Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
Well that was ridiculous. And now this.
Gingersnap. Not now. Not ever, preferably. But definitely NOT now.
Grrrrr! I clench the steering wheel until my knuckles are white and my head hurts.
How is this my life? I don’t want anything complicated. Just the simple things.
Like having the plants on the farm grow well.
I’d like to go to bed at night without worrying about money.
I want to be able to walk around town without being overshadowed by the oppressive storm cloud known as my father.
But right now, I want my truck to run.
But no… I get this.
“Gingersnap, please. Today is not the day.”
Yes, I probably look unhinged—freaking out and talking to my truck.
I shove a hand into my hair, knocking my ponytail askew, and groan into the stifling air.
If it wouldn’t give my father such pleasure, I would retire my grandfather’s faithful Land Cruiser and get something more reliable. Even though it would break my heart to put Gingersnap to pasture.
But that’s not happening. Call me stubborn, but I’ll never let Marcus see my weakness.
I lean back and close my eyes, trying not to think about my shrinking bank account.
I’ll repair her again. It’s going to hurt. But it’s better than trying to buy something else. For multiple reasons.
My phone rings, making my teeth clench.
No. Definitely no . I wouldn’t take a call right now unless it was from a magic genie with a wand and a fat wallet.
But given the ringtone is one I hate—the ringtone I picked for the man my father has visions of me marrying—I know this is a triple-no moment.
Sylvester Stinkler… I mean Strickler.
Yuck.
A vision of his goofy blond hair in all its slicked back glory makes me stiffen. And as if that’s not bad enough, his chin-strap beard gives me a shudder.
The man is gross.
It’s even worse in person. Last night I could barely keep from retching.
He needs one of those style interventions. A makeover. But even if miracle workers could make him handsome, the yucky inside him leaking out would keep the gross-factor firmly in place.
Barf.
I cut the ringer off and fling the phone onto the passenger seat. It bounces and flies to the floor.
Great. I probably cracked the screen.
That would really mess my day up.
Not like I can just go around the corner to get another one. That will require a day-long trip to Carollia. I can’t take the Land Cruiser, which means I’ll have to borrow a car.
Heaviness hits my bones. There are many reasons I love living in Vandemora. Convenience is not one of them.
I growl again and shake the steering wheel as if I can scare off whatever demon is making Gingersnap smoke and sputter.
Maybe I should just catch the bus. Go to the airport and take a plane. I let a little fantasy play out in my head.
“Marianna.”
I jump so hard I slam my knee into the dash. “Ouch!”
I narrow my eyes and peer through the open window.
Him. Walt.
How tall is he anyway?
Regardless, the man is another problem I don’t need.
The good looking kind of problem that probably needs lots of attention to keep his ego inflated.
He steps back, holding up his sizable hands. “So sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you, again. Are you alright?”
His careful study of my face and concerned expression makes some of my anger leak out. But that doesn’t make this situation any better.
“No.” I sag back into the seat. “No. I’m not good. I’m having a terrible day. No, week. You’ve been witness to most of it.”
I shove open the door and he jumps back to avoid being hit in the gut. My shoe catches on the curb and I almost fall on my face.
A strong hand catches my upper arm. “Hey, easy.”
“Thanks, that would have been the icing on the cake,” I mutter. But my mind is spiraling. Why does he affect me so much? Heat flares from the place his hand is touching.
I lick my suddenly dry lips, and shiver.
Whenever he touches me I feel it all the way to my bones.
I tug my arm free and stomp to the front of the cruiser, where it takes me a minute of fumbling to pop the hood open.
Behind me I hear a low growl. “Let me help.”
My senses flaring, I go still as Walt, the handsome stranger, takes up the spot next to my elbow, invading my space with his body heat.
Holy Moly, I’m not sure if Gingersnap is smoking or if that’s me.
I groan as I fan smoke away from my face. “What is wrong with this thing?”
An echo whispers in my head. What is wrong with me?
He leans in and makes a rough sound. “You’ve got a coolant leak. You can tell by that sweet, burnt smell.”
I fan some more as dollar signs invade my head, pushing out his dizzying effect. Nothing like thinking about money to kill the buzz. “It stinks. But even worse than the smell is the fact that it’s broken and I really don’t have the time or money for this.”
On top of the tractor. Will things ever be easy?
I sigh out my frustration. Hanging my head, I grip the grill. Resting my hands on the weathered metal of the aging vehicle.
“Sorry, that’s not what you need right now, I’m sure.”
I startle when Walt rests his hand on mine.
For a beat, I’m frozen. I can’t tear my eyes away from his knuckles—the scars, but more the size of them. They’re really big. His hands are strong. Capable.
And hot. I remember how hot they were on my skin.
My pulse starts to pound.
He leans near me, making me freeze like a bunny with my ears perking and my nose twitching.
I’ve always liked big men, but he takes the cake. He dwarfed my father. Not that my father is a big man, but he thinks he is for all the wrong reasons. But Walt is built like a strong work horse.
I almost snort. Who compares hotties to workhorses? Clearly, I’ve spent too much time on the farm.
When I look up at him, there’s concern in his eyes, but it’s not for the coolant leak. I know this in my heart. My breath catches and my tummy flutters.
His voice has a deeper timbre than before. “Is he always like that with you?”
I’m captivated.
Something happens inside my body. My breath is definitely stuck somewhere below my pounding heart.
“He’s… difficult.”
The protective hero’s whole body grows bigger, vibrating with anger. “It’s no excuse. He shouldn’t ever treat you like that.”
His fierceness on my behalf shocks me again.
Teetering from the effect, I sound wobbly to my own ears. “No, my father shouldn’t treat me like that, but that’s something that will never change. Not as long as I live here.”
I know I’ve said too much, and should probably feel bad about that, but maybe it is time I admitted that to someone.
It helps that he’s practically a stranger who will disappear in a few days.
Walt releases my hand, a scary scowl on his face as he stares down at me.
I clench my fingers together and put them behind my back. They’re still tingling from his touch. “I should go. I’ll just walk.”
His head tilts. Those incredible eyes hold me prisoner. “Let me escort you.”
A sudden flush of fear crawls up my back. “No. It’s not a good idea. This is a small town. He’s going to know.”
A flash of anger darkens his gaze. He looks deadly. There’s always been something about him… but that edge is even more clear now that we’re outside in the clear light.
He licks his lower lip and his hard gaze sharpens even more. “Pardon my French, ma’am, but I don’t give a goddamn about what he knows or thinks he knows.”
A weird laugh sticks in my throat. This guy…
“You should give a damn. He’s going to make your visit to Karma uncomfortable at best.”
In a flash, an amused expression transforms Walt’s face. It’s almost a smirk, but not quite. A cup appears in his hand. He takes a drink, making his muscular throat work.
I shake my head, dragging my eyes away from that strong column of muscle. “A to-go cup. Did Peter kick you out?”
A slow grin spreads on his face, crinkling his eyes. Making the gray color even more striking.
“Pretty much.”
“He will be over it by this evening if you want to go in and eat dinner.”
With a pleased expression, he studies my face, glancing between my eyes. “Join me then?”
“I can’t.”
He nods once.
A twinge of guilt hits me, chased by sadness.
Before I realize what he’s doing, Walt lowers the hood on my vehicle, and snaps it shut. “Where are we going, now?”
We?
I glance around, butterflies and dread swirling in my stomach. I should run. But is it too wrong to steal a walk with a handsome stranger?
“I’m going to the fruit market next.”
“Didn’t know they make appointments at the fruit market.”
A flush of heat hits my cheeks. “Busted.”
“Morally gray, huh?”
Those words strike me. But there’s a ghosty, fleeting look in his granite eyes.
“Maybe a little. But it’s not like I’m hiding some big secret.”
He shifts from foot to foot, looking tense. When he peers down at me again, the color of his eyes is slate, cold and impenetrable. “I need to tell you something.”