Page 17 of Small Town Hunter

He’s thirty. I think.

He’s tall as a tree and built like a running back. He’s wearing old jeans, a dirty gray T-shirt, a trucker cap with a fish on it and dirty boots.

His car smells amazing, but it’s so hot outside, the AC is barely doing something.

I want out of this dress.

My shaking hands cover my face and I take deep breaths to calm down. Getting nearly killed by a train and then run over by a stranger has me tripping. But the worst isn’t over yet. By now, everyone in Tippalonga will know what I’ve done. And it won’t be long before the train passes and they come looking for me.

Ask him. You have to ask him.

After what feels like forever, the man comes back with an oreo milkshake, fries, and a big cheeseburger dripping with all the bad things I shouldn’t eat.

“I thought I told you to waitoutsidethe vehicle,” he growls.

“I needed to sit down.”

“Well, here’s your food. You better eat every bite.” He passes me the grease-stained bag. “If you ask me, they overcharge for those fries.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. What’s your name?”

“Trina.”

“I’m Crash,” he says.

“Crash? Really?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. That’s a funny name.”

“Yeah, tell me about it.”

I realized somewhere in our exchange that he’s a really attractive man.

Almost sinfully good looking.

Tall, with dark hair and olive skin.

“I am very sorry for hitting you,” he says, staring at me right back.

“It’s okay. God meant for this to happen.”

“Uh…right.”

I unwrap the cheeseburger and take a huge bite.

Oh my God.

I stop eating like a wild animal when I notice he’s watching me. Slowly, he hands me the milkshake.

“So…”

I dab my mouth with the crushed napkin instead of the wedding dress. “Yes.”

“Do I need to take you back somewhere? Ah –- to church, maybe?”

---