“I suppose you noticed it rained all night.”
“Oh, get out of my way.” Incensed, Shane pushed him aside and stomped back to the driver’s seat. She turned on the ignition, shoved the shift into first, then stepped heavily on the gas. Mud flew like rain. The car groaned and sank deeper.
For a moment, Shane could only pound on the steering wheel in enraged impotence. She would have dearly loved to tell Vance that she didn’t require any assistance. There was nothing more infuriating than an amused, superior male . . . especially when you needed one. Forcing herself to take a deep breath, she climbed back out of the car to meet Vance’s grin with icy composure. “What’s the first of your few ideas?” she asked coolly.
“Got a couple of planks?”
Even more annoyed that she hadn’t thought of it herself, Shane went to the shed and found two long, thin boards. Without fuss or conversation, Vance took them and secured them just under the front wheels, Shane folded her arms and tapped one muddy boot as she watched him.
“I’d have thought of that in a minute,” she muttered.
“Maybe.” Vance stood again to walk to the rear of the car. “But you wouldn’t get anywhere the way your back wheels are stuck.”
Shane waited for him to make some comment on feminine stupidity. Then she would have an excuse to give him the full force of her temper. He merely studied her flushed face and furious eyes. “So?” she said at length.
Something suspiciously like a smile tugged at his mouth. Shane’s eyes narrowed. “So, get back in and I’ll push,” he said, then put a restraining hand on her arm. “Gentle on the gas this time, hot rod. Just put it in drive and easy does it.”
“It’s a four-speed,” she told him with dignity.
“I beg your pardon.” Vance waited until she had waded her way back to the front of the car. For the first time in months, perhaps years, he had to make a concentrated effort to control laughter. “Let the clutch out slow,” he instructed after clearing his throat.
“I know how to drive,” she snapped, and slammed the door smartly. Frowning into the rearview mirror, Shane watched him until he gave her a nod. With meticulous care, she engaged the clutch and gently pressed on the gas. The front wheels crept slowly onto the planks. The back tires slid, then stuck, then ponderously moved again. Shane kept the speed slow and even. It was humiliating, she thought, glaring straight ahead, absolutely humiliating that he was going to get her out without a hitch.
“Just a little more,” Vance called to her, shifting his weight. “Keep it slow.”
“What?” Shane rolled down the window, then stuck her head out to hear his answer. As she did, her foot slipped and fell heavily on the gas. The car shot out of the mud like a banana squeezed from its peel. With a gasp, Shane hit the brake, rocking to an abrupt halt.
Closing her eyes, she sat for a moment and considered making a run for it. She didn’t dare glance in the rearview mirror now. It wouldn’t be difficult, she reflected, to make a U-turn, then keep right on going. But cowardice wasn’t her way. She swallowed, bit her lip, then climbed out of the car to face the music.
Vance was kneeling in the mud. He was thoroughly splattered and hopping mad. “
You idiot!”
he shouted before Shane could say a word. Even as she started to agree with him, he continued. “What the hell did you think you were doing? Pea-brained little twit, I told you to take it
slow.
”
He didn’t stop there. He swore at length, and fluently, but Shane lost track of the content. It was enough to know he was in a justifiable high rage, while she was fighting a desperate battle with laughter. She did her best, her very best, to keep her face composed and penitent. Feeling it would be unwise, as well as useless, to interrupt with apologies, she folded her lips, bit the bottom one and swallowed repeatedly.
At first she concentrated on keeping her
“Oh, get out of my way.” Incensed, Shane pushed him aside and stomped back to the driver’s seat. She turned on the ignition, shoved the shift into first, then stepped heavily on the gas. Mud flew like rain. The car groaned and sank deeper.
For a moment, Shane could only pound on the steering wheel in enraged impotence. She would have dearly loved to tell Vance that she didn’t require any assistance. There was nothing more infuriating than an amused, superior male . . . especially when you needed one. Forcing herself to take a deep breath, she climbed back out of the car to meet Vance’s grin with icy composure. “What’s the first of your few ideas?” she asked coolly.
“Got a couple of planks?”
Even more annoyed that she hadn’t thought of it herself, Shane went to the shed and found two long, thin boards. Without fuss or conversation, Vance took them and secured them just under the front wheels, Shane folded her arms and tapped one muddy boot as she watched him.
“I’d have thought of that in a minute,” she muttered.
“Maybe.” Vance stood again to walk to the rear of the car. “But you wouldn’t get anywhere the way your back wheels are stuck.”
Shane waited for him to make some comment on feminine stupidity. Then she would have an excuse to give him the full force of her temper. He merely studied her flushed face and furious eyes. “So?” she said at length.
Something suspiciously like a smile tugged at his mouth. Shane’s eyes narrowed. “So, get back in and I’ll push,” he said, then put a restraining hand on her arm. “Gentle on the gas this time, hot rod. Just put it in drive and easy does it.”
“It’s a four-speed,” she told him with dignity.
“I beg your pardon.” Vance waited until she had waded her way back to the front of the car. For the first time in months, perhaps years, he had to make a concentrated effort to control laughter. “Let the clutch out slow,” he instructed after clearing his throat.
“I know how to drive,” she snapped, and slammed the door smartly. Frowning into the rearview mirror, Shane watched him until he gave her a nod. With meticulous care, she engaged the clutch and gently pressed on the gas. The front wheels crept slowly onto the planks. The back tires slid, then stuck, then ponderously moved again. Shane kept the speed slow and even. It was humiliating, she thought, glaring straight ahead, absolutely humiliating that he was going to get her out without a hitch.
“Just a little more,” Vance called to her, shifting his weight. “Keep it slow.”
“What?” Shane rolled down the window, then stuck her head out to hear his answer. As she did, her foot slipped and fell heavily on the gas. The car shot out of the mud like a banana squeezed from its peel. With a gasp, Shane hit the brake, rocking to an abrupt halt.
Closing her eyes, she sat for a moment and considered making a run for it. She didn’t dare glance in the rearview mirror now. It wouldn’t be difficult, she reflected, to make a U-turn, then keep right on going. But cowardice wasn’t her way. She swallowed, bit her lip, then climbed out of the car to face the music.
Vance was kneeling in the mud. He was thoroughly splattered and hopping mad. “
You idiot!”
he shouted before Shane could say a word. Even as she started to agree with him, he continued. “What the hell did you think you were doing? Pea-brained little twit, I told you to take it
slow.
”
He didn’t stop there. He swore at length, and fluently, but Shane lost track of the content. It was enough to know he was in a justifiable high rage, while she was fighting a desperate battle with laughter. She did her best, her very best, to keep her face composed and penitent. Feeling it would be unwise, as well as useless, to interrupt with apologies, she folded her lips, bit the bottom one and swallowed repeatedly.
At first she concentrated on keeping her
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