Chapter Three
Karissa
I paid for the motel in cash. As I had for everything so far on this flight.
Crumpled bills hidden in a hollowed-out book, saved at every opportunity from childhood on.
It hadn’t added up to much, but life had become unbearable enough that I had left, hoping to get far away before I had to stop and earn more.
Pleasant, the small town outside my motel window, was not nearly far enough.
I showered and put on a clean shirt and jeans, running a comb through my tangled long, red hair before facing what the day held.
The truck would have to be fixed if I was going to put more miles between the pack and my final location.
I hadn’t had one specifically set. Just a vague idea of as much distance as possible.
I’d never be able to mate, but past experience had taught me that attempts to do so were painful and emotionally wrenching.
Each one left me feeling violated and yet relieved that they hadn’t worked out.
Spending the rest of my life with any of these males would not have been good.
They were all cookie-cutter alphas: bossy and sure females were only there to serve them. In bed and out.
Until meeting the sheriff last night, I’d never encountered any alpha I’d have willingly spent more than a few minutes with. From the moment he showed up, he’d demonstrated a concern for the safety of those he served and even strangers like me. It made me feel warm and protected.
Not that it mattered. I’d never see him again. Get the truck fixed and get going.
Determined, I poured a cup of complimentary coffee in the motel lobby and marched down the road to the mechanic’s shop. Maybe it was just a hose? My brother said it cost around fifteen dollars at the parts store. Surely installing it wouldn’t be that much more.
When I entered through the wide, open garage door, I found the truck up in the air and Darryl the mechanic looking at the underside and shaking his head.
Joining him, I tilted my head back and stared into a lot of rusty metal and frayed wires, everything smeared with dark grease.
“This isn’t a fifteen-dollar job, is it? ” I asked.
The mechanic’s snort was far less than I deserved. His silence after it scared me.
“Okay. Bad joke. It’s something big, I take it?”
“I’d like to take the whole thing apart and rebuild it. Engine, suspension, everything. This model is a classic and to see it so poorly maintained makes me want to punch someone.”
I stepped back, waving my hands. “Don’t look at me. I never even drove it until the other day. It belonged to my pack.”
“They are probably too far away to punch. Anyway, I can do what is necessary to get it back on the road, but I’ll have to order parts.” He picked up a clipboard from a standing toolbox and passed it to me. “Here’s the damage.”
I read it, rubbed my eyes, and swallowed over the lump in my throat. “Oh.” There was no way I could come up with the figure. “Is there anything you can do to make it less? I mean, I am sure you’re fair, but I just…I…”
“Don’t have it.”
“I just don’t. Can any of it be skipped?”
“Not and keep you safely on the road. Your tires are bald, your radiator leaks, and well, it’s all listed there. I tried to keep it to only necessary repairs.”
“I’m sure you did, but I don’t know what to do.” My eyes welled with tears, and I blinked fast, trying to hold them back. “I’ll have to think about it.”
“Aww, don’t cry. I can’t stand female tears. I tell you what. I can go to the scrapyard and see what I can salvage. That will really cut back on the parts costs, and as to labor, I’ll keep it as low as possible. We’ll make it work.”
“You’re very kind,” I sniffled, embarrassed at this show of emotion.
“Just don’t be telling anyone that, or they’ll all be trying to get a deal out of me.”
“Not a word, I promise.” And I still didn’t know what I could do, but my growling stomach drew the man’s attention.
“You’d better head over to the diner and get something to eat. You look like you’re about to keel over, and I don’t need an unconscious female getting all greasy on my floor.”
“I’m fine.” I’d eaten breakfast the day before and had a few of those delicious cookies at the motel the night before. And coffee this morning.
“You go and eat something, or I will raise my price.”
“No, please. I’ll go now.” I couldn’t go without eating forever after all, so I hurried down the block to the storefront that housed the town diner.
Approaching, I breathed in the scents of bacon and pancakes and other breakfast delights.
Maybe toast and another coffee wouldn’t set me back too much.
Then, passing the front window, I saw a sign.
Help Wanted. Maybe I could earn the money I needed to pay for my car repairs?
Taking the sign, I carried it inside and waited for someone to notice me.
A few moments later, I was sitting at a table with a mile-high stack of pancakes and a side of sizzling sausage in front of me.
Juice and coffee. All “on the house” as part of my pay for my new job.
Even though I was only going to be here for a week or so, I’d been hired to wait tables.
All meals during my shifts included. Hope flickered inside me.