not the fire or having her flesh seared, thank God. She’d awakened in the hospital to learn she had a nice new skin graft on her outer thigh and hip, and that Stephen had set the fire.
Everything in their apartment—including her—had almost been burned to ash. Luckily the other families in the building had smelled smoke and the rescue crews had…
Scrubbing her hands over her face helped to push the thoughts away. Dwelling on the past wouldn’t do much good. She needed a working vehicle. Or at least a few bars of cell service.
After trying to move the car a few more times, she gave up. An hour passed. Two. While she knew it was insane to sit here and hope for help to come, she was frozen. To make things worse, the sun was sinking.
The great orange orb was traveling down the sky too fast. In no time, she’d be sitting here in the dark. At least she had a cooler of bottled water and an energy bar. She could sleep in the car and set off walking tomorrow.
She shivered at the thought then steeled her spine. For months she’d been alone while she healed and got her head on straight. Spending the night alone in the middle of nowhere should be a breeze.
Folding her fingers together, she tried for calm when she really wanted to throw her head back and scream into the sky.
That might not be a bad idea. She got out of the car and gave it a try, but only a pathetic wail came out. She tried again, staring up at the beautiful dark blue nothingness, and let loose. The yell rose from the tips of her toes and sent the deer running.
Smug satisfaction swelled in her. She leaned against the car and drank in the scenery. Everything about this place stimulated her. Too bad she couldn’t be stimulated from a hotel window right now. Hell, she’d settle for a grungy motel.
Wait! GPS on my phone! She could find out her exact location and see how far walking would get her.
Wait. No cell service. She issued another bellow into the sky.
Then heard a noise. Straining, she made out an engine. Straightening away from her broken-down vehicle, she waited.
Each beat of her heart was a painful throb. What if this person wouldn’t help her? What if she took one look at the driver and hoped he’d speed past? God, this was turning into a bad screenplay. Lone woman, country road…
As the engine grew louder, she shifted her feet. When the red pickup came around the corner, her stomach sank but she stood her ground.
He rolled by, and she almost burst into tears. The old Charlotte would have gotten sassy, swearing at a person who refused to help someone in obvious distress. But after her trauma of the past months, she’d grown resigned. Her shoulders slumped.
The driver braked, and her heart did a two-step. She watched him back up and expertly whip his truck off the road. It wasn’t a new truck. In fact, it had seen the years Charlotte’s car had, and she doubted the vehicle could get her much farther.
The door opened, and a work boot hit the ground. She followed it up to worn jeans and the longest leg she’d ever seen. The man that leg belonged to was a real cowboy.
Nerves zinging, she let her gaze skitter over trim hips holding up those jeans and a wide belt and buckle sporting what looked like a steer. Top it with a denim shirt rolled over muscular forearms and she was looking at a movie star.
Did the Texas temps rise in the evenings, or was it her? Her clothes suddenly felt damp and restrictive.
The sun was behind him, but he wore a hat, shadowing his eyes. Stomach flip-flopping, she waited for him to speak.
“Howdy. You got car trouble?” His long strides ate up the ground between them in seconds. Using his knuckles, he rapped the brim of his hat, giving her a perfect look at his tanned face and piercing eyes.
Square jaw, full lips, a straight nose and high cheekbones that could have earned him a modeling career. However, he was far from polished like a model. His nails were grungy and his pants had a grease stain. But his hazel eyes glowed. Actually, they might be grayer now that she looked closer, but no, there were definitely green and amber flecks—
The corner of his mouth turned up, and she followed the crease around his eyes to the one bracketing his mouth. Her heart thumped double-time and awareness flooded her veins.