Besides, the truth was, Raina had no friends. No camaraderie. No reason for sticking around Deep Haven. Nothing but a car that apparently needed new tires.
“Not again!” She slammed her hand against the steering wheel as the car came to rest in the soggy swamp that had once been County Road 53.
The pizza box lay on the floor, having arrowed forward with her slam of the brakes.
The DOT might consider putting the “road washed out” flags before the curve.
Now her Impala lurched to the right as the wheel sank lower into the muck. She opened the door. Thankfully, her driver’s side still sat on semidry ground, and she got out, slopping to the center of the road.
Overhead, the sky hovered low and menacing, the late hour of the day hanging through the shadow-shrouded trees.
Raina pulled out her cell phone, held it up, praying for a signal. Nothing. Of course. She could say that about this entire stupid town. There was nothing here. No nightlife, no fun, no friends, no—
She leaned against the car, scrubbing a hand down her face. Okay, so the humiliation of Owen’s full-out run from her place over a week ago seemed to sour her outlook on everything. Why couldn’t she get his rejection—and her own stupidity—out of her head?
She stood, went around the front of the car, and stared at the mess. She’d simply driven off the hard pack of the dirt road, now smaller after the rain this week. She’d bet Seattle was a drier place than Deep Haven in June.
Maybe . . . Raina put the car in neutral and went around to the front again. Threw her weight against the hood.
Nothing.
She couldn’t push and gun it at the same time. Folding her arms, she tucked her head into them on the hood.
The trees shivered off rain, and the silence, the stillness of the forest, wheedled through her.
She lifted her head. Stared into the woods on one side, then the other. She might be one, even two, miles from the highway, back in the hills.
And not a house in sight. In fact . . . She got in the car and pulled up the GPS. It showed her destination as off the main road—this muddy “main road.”
Who knew where 1290 County Road 53 might truly be located?
Hadn’t she read a story about wolves attacking a woman in her yard in a recent edition of the Deep Haven Herald?
Just in case she’d loosened it, she put the car in reverse. Stepped on the gas. Slowly, and then as the tires kicked up mud, she floored it.
Mud splattered into the air, landing on the windshield, the side windows, as she dug in deeper.
Raina let off the gas, smelled the engine burning. Nice. Maybe she should simply leave the thing and start hiking back to the road. She still had an hour of daylight, right?
She glanced at the pizza, then dove for it, pulling it up on the seat. The smell of pepperoni had tormented her all the way from town. The red padded covering radiated heat. She opened the Velcro, found the pizza still hot. She pulled it out and set it on top of the insulated envelope. Then slowly pried open the box.
A layer of gooey cheese dripped from the lid where it had glued in place as it hurtled from the front seat. Only red sauce, pepperoni, mushrooms, and onions remained in the sauce on the crust.
At least it didn’t have olives. She hated them, and if she was going to have to survive on this lonely pizza until help arrived, she didn’t want to have to choke down olives.
She scraped cheese off the box with her fingers, then dropped it onto a slice. Considered her actions. She worked the piece free. Maybe she needed a little nourishment now, to help her figure out what to do next. Maneuvering the piece into her mouth, she took a bite. Not too bad, even with the cardboard-flavored cheese.
As she moved to take another bite, a buzzing behind her made her nearly drop the piece. She turned, flicking the automatic locks. Like, what, it might be Bigfoot approaching?
No, worse.
She recognized him on that black motorcycle, in a black helmet, motoring toward her like he’d forgotten something. Maybe one last flicker of her pride to stomp out.
Raina determined to ignore him. Even if—shoot. She could be here forever if she didn’t—
He slowed as he drove past her, and then, of course, he stopped. Because he just couldn’t help himself. A damsel in distress, another woman whose heart he might take captive.
She just wouldn’t look at him. She pulled her Pierre’s Pizza visor down, stared straight ahead. Maybe he wouldn’t realize it was her. . . .
He knocked on the window. “Are you okay in there?”
Through the glass, she recognized his voice. “Yep.”
“Are you sure you don’t need a hand? You look pretty stuck—”
“Oh, for pete’s sake, I know, okay? Go away, Owen!” Raina looked up then and stilled.