Chapter 3
Eli
A gust snagged her hair out of her braid. It whipped her face, making her look exotic, like she should be on a beach somewhere. A photo, ’cause she wasn’t moving. Or breathing. When I tapped her shoulder, an angry, feral scream rushed outta her.
“FUNNEL CAKE!”
Most people liked funnel cake. Apparently not this woman.
“Ha! Classic.” Behind us, the cashier from the Circle K loitered on the sidewalk, phone out, catching the whole thing.
“Excuse me a sec,” I said, but I doubt she heard me. I walked in front of the cashier’s camera and waited till his eyes flicked up to me.
“Oh, hey. You forget something?” he asked.
“Yeah.” I tipped my head to the convenience store.
The tone twanged as he went in ahead of me. With his eyes glued to his screen, the teen walked right into the counter. Puberty had no mercy–he had zits all over his face and neck. But that didn’t give him permission to blast the misery of others.
I grabbed a bag of mini Reese’s cups from the rack next to the register and tossed it on the counter.
The kid snagged it, scanned it, said, “Three forty-nine,” all while still on his phone.
I tapped my card on the reader. “Hey, you get that scene out there on video?”
“Only the end. Super lame. I missed the whole kid/car thing.”
“Can I see?” I held out my hand.
He didn’t even pause, just gave me his cracked Samsung.
Kids. “You know what’s lame?” I asked, watching the first few seconds, then deleting the video. From the trash, too. “Posting people’s private lives on social media.” I handed it back.
Casey, according to his name tag, stared at his photo grid. “What the hell, man?”
I tore into my Reese’s. “Have a good night.”
“Hey! You can’t–”
The tone twanged again as I shoved the glass door open and left.
Back outside, in the top-ten-reasons-never-to-live-here heat, I panicked at the empty lot. But then I saw the stranded pair on the sidewalk. The mom chewed up the concrete in long, swaying strides. She reminded me of a cheetah in heels.
My feet stopped by my leaking case of beer. Like the cars at the intersection, tonight’s plan hovered in a kind of in-between, waiting for the green go-ahead. I toed the soggy box. Judging by the spill, only one or two casualties.
I could go back to my dad’s, eat my Reese’s, have a beer, and go to bed. Check off one more day in this hellhole. If anyone asked, I had 48 days left. Less if I could find Dad a ranch manager. What a job that was turning out to be.
That’s all to say, I had nothing to offer a pretty woman stranded in a strip mall. Nothing but a ride and chocolate peanut butter cups. But the orange sky behind her had this glow-y effect that you get at the end of cheesy movies. I wondered what other swear words I could learn from her.
The candy bag crinkled in my grip. I cut a glance at my truck.
Oh, what the hell. Worth an ask, at least.
The light turned green, engines revved, and I left the beer on the sidewalk, headed straight to the rescue. Or trouble. Or both. “Hey, you good? Can I give you a ride somewhere?”
The woman spun and hit me with the most intense brown eyes I’d ever seen–quenching like Coca-Cola. An oasis right there on McDowell Road. Damn. If I were a moth, pretty sure I would’ve combusted, and not only because her stare tried to burn me alive.
“Absolutely not!” she said. “I don’t need some hunk playing hero!”
I took a step back, hands up.
She stopped short. Her shoulders dropped a good inch. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean–I’m not mad at you. You’ve been very kind. Thank you. For the offer, but …” She blew out a breath.
My lip twitched. Black skirt, shiny white shirt, fancy heels–she probably came straight from the office. What’s that rule? The hotter they were, the crazier? A wiser man would’ve backed away. She watched me shift the bill of my hat lower.
Dad always said I was reckless.
I shot out my hand. “I’m Eli. Eli Anderson.” Then, like an idiot, I tugged it back, determined not to be my old man. Plus, her arms were full. “I’m not trying to be a hero or anything.” Wow, smooth. “Just offering you a ride.”
She didn’t have her purse. She didn’t have anything. In comparison, my day didn’t seem so bad. Maybe my misery wanted a drinking buddy.
Her eyebrows lifted. “You’re joking?”
“About?”
“Eli Anderson? That sounds like something from an old western.”
“You don’t believe me?” I pulled out my wallet, ID up.
She shifted the kid to take it. “Elijah T. Anderson. Where’s your mighty steed?”
I cracked a smile. “It’s more of a turbocharged V8.”
With a nod, she scanned the parking lot again. I got it–she had a kid. I might be a creep. But she was the one holding my ID and all my money. My eyes got stuck where her top teeth dug into her bottom lip.
She handed back my wallet.
“Thanks.” I itched the back of my neck. God, this heat. Even with the sun going down. Why did people choose to live here? Her skin shone with sweat, too. And with a kid clinging to her like that? How could I help them?
I glanced at my Ford F-150, but it didn’t have any answers. It felt wrong to leave them. Mom would’ve called it divine intervention, insisted I’d stopped at that Circle K for a reason. Looking at the woman, her kid, I kinda wanted there to be.
In a world full of shitty people, how could I convince her I wasn’t one of them?
“If it were my sister stranded,” I said, “I’d want someone to help her out.
Someone who wasn’t a creep.” Though Hannah would just kick their ass if they tried anything funny.
Hell, she’d kick my ass for trying to help her.
The woman in front of me stood taller, eyes sharp as a hawk.
Maybe an ass kicking wasn’t off the table.
I mean, those heels could do a lot of damage in the wrong places.
“I don’t have any cash,” I told her, “or I’d give you money for a ride share.” Still nothing. I held out my candy bag. “How ‘bout a Reese’s Miss …?” I drew out the end, hoping she’d feed me her name. The other guy had said it, but I’d been a little keyed up.
After a long pause, she finally gave in. “Ava.”
“How about a Reese’s, Ava? Peanut butter cups are perfect for crummy days.”
The kid twisted her hungry eyes to the candy. No more tears. What a relief. I was afraid I’d been too slow. Or too rough scooping her up.
“Can she have one?” I asked.
Ava stared at the bag. “Fine. Why not? Just one, Nina.”
My phone dinged in my pocket, but I ignored it. I watched Nina’s little fingers pick a candy. “How about you?” I angled the bag at Ava.
She sighed–hopefully the giving-in kind, and not the annoyed kind. That’s when I saw goosebumps covering her arm, even though it had to be a hundred degrees. Her eyes drifted down the road again.
“Forget that punk,” I wanted to say. Instead came the words, “You wanna go find him?”
“No. I might do something I regret.”
“Like what?” Kiss and make up? I’d seen too many women let their men walk all over them.
“Like punch him in the spot where his integrity is supposed to be.”
I smoothed a hand over my mouth. She probably wouldn’t appreciate me laughing.
“What the heck?” she finally muttered. “This day can’t get any worse.” The orange bag crinkled as she stuck her hand in and took a chocolate.
While she chewed, her smoky brown eyes dipped to my T-shirt and jeans. I probably smelled like a barn, all coated in dust and horsehair, but she wasn’t that close, so maybe she wouldn’t notice?
“Do you work with horses?”
I took a step back. “Yeah. For now.”
Horses … horsepower–I’d pick machines over livestock any day, but life didn’t care what I wanted.
She nodded in slow motion. Then her eyes dropped to my pocket, where someone was blowing up my phone. “Don’t let us keep you.”
I blew out a breath.
Don’t be Dad.
“Sorry, let me check …” I found twelve messages from my buddy Ryan, the last one all in caps.
Ryan: SCREW YOUR OLD MAN! THIS IS BIG $$$
More gigs.
The guy always had jobs lined up. I read the latest bid and almost choked. Tempting. Too bad my ass had to stay in hotter-than-hell Phoenix. I shot off a reply.
Another text came as I shoved my phone back in my pocket. I didn’t need to see what I was missing. Doing the right thing felt hard enough.
Ava’s voice pulled me out of my brood. “Um, can I borrow your phone?”
“Yeah, of course.” I practically threw the thing at her.
Real smooth, Eli.
“Thanks.” She stared at the screen for half a second, then shoved it back at me. “Oh, um, maybe you-do you want to …”
Ryan: Come on! Aren’t you tired of jerking off?
“No.” I handed it back, fighting the urge to assure her I didn’t do that … Not all the time.
“N-no?”
Frigging Ryan. “I mean, no, I’m not answering that. Make your call.”
She readjusted the kid on her hip and got really interested in her feet as she put my phone to her ear. “What’s it called?”
I didn’t realize she was talking to me till her eyes tipped up. “What?”
“The ranch, where you work?”
I frowned. “It doesn’t really have a name. It’s a boarding ranch.”
She shifted. Glanced around the lot again. “How many horses are there?”
“Four.”
“Four? That’s not a lot.” She looked relieved as she ended the call and handed the phone back to me. “No one’s answering.”
“You got family nearby or something? Somewhere I can drop you?”
“I just called them, but ...” She groaned, running her hand over her hair and gripping her braid like a lifeline. “I don’t know what to do.”
“Mama?”
Ava petted the kid's head. “Yes, Crackerjack?”
“I wanna go home.”