Page 1 of Relief Pitcher

CHAPTER1

TYLER

Team Tap That Group Text

Ty: I’ve got a surprise for my favorite people. Made a detour while at the coast. [angel emoji] [photo of a bag full of Tillamook cheese]

Austin: Did you get me squeaky cheese???

Ty: You have your own package of it.

Ethan: Thanks for preventing a repeat of the Squeaky Cheese Incident of 2008.

Austin: How many times do I have to apologize for that? I get hangry sometimes!

Dom: You should’ve come straight home. The storm is picking up steam.

Ethan: No cheese for Dom!

* * *

The rain peltedmy car roof like a troupe of angry tap dancers. The accompanying clicking sound from my engine ratcheted my stress level past eleven. I clenched the steering wheel as Dom’s words from earlier echoed in my mind.Reschedule your coastal meetings to next week. It’s not worth driving in the storm.He’d been right, but I wasn’t about to admit it. He didn’t need an ego boost.

Rescheduling to next week wouldn’t work since one of our biggest customers on the Oregon Coast was about to leave on an extended vacation, and he’d wanted to get his order in for fall. The guy was old school and expected his sales meetings to be in person, which was how I’d ended up driving to the beach on a Saturday in shit weather.

At least I had procured a bag of treasure from the Tillamook Cheese Factory for my troubles after securing a huge order at the meeting. Four kinds of cheese—including squeaky cheese because it was the best—cheesy popcorn, saltwater taffy, and some peanut butter fudge because my brother couldn’t get enough of the stuff.

The bag rolled off the passenger seat and onto the floorboard as I slowed to take a sharp curve over the mountain pass. I should’ve buckled my precious cargo in. Thankfully, it was early enough in the afternoon that I still had light to help me navigate.

I couldn’t remember if Punxsutawney Phil had seen his shadow last month or what seeing his shadow even meant. With the gloomy overcast sky pissing down, I could take a guess. When our civilization collapsed, what would future archaeologists think about using a groundhog to predict the weather?

Between the wind picking up speed and the clicking sound in my car growing more ominous, worry inched up my spine. I’d meant to take my car in to get checked out after the check engine light came on last week—or was that a couple of weeks ago?—but it never reached the top of my to-do list.

“You can do it. If you get me home safely, I’ll get you detailed.” I patted the steering wheel on Carla, my trusty Toyota Corolla.

I turned up the radio to tune out the threatening sounds and sang along to the Backstreet Boys while I slowed to take another curve. Top 40 from any era was my genre of choice.

Out of my three best friends and brother, how were none of us car guys? There should be a rule that every friend group have a car guy. If the Tap That Brewery crew had one, or if my car warranty hadn’t expired six months ago, I wouldn’t have had to drive a clicking car to the coast. We needed a lesbian mechanic in our squad.

Breaking news. The clicking graduated to more of a groan.That doesn’t sound good.

Sideways rain splashed across my windshield in buckets and the wind howled as I white-knuckled the steering wheel. At least I’d made it through the worst of the pass. The road had leveled out, but there was no shoulder to pull onto if needed.

I clutched the steering wheel hard enough to cut off blood flow, which wasn’t a good idea, given I had a Grindr hookup in a few hours. Functioning fingers were a prerequisite for what I had in mind. My dick twitched at the prospect of blowing my load onto the abs in the profile pic of the guy I’d messaged with earlier. Assuming he didn’t cancel at the last minute like guys did half the time anymore.

Smoke began to snake out from the edges of my hood. “Fuck!” I slowed even more while searching for a place to pull off, but there weren’t many options on the two-lane road. I needed to keep driving until I found a spot or my car decided for me.

I squinted at something colorful ahead. The overworked windshield wipers let me catch glimpses until the shape became clear. A carved tree stump with attached wooden address and surname signs stood next to the entrance of a narrow drive. It was either take my chances with the sketchy driveway or risk breaking down somewhere dangerous. I turned onto the gravel drive and followed it between tall trees that were blocking the worst of the rain. The tendrils of smoke grew thicker as I pushed Carla to her limits, hoping to find help or a safe place to park while I waited for AAA.

Maybe I should call one of the guys for help. None of them might have the desired vehicular expertise, but Dom would have some ideas and say them with enough confidence that I’d believe him. Seth was a good problem-solver, Austin worked quick, and Ethan would cheer me up.

The road split ahead. As a lefty, I veered in that direction and followed the road around a curve until Carla sputtered to a stop.

On a desolate road.

In a storm.

At least I could call for help. I picked up my phone from the passenger seat and spotted the dreaded words:No Service.I was lost and surely about to get murdered by some forest-dwelling, axe-wielding murderer.What the hell am I gonna do now?

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