Chapter 11 Juliana #2
She pressed her hands to her churning abdomen. “Yeah. But if you ever feed me gas station Indian food again, I will file for an annulment and burn your truck to the ground. It’s a thousand degrees in here.”
“It’s really not, Jules. Maybe we should get you home.”
“Well, you’re wrong,” she snapped, tugging at the neckline of her blouse like it might give her lungs more air or maybe teleport her out of this nightmare. “Your truck is a convection oven of despair. I think I need to lie down.”
“In here?”
“Preferably in a sterile medical facility, but sure. In here works too.”
Gideon looked mildly concerned now, which was almost as irritating as when he wasn’t concerned at all. “Was it the curry?
“Was it the level 4 spicy Indian food from a sketchy gas station, you mean?” she bit out. “Yes. Yes, I think it was.”
“You said you wanted to try something new.”
“I didn’t mean dysentery, Gideon!”
He reached for the shifter, but as he attempted to shift out of park, the truck engine sputtered and fell silent.
Juliana blinked. “Did you just turn the truck off?”
“No, it just died.”
He turned the key a couple times, only to hear the engine sputter in response.
“Why isn’t it starting?” she asked, her voice betraying the edge of her panic.
She reached for the door handle on reflex, pulling it toward her only to be met with no actual opening mechanism. Nothing. Just a loose wobble and an audible click of betrayal. Her stomach gave another ominous churn, and she sucked in a sharp breath through her nose.
“Let me out,” she snapped, fingers now scrabbling uselessly at the edge of the door like she might find a secret latch.
Gideon flinched. “You know the doors only open from the outside.”
She turned toward him slowly, eyes wide with outrage. “Let. Me. Out.”
He held up both hands, all fake calm and unhelpful Zen energy. “Just breathe, sweetheart.”
Juliana barked out a laugh—if a laugh had ever sounded like a death threat. “I’m going to breathe my way through my intestines—”
But she didn’t finish the sentence. Because her stomach made a noise that didn’t belong in a human body. It belonged in a Jurassic Park reboot. A deep, gurgling, prehistoric warning.
“Oh no,” she whispered, eyes wide. “Oh no.”
She lunged for the window button, jamming it like a woman possessed. Nothing. The truck stayed perfectly sealed, like a tomb.
“Why isn’t the window working?”
Gideon winced. “The battery’s dead.”
She blinked at him, horror dawning. “You killed the battery?”
He gave an awkward half-shrug, hands still on the wheel like it might protect him. “Well, I didn’t do it on purpose. Ethel is due for a new one. Guess she stopped recharging.”
Juliana slumped back in her seat, hand pressed to her forehead like she might faint—or commit murder. “Oh, wonderful. We’re locked in your metal death trap with no AC and no open windows.”
“It’s like seventy degrees outside,” Gideon said with infuriating calm. “And we’re parked in the shade. We’re not going to roast.”
She pulled out her phone and groaned when she saw the display read SOS instead of a reasonable number of bars.
“No service. Of course not.”
Gideon winced at her. “There’s always the rear window?”
Juliana stared at him in horror. “You mean the one that opens sideways and is like a foot wide?”
He shrugged. “Desperate times. I just know I won’t fit through there.”
Her stomach twisted again.
“I’m going out,” she announced.
“Okay, okay. Hang on. Just give me a second to think. Jules, I didn’t mean to trap you in here. You might get stuck,” he said, eyes wide with concern.
“I’ll take that over vomiting in your truck.” Or worse, she thought, realizing that she might not be able to predict from which end the Indian food was going to perform its grand finale.
“I’ll just break the window. Hold on, I’ve got a Maglite around here somewhere.”
Ignoring his protests, she began awkwardly maneuvering herself into the back seat, muttering every insult she could think of under her breath.
“This is why people use dating apps. No one accidentally marries someone with a truck like this on eHarmony. And this is exactly why I don’t go off-script. One minute it’s pineapple trucks and pretty vows, and the next I’m married to a man who doesn’t even have functioning door handles!”
“You’re doing great, sweetie,” he said, tone sweet and encouraging despite her attitude. It was like the jerk was enjoying her pain.
“Shut. Up.”
Wriggling like a disgruntled otter, Juliana finally made it to the tiny window and shoved her head and shoulders through, grunting as the frame caught at her hips.
“You better not be staring at my butt,” she warned, voice echoing behind her.
Gideon’s pause was far too long to be innocent. “Well, I am legally obligated to admire you now. Pretty sure it was in the vows. I solemnly promise to only check out my wife.”
“That was not in the vows,” she sassed, struggling to keep the smile covering her face from coloring her words. She should be mad at him right now for getting her into this ridiculous situation, not finding him charming.
“We should fix that for our next wedding,” he mused. And despite the fact that she was hanging halfway out the rear window of the truck trying not to hurl, she laughed.