Chapter 2
Rachel
“Screw my life!” I say as I gently bang my head against the steering wheel and watch my phone turn dark before my eyes. “Just perfect,” I say as I throw my phone onto the passenger seat.
Luckily, I managed to call a tow truck just before my phone died.
Apparently, they’re only ten minutes away.
I pray that’s true as I sit and watch the sun sink behind the trees.
The amber blinking of my hazard lights mirrors the orange sunset, but it casts an eerie glow.
In a few minutes, it’ll be dark and the perfect setting for a horror movie.
Just right for Jason to jump out, drag me from the car, and kill me in the woods with his machete.
Jade, one of my best friends, made me watch that movie—and oh my God, never again.
Horror movies are not my thing. I’m now permanently traumatized.
I look up into my rearview mirror as a set of headlights comes into view. I once again check to make sure all the doors are locked. The car slowly drives past and pulls up in front of me.
I instantly recognize the blue iconic truck that is as undeniable as him. Randy Harrison the god of NorCal College. Thankfully not a masked man about to kill me. His car door opens, and he jumps out of his truck and heads back to me as I open my car door and get out.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m just waiting for a tow truck, it’s on its way, apparently,” I say as I point in the direction, I assume it will come from.
I watch as he looks at my car, and back at me, giving me a sympathetic head nod.
He is gorgeous. I’ve seen him so many times around campus and up on the jumbotron at our home football games, but up close, he is even more flawless, and I can’t help but stare while he isn’t looking.
His best feature is that perfect ninety-degree jaw line, it’s square, chiseled cut, and so perfect I have to force myself to look away.
Strands of blonde hair occasionally fall over his brown eyes, and I can see how people think he should model for Calvin Klein.
“Engine problems?”
I shrug. “Umm, I think so.”
“Do you want to pop the hood, and I’ll take a look?”
“Sure,” I say, bending inside the driver’s door and pulling the lever.
Randy stands in front of my car and lifts the hood as a small billow of steam comes from the engine.
I watch him study the engine, then he bends down and inspects under my car.
“You have a bad gasket, by the looks, but the good news is that it hasn’t fully blown.
You also have some coolant leaking, so you definitely won’t be able to drive this. ”
“Great,” I mumble.
He closes the hood and dusts off his hands on his shorts, looking back to me. “I’m Randy, by the way.”
“I know who you are, Mr. Quarterback. I go to NorCal College too,” I say, kicking my tire with my heel and leaning back against my car.
I know who he is, everyone at the college knows who he is, so there is no point in acting like I don’t.
But of course, he doesn’t know me, or even realize that we currently have a class together.
We don’t run in the same crowds, and I don’t party.
I wish I could, but I have more important things to do than drink my weekends away—like being up early to make my son breakfast.
“Really? I’ve never seen you on campus before, and I recognize most ladies,” he says, tucking his hands into the front of his shorts.
It draws my attention to his arms and how defined they are. That simple movement makes me almost drool as his tanned, well-chiseled biceps flex. “If they turned around and you pulled their hair, would you recognize the rest?” As soon as the words are out, I recoil at them.
He raises his eyebrows at my words as he scans our surroundings. Then he removes a hand from his pocket and rubs the back of his neck, offering me a weak grin. “That’s funny. I’m so glad I pulled over to check on you.”
I sigh, biting the inside of my lip as I silently scold myself. “I’m sorry—I’m just… flustered, waiting for this stupid tow truck to arrive. Plus,” I add, my tone softening, “we do have a class together.”
Feeling a little hurt that he doesn’t even remotely recognize me, but genuinely bad for having just said what I did.
What and who he does isn’t my concern, and I shouldn’t judge him for living the life he wants.
Hell, maybe I’m jealous of that carefree lifestyle.
It’s not like he’s hurting anyone. Actually, scratch that, I’m sure that’s not true…
he’s probably broken way too many hearts.
He rests both hands back on my car as the sky grows darker, only a whisper of the sun peeking over the horizon. “Well, I might as well wait here with you. Can’t exactly leave you waiting by yourself in the dark…my mom would kill me if she found out.”
“Thank you,” I say, looking down at my feet as I gently kick at the gravel. Feeling extra guilty now with how nice he is being after my bratty comment.
“So, what’s your name?” he asks, glancing down at me.
“Oh—it’s Rachel Summers,” I say, extending my hand. He looks a little surprised by the handshake, my dad raised me right, after all, but he accepts my hand. His hand is warm and large, the kind of quarterback’s hands that might be worth millions someday… if they aren’t already.
“Nice to formally meet you. Do you have someone coming to get you once the tow truck takes your car?”
Crap. “Shit, no, I don’t,” I reply, biting on my lower lip. “Maybe the tow truck driver could drop me off somewhere. My phone died so I can’t call anyone.”
He stands and stretches as headlights glide down the road, the hem of his shirt lifting just enough to reveal a glimpse of his tanned, sculpted stomach. Good thing he was looking the other way because I’m pretty sure I just drooled. I snap my eyes away. “That’ll be the tow truck,” I say quickly.
“Looks like it,” he says, eyes still on the road. “I can take you home, if you want. I’d feel better doing that than leaving you to ride off with some random guy in a tow truck.”
I start to say it’s not necessary, but the thought of climbing into a truck with a complete stranger suddenly doesn’t sound like the smartest plan. At least I’ve heard of Randy, so between the two, he’s the safer bet.
He watches me as I think it over; as if sensing my thoughts, he adds, “I’m not gonna hurt you, Rachel.”
“I know,” I reply a little too quickly. “Thank you, that would be really helpful.” I do trust him. Hell, he made national headlines for saving his teammate’s girlfriend after she was kidnapped at gunpoint just a few days ago.
“Wow—she does smile! You should do that more often. It looks gorgeous on you.”
I raise an eyebrow and offer him a weak smile. Charismatic or what, Mr. Quarterback? And yet, despite myself, I totally just swooned. Damn him.
“Okay, I will be right back, better move my truck out of the way.”
I watch as he jogs over to his vehicle, shifting it to the opposite side of the road just as the tow truck pulls up. I open my door and start gathering my things, purse, phone, books, Sam’s car seat, trying to act like I’m not hyper-aware of him watching me as he approaches.
“Are you able to put this in your car, please,” I ask, holding the seat out to him.
“Sure,” he says without hesitation, taking it from me with easy confidence.
Once my car is safely loaded onto the back of the tow truck, I climb into Randy’s truck. It’s a dark blue Ford F-150, and luckily has a sidestep or I might’ve needed a second attempt to get in.
Right on cue, just as Randy starts the engine, my stomach growls loud enough to be unmistakable. He glances over and stifles a laugh.
I close my eyes, cheeks burning.
“Are you hungry?” he asks, still smiling.
Humiliated, I own it based on the attention my stomach just caused.
“Starving. I don’t think I’ve eaten since breakfast.” I think back to this morning, making bacon and eggs for Sam, his favorite, before smothering him in hugs and kisses and watching my parents drive away with him for the weekend to visit my grandparents.
I made the most of the day, tucked away in the library, knocking out pages of work while I didn’t have to chase after him.
Just one more assignment to hand in and I’m done.
Bring on the Christmas break. I was feeling pretty good about everything I'd managed…
until my cheap-ass car decided to die on me.
“I just visited my mom, had lunch a few hours ago, but I’m already hungry,” he says with a shrug. “I’m always hungry. There’s a diner just down the road. Want to stop there and grab something?” His hand lifts briefly from the steering wheel to point ahead.
“I’d appreciate that. I have no idea what’s even in my fridge right now.”
“Done.”
We drive for a few quiet minutes, and I take the time to glance around his truck. It’s big. Masculine. Randy’s fingers tap along the steering wheel in time with the music playing low from the radio. He’s gorgeous. Hot man, hot car.
I twist in my seat to check the back. It’s spotless, just a duffle bag and a football sitting next to Sam’s car seat and my clutter. Nothing like my car, which looks like a toy store and a laundry basket had a head-on collision.
“So, do you have a kid or a really young sibling?” Randy asks as he looks at me looking at the back seat.
“I have a son,” I say without hesitation.
I don’t hide the fact that I have a son to anyone, nor do I act ashamed because…
I’m not. He is by far the best thing in my life, and I couldn’t be prouder of him.
Getting pregnant at sixteen wasn't exactly what I'd planned, and it took a while to get over the initial shock.
But honestly, I wouldn't trade it for anything. Sam is my whole world.
“He must keep you busy,” he says, pulling into a parking spot near the front of the diner and cutting the engine.
“Yeah, it’s a juggling act some days with studying and being a single mom.”
The words are out before I can stop them. I cringe. Why did I say single?
“I bet,” he says with a smile as he grabs his wallet and phone out of the center console.
We both exit the car and enter the diner, a few people turning to look at the town’s golden boy. He must get looks all the time because he doesn’t seem to notice, or maybe he is just so used to it.
We are seated at a booth by the front window overlooking the parking lot, and we both order the same, a burger with fries and soda, and it’s not long before the food is delivered to our table.
“So, what do we have together?”
“I’m sorry?”
“What class. You said we had a class together,” he asks, devouring his burger before my eyes.
“Oh, oral communication.”
His phone that sits on the table vibrates with a message.
He nods. “Cool. So how old is your son?” he asks, still ignoring his phone.
My eyes do a sweep of the room, and I wonder if Randy actually knows how many people look his way.
“He’s four; his name is Sam.”
“You must’ve been young when you had him?”
“Yeah, I was seventeen when I had him,” I say between bites, wiping away sauce from the corner of my mouth.
“So, you’re twenty-one now?”
I nod my head, my mouth full and I’m unable to speak.
“Me too. So, you’re a junior, as well?” he asks as his phone vibrates again.
“No, sophomore. I missed a year of school.”
He nods his head in understanding.
I watch him take the last bite of his burger and finally check his phone. I can see that he has several text messages on his screen.
“Oh shit. I have to go!” he says as he crams the last of his fries into his mouth. “Come on, you can come with me. I’ll drive you home after,” he says, downing the last of his soda.
“What’s the rush?” I ask as I open my wallet.
“Grab your burger,” he says in response as he throws down some bills onto the table. “I got it.”
I quickly wrap my burger in a napkin as he stands, reaching for my hand.
He helps me out of the booth and keeps hold of my hand as we rush to the door, shouting thanks to the guys behind the counter.
We jog to the car, burger in hand. Once we’re back on the main road, I turn to him a little flustered and breathless. “So, what’s the rush?”
He looks at me with a look of anticipation. “It’s game night! The fifth game, the decider, and I need to beat her.”
I smile because I know exactly what he is talking about, the whole campus does. The postponed Call of Duty game. Put on hold after the abduction and shooting, it’s back on tonight, the finale, and well, let’s face it…there are high stakes involved.