3. Gabe
CHAPTER 3
GABE
T he girl jumps when I knock on the window. Her eyes are red like she’s been trying not to cry, but she’s clearly cold and frightened. I can’t blame her. It’s a rough day to be caught out in this weather. How long has she been sitting here panicking?
She wipes her eyes and cracks open her door. “Hello?”
Her eyes are wide, her hands shaking. She shrinks away from me like I’m a monster, like I’m about to pounce. I don’t blame her for being nervous. After all, she can’t be more than five foot four, and I’m six foot even and not someone who could be described as lean. Plus, she has Pennsylvania plates. She’s clearly from out of town.
I know how this must look to her: strange man approaches woman in the dark.
But she needs help. I don’t exactly want to stop and deal with this, but I can’t leave her, either.
“I was driving by,” I say as mildly as I can. I’m not too used to speaking to normal people anymore, not beyond generic customer pleasantries. I don’t usually have to sweet-talk people onto my side. And it doesn’t help that I’m heading home after a long day of work. I was out doing a home visit on someone’s car, so I’m tired and not in the mood for more work.
“I’m a mechanic, see?”
Slowly, I dip my hand into my pocket to fish out my wallet so I can find my shop ID. It’s not very official-looking, and the mug shot isn’t flattering, but it comes in handy sometimes.
“I saw you in a snow drift there, and, well, you look like you could do with a little help.”
“Please,” she says tearfully. “Thank you.” She blinks up at me through her long eyelashes, her blue eyes shining, her blond hair falling in waves around her face. “I feel so stupid. I think I hit a pothole. Something made a really weird noise when I went off the road, and now my car won’t start, and I was worried I was going to freeze to death.”
“I won’t let that happen,” I say. I hook my fingers on the top of the door and pull it open more. The girl — the woman— tightens her grip for a second, then seems to decide that I’m not a threat and lets me in. “Let me see what I can do. You can sit in my truck if you want. It’s warm and dry in there.”
“Thank you so much.” She scrubs her eyes with the back of her hand and sits up as straight as she can, putting on a pretense of calm and collectedness.
She’s clearly one of those independent-woman types. I can admire that, but if she starts trying to act like she knows the first thing about cars when she doesn’t, she can’t be mad at me for setting her straight.
Looking pitiful, she gets out of the car and pulls her jacket around her shoulders. In the spotlight of my headlights, her eyes are a bright blue and the shadows on her face make her look like a dramatic model.
I look away from her face, trying not to distract myself. She drops her keys into my hand and trudges over to the truck to slump in the passenger seat.
Moving swiftly, I get into the driver’s seat and turn the key in the ignition. The starter doesn’t even click.
That’s bad news.
It doesn’t surprise me that she bashed up her car in one of the potholes down this road. They’re getting worse every day, and the local road authority is refusing to do anything about it. Maybe if enough accidents happen, they’ll have to. Either way, I wouldn’t be surprised if the underside of her car is a wreck.
But that shouldn’t mean no power. Maybe it’s a battery issue. I do have a toolbox in the truck, and a multimeter, but in this weather, I don’t really feel like popping the hood or inspecting the damage.
It would be easiest to bring her car back to the shop where I can look at it properly. But without my tow truck, I don’t think this thing’s going anywhere. I could hook it to the back of my truck; I’ve got all the stuff. But with the snow coming down like this and the dark setting in quickly, digging it out is going to be a nightmare. In this weather, it’s a job I can’t do without the tow truck.
I head back over to my truck, shake off my boots and slide into the driver’s seat.
She looks at me expectantly, and I shake my head. “I don’t think there’s a whole lot I can do out here. The car wouldn’t turn on, which means it probably has no power.”
“Yes, thank you,” she snaps. “I know that much.”
I bristle at her tone. I’m just trying to help her out here.
I set my face in a frown. “The thing is, in this weather, I can’t inspect it.”
“You can’t? What am I supposed to do?”
“Let me give you a ride into town,” I offer, surprising myself. Though really, what other option does she have? Walk? It’s only decent to drop her in town.
“Is there nothing else you can do?” she says, her shoulders drooping. What is this girl’s story? I bet she comes from a place where she’s used to getting everything she wants without question. She’s clearly not from a town like Mullen Falls.
“Not really. This storm’s rough, and it’s not letting up anytime soon. You’re best off waiting for the night and coming back to it in the morning.”
“I have an important meeting,” she snaps, her eyes blazing. “I have to make it to Grand Rapids tonight.”
“And I’m telling you, there’s no way, lady. Now, if you want to sit out here in the snow all night till I come to rescue you in the morning, go right ahead. But if you’re done being ornery, I’ll take you into town and we’ll get you settled for the night. All right?”
We lock eyes. For a second I think she’s going to argue with me, and no matter how frustrating I’m finding her, I’m not sure how long I can stand strong against her red, puffy eyes and her wobbling lips. I’m not used to fighting tiny, combative women.
But she gives in, deflating completely as she realizes she’s defeated. “Fine, okay,” she says and sighs. “I’ll come with you. But I want to leave town first thing in the morning.”
“Your wish is my command,” I say dryly.
She shoots me a dirty look and reaches out to the heat control, setting it to blast hot on us. I tolerate this for maybe a minute, then turn it down.
She reaches out again — the nerve of her! — and I say, “What are you doing?”
“I’m cold.”
“Don’t touch my truck. What’s wrong with you?”
“What’s wrong with you ?”
“Me?” I huff, bewildered. “I’m the one giving you a ride. I could have left you there.”
Again, she glares at me and turns to stare at the road, seething in silence as the flurry of snow mesmerizes us both. It’s only about ten minutes back to Mullen Falls from here, but I’m taking it slow because it’s dark and I don’t want to deal with another accident today.
Eventually, she decides to stop sulking, and she asks, “You’re a mechanic, right?”
“Right.”
“Best in town?”
“Only one in town.”
She hums thoughtfully, then asks, “So, you’re a small-town guy. Lived here your whole life?”
“Why do you care?” I bristle. “It’s none of your business.”
Her top lip curls, and with the most sourness I have ever heard in someone’s voice, she says, “Okay, whatever. I was just trying to be friendly. Guess I won’t, then.”
“Great. Don’t.”
By the time we pass the Welcome to Mullen Falls! sign, the atmosphere in the truck is icier than the storm outside. The sooner I get rid of this woman, the better.
I pull up on the main street and grind to a halt. “Mullen Falls. You’re welcome…”
“Carly,” she provides. “And thanks. Where can I get a bus?”
“A bus?” I laugh. “That’s the funniest joke I’ve heard in years.”
She folds her arms. With the face she’s making, she almost looks grumpier than me. “I’m not joking. I want to get a bus.”
“Well, good luck. Let me know if one shows up. But between you and me, you’ll be waiting forever. Mullen Falls isn’t on any bus route.”
With an indignant scoff, she opens the door and a blast of cold air blows into the truck. She marches away and doesn’t even look back. Still, I hesitate before I drive off, watching the lonely figure she cuts in the snowy night.