Welcome back. This will be a short one, 4 chapters max.
This one goes out to my BBF Jana.
"Come on, come on..."
I pushed against the steering as I willed the vehicle to remain operational. The truck sputtered as I pressed hard on the accelerator, causing the engine to roar to life. It inched forward, the RPM gauge as unstable as my current state of emotions. I sighed and wiped the sweat that was dripping down my forehead. The truck hissed.
"Stay with me, you piece of shit," I growled menacingly at the inanimate vehicle. As if it were offended, the engine sputtered again and died completely.
Of course it did.
Just my fucking luck. This was the worst day. Ever.
I took in a deep breath and exhaled, pausing momentarily before I allowed myself to completely lose it.
"Goddamn pile of fucking shit!"
My blood boiled as my "I-told-you-so" reflex kicked into high gear recalling why I was driving this POS.
I'm sorry Ms. Swan, but we don't have any other vehicles.
I'm sorry Ms. Swan, but your car is going to take at least a week to repair.
I'm sorry that the truck isn't the best looking, but she's sturdy and reliable. She'll get you where you need to go.
Even when I protested, this was the best car that they could give me. A Ford something or other from 1950 that likely has to be hand cranked to run properly. I didn't have the money to rent something and I needed a way to get around...at the time.
I woke up late this morning and in a rush to get out the door, I spilled tea all over myself and the packets for my boss' big presentation that I spent five hours the night before preparing. They were, in essence, completely ruined. After stubbing my toe as I was trying to salvage the packets, I ran to my car with the intention of hitting up the FedEx to help me with some quick copies. I turned the key and what do you know?
Car turns, but doesn't start.
After a tow truck was arranged to pick my car up and I got to work via a very expensive cab fare, I come to realize that the whole fucking department is called into a conference room to be told by some suit from corporate that our department is being eliminated. Effective immediately.
Like I said, worst day ever.
I got a ride to the car garage and waited for my car to be repaired, holding in my lap a box filled with a small potted plant and a company branded coffee mug. Six mother loving hours later, they tell me they need a week to fix it.
Presently, I was stuck on the highway, without air conditioning, in dense traffic and ninety degree weather. It was loud due to the sea of engines and one particularly loud motorcycle, I was tired and hungry. And I just lost it.
"Goddamn piece of crap! Fuck you! Fuck you, you no good twat waffle!"
Tears sprung to my eyes as I sighed in defeat, forcefully placing my forehead on the steering wheel in defeat.
"Miss?" A voice called out.
I grunted in response and made no attempt to move.
"Miss? Are you alright?" He called out again. I could tell by the tone of his voice that he was just trying to be helpful, but I would not let someone with a smooth as silk voice ruin my pity party of epic proportions.
Tipping my head back with my eyes closed, I yelled, "Does it look like I'm alright?" My head hit the headrest and I continued. "No. I'm not alright. Thanks for asking."
"You're a rather horrible liar," he replied with a mirthful tone. This mirthful tone might have been endearing or funny to anyone else, but I was feeling too defeated to care.
"Well, you're a rather annoying person. So why don't you please just leave me alone?" I sighed, exasperated.
"Bella, I'm not about to leave a damsel in distress. It would be ungentlemanly of me."
That voice...it oozed into my brain and decided to take over my senses. I wanted to hear it say sexy things, naughty things. The fact, however, that I was stranded on the side of the highway, that this stranger was trying to engage me in conversation and that he knew my name enabled my rational and self-preservation mode.
"Listen, Creeper McWeirdo..."My eyes cracked open and I tilted my head toward the stranger danger. "I don't know who you think you are, but..."
As I turned toward the driver side window, I finally took in the owner of the delicious voice. His eyes were covered by aviator sunglasses and his hair was wild and windblown. A fitted grey v-neck t-shirt covered his nicely toned body but did little to conceal the three-quarter sleeve tattoo that decorated his right arm. And oh Lord, he was the owner of the previously mentioned overly loud motorcycle.
Based on my initial assessment, he earned about ten-thousand sexy points on first impressions alone. Holy hell, this man was delectable. However, my blatant ogling was not long lived.
"You really don't remember me?" he smirked playfully, catching me undress him with my eyes. As I tried in vain to recall this fine specimen, he added, "And what the hell is a twat waffle?"
Stay tuned! Steaminess to come...I promise.