Page 1 of Right Place, Right Time (Second Chances)
Prologue
Kate
Four Years Earlier
“Stupid, no good, piece of crap!” I wince as my sandaled foot comes into contact with the unforgiving tire of my hand-me-down Mercedes convertible. My scowl turns into a frown when I pull my foot back and see the black smudge across the white straps. This day just keeps getting worse!
I tip my head back, look up to the clouds, and pray for a cell signal. When that doesn’t work, I bargain. My first born…my soul…good behavior…even better grades…
No such luck.
I’m on a quiet stretch of the interstate, between Columbia and Greenville, where there have been too few passersby, not one of them kind enough to pull over and help the damsel in distress. And, boy, do I look the part of a damsel in distress in a white sundress and sandals with my long, dark blonde hair and big, doe-like brown eyes—the picture of innocence. At least that’s what Cedric, my family’s butler always says. He nicknamed me Bambi, for crying out loud.
If it weren’t for the hot midday sun beating down on my shoulders, I’d probably be terrified. This whole situation has a classic serial killer vibe to it, add in darkness, and I wouldnotbe standing outside my vehicle right now.
I lean back against the hot car and sigh. What a day. I drove all the way to Greenville to volunteer at an event for a community clinic, just to be informed upon arrival that the event had been rescheduled. They’d posted a notice at the site, which is really helpful when you’re one hundred miles away. I frown at my dirty sandal.
Stupid car. Yes, it’s a Mercedes, but no, it’s not brand new. It’s a 1995 model passed down from my father. It has seen many, many better days in its lifetime. My dad has always taken very good care of his cars, hence the reason this fifteen-plus-year-old car is now mine. My parents may be mostly absent from my life, but my dad wouldn’t have given me a beater for a car.
Truth is, I probably missed an oil change or something. Whatever. I don’t know anything about cars. Ask me to recite all the bones in the human body, and I’ll do it. Ask me to name one part of a car, and you’ll get crickets. I’m practically a genius, according to my latest IQ score administered by the director of the “gifted program” at my high school, so I’m sure the mechanics of a car wouldn’t be too difficult for me to figure out and understand, but this is one of those instances where I’d rather succumb to the gender stereotypes and just play the clueless female role. There’s enough information floating around in my brain without my choosing to add more, though part of me kind of wishes I at least knew how to pop my hood right about now.
Hearing the sound of a vehicle approaching behind me, I spin around to look. It’s an older sedan, maybe not as old as my hand-me-down, but it doesn’t appear to be as well kept. I can just make out that the driver is male through the dirty windshield.
Jeez. I hope he’s not a serial killer or something!
I open my car door and busy myself looking for something that could be a potential weapon should this turn intoWrong Turn. Empty water bottle, a stack of flyers for another volunteer project I’m working on, a weathered copy ofGone with the Wind…I eye the book. It’s a hard cover, it might be my best bet.
I hear a throat clear and pop my head up, narrowly missing bumping it on the roof of my car. I can only see his face over the roof of the car as he’s standing on the passenger side, lower in the soft shoulder of the highway. My five foot two inch height doesn’t help matters either. But wow, if his face is anything to go by, his body must be amazing. He has the most intense gray eyes, almost silver. His nose looks slightly crooked, like it’s been broken once or twice, and he has a strong, square jaw with subtle stubble. His hair is buzzed very short so I can’t quite tell the color but it looks dirty blond, and he’s hot—er—sweaty. Yeah, sweaty. His brow is glistening with it.
He’s all man and my seventeen-year-old self doesn’t quite know what to do with the attraction I feel. I haveneverfelt so nervous around a guy before.Ever.I simply don’t have time for this sort of thing. Not with my AP classes, studying, extracurricular activities, volunteer work, and college applications.
Smiling wide, I’m suddenly grateful for my vehicular ignorance and damsel in distress appearance. “Hey,” I smoothly call out to him, if I do say so myself.
The corner of his mouth lifts in a slight smirk and butterflies take flight in my chest. He doesn’t move to come around to my side of the car, which is just fine by me. If he were closer, he’d see the slight trembling of my hands, and he might actually hear the swarm of butterflies.
“Know anything about cars?”
He gives an almost imperceptible nod.
“Do you speak?” I huff, crossing my arms over my chest. What is this guy’s deal? Hot or not, he doesn’t have to be a jerk.
“Pop the hood,” he finally says.
I twist my hands in front of myself and grimace. “I don’t know how,” I say quietly.
He laughs, and I narrow my eyes at him. Whatever. I cross my arms back over my chest and roll my eyes, not appreciating his display and letting him know it.
“There should be a lever just below your steering wheel, feel around for it and pull it out.”
I open my car door and sit down, doing as the hot jerk says, and feeling around for a lever. I find something and pull. There’s a pop, and it looks like the hood might be a little higher than it was a second ago. I grin, pleased with myself.
I catch Hot Jerk watching my little display, and he smirks. I sneer at him, which only turns his smirk into a smile. He has a really nice smile. Hot Jerk walks around to the front of my car and starts wiggling something around in the grill. I get out of the car and approach the front, jumping back as he pulls the hood all the way up.
“Easy there, Sunshine,” he says in a deep, smooth voice I only got a small taste of moments ago. “Don’t want you falling into traffic.”
No, no we don’t.
I have this heady feeling, and I can feel my pulse thrumming through my veins. It’s like there’s a current running from his body to mine. I realize I’m standing only an inch away from Hot Jerk and take a sudden step back.
