Page 209 of Need You To Choose Me

“Oh, that’s really not necessary, Mr. Larson. I’m sure I can manage.”

“Nonsense,” he chuckles. “Such a pretty lady should never walk alone.”

Deciding fighting him is futile and will take longer, I reluctantly give in.

He chats as we make our way to the parking lot, where I suffer through another meaty arm grab before I manage to slip into my truck. The white Range Rover was a gift from my parents for my sweet sixteenth, something I was grateful for because, atleast in that regard, I didn’t depend on John. Tossing my bag on the passenger seat, I start the car and pull out of the parking lot.

The soft country music is playing on the radio as I make my way back to Bluebonnet, my mind still reeling with my possibilities.

I didnotwant to take this job if it wasn’t absolutely necessary. This man was giving me the creeps. Sure, as a receptionist, I wouldn’t work with him, but something told me that wouldn’t matter.

I sent out a few more e-mails earlier today; not an easy feat since Bluebonnet Creek was a small town, and there weren’t many options to begin with, especially not for a college dropout who hasn’t-worked-a-day-in-her-life single mom of a six-year-old boy who’s deaf.

Still, I was hoping any of those would get back to me and get back to me fast. I guess I could always search for something else while I worked here.

Maybe I should try and take a few classes at the local community college. It wouldn’t be ideal, but it might give me an edge in the job market. God knew I needed any edge I could get. Something had to give, right?

A girl could ho?—

A loudbangstartles me out of my thoughts as the truck swerves on the road. My fingers tighten around the steering wheel as I try to gain control of my truck and press my foot against the brake.

The truck lets out a screeching sound. My body jerks forward, hair falling in my face, when the truck finally comes to a stop.

Oh my God.

My whole body is shaking as I suck in gulp-fulls of air, my heart hammering against my ribcage. Slowly, I lift my head and look out, taking in the empty road in front of me.

It was fine.

Iwas fine.

One by one, I uncurl my fingers from the steering wheel and reach for the door handle. My legs are shaky when I get out and take in my truck. It’s standing askew, and the front right tire is busted.

“Dammit.”

I so donotneed this right now.

I run my still-shaky fingers through my hair. “What the hell am I supposed to do now?”

So much for thinking things can’t get worse.

I glare at the offending tire, at all the different screws and mud on the black rubber. Did I even have a spare? I never had to use one, so I had no idea, and even if I did have it, I wouldn’t know how to change it. When I was a teenager, my dad used to take care of my car, and then after I got married, John was the one to do it. I never had to think about it, until now.

Pulling out my phone, I search for our local mechanic’s number. Mrs. Darrow answers after a few rings, her voice extremely perky as she sing-songs, “Darrow’s Mechanic Shop, Julia speaking, how can I help you?”

“Hi, Mrs. Darrow, this is Rose O’Ne— Hathaway.”

“Rose, hi! How are you doing, honey?”

“I… I’ve had better days,” I admit, letting out a sigh. “I was just going home when my tire blew.”

“Oh, no, that’s awful.”

“Tell me about it. Do you think somebody could come and replace it? Or tow my truck back home?”

“Dang it, Jimmy just went out with the tow truck. There was an accident, so it might take a while. Can you call somebody else to come and help you out? If you have a spare, they can just exchange it, and you’ll be good to go.”

Shit.

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