the truck engine filled his mind, as did the memory of Rachel’s soothing voice infiltrating his sleep. Nick stole a glance. Her thumbs caressed the steering wheel as her hands competently guided the truck toward Casper. Nick clenched his jaw against the mounting tension. No way would he explain his outburst. No way would he confess how much he’d appreciated her presence to pull him out of the nightmare. No way would he encourage her in any way, shape or form.
In some bizarre way, she held too much power over him as it was.
Trees rushed by them in a blur. They were making great time now, even with the wet roads. Rachel drove like a pro, her detestable earbuds in place since early this morning.
It was better this way. Nick nodded to himself. They’d awakened in silence, they’d eaten in silence, now they drove in silence. Kinda like an instant replay of his marriage.
Ka-thunk.
“Whoa.” Rachel glanced in the rear view mirror, her grip tightening on the steering wheel. “I didn’t need this.”
Thump, thump, thump, thump.
“Hold tight,” Nick commanded as he reached over to help. “The weight of the truck should make stopping easy.”
She brushed his hand away. “I know how to drive out a flat tire. Relax.”
She maneuvered the vehicle to the side of the road. The clatter of the diesel engine kept rhythm with the rocking of the cab. Rachel shifted to park. Removing her earbuds, she sat still, her eyes closed.
Nick muttered under his breath. A flat tire. He listened to the sleet hitting the top of the cab. The last thing they needed was trouble, and now they had it with a capital T. The thought of icy rain running down his back while he wrestled with a 60-pound tire only added fuel to his foul mood. He had rain gear–-
“This shouldn’t take me long.” Rachel removed her MP3 player and cords, sliding them carelessly atop the dashboard. Faint strands of tinny music filtered through the air before she snapped the button to silence. She turned in her seat and dragged her pack up to the front of the cab. “I assume you have a full-sized spare?” She began to rummage through her pack.
“I’ll change the tire,” he returned, the hum in his head started by the flat, now compounded by her attitude.
Pulling out a lined windbreaker, she jammed an arm into a sleeve. “Where is it written that changing tires is your job? I’m perfectly capable of doing this. You stay in here and take care of yourself.” She stomped down on the side pedal effectively setting the emergency brake. “Make sure you don’t knock the stick into reverse, okay? I’ll be back in a flash.”
Before Nick could argue, she piled out of the cab and slammed the door behind her. Stunned, he sat there all of five seconds before reaching behind his seat and grabbing his rain poncho.
Take care of yourself.
He certainly could take care of himself. . .and her. Women. Give them the upper hand in any situation and they think they own the world. Shoving the door open, he pulled the hood over his head and slipped out. Sleet pelted his head as pain pounded in his temples. He slammed the cab door behind him despite the spots swimming in the corner of his eyes. Blinking rapidly, he cleared his vision and turned toward the bed of the truck, catching the edge of the rail for balance. Change the tire on a full-ton, 4-wheel drive pickup. Even Mitch wouldn’t put his niece to work like that.
When he reached the back of the truck, Rachel was already cranking down the spare from beneath the bed of the truck. He slapped his hand on top of the tailgate sending droplets of water flying in every direction. She didn’t look up.
“Get back in the truck before you hurt yourself.” He reached for the tire iron. “I’ll get this done.”
“I think you’ve got it the other way around,” she shouted over the driving wind as she shoved his hand away. “You’re the one who’s hurt and needs to take care. I’ve changed plenty of tires over the
In some bizarre way, she held too much power over him as it was.
Trees rushed by them in a blur. They were making great time now, even with the wet roads. Rachel drove like a pro, her detestable earbuds in place since early this morning.
It was better this way. Nick nodded to himself. They’d awakened in silence, they’d eaten in silence, now they drove in silence. Kinda like an instant replay of his marriage.
Ka-thunk.
“Whoa.” Rachel glanced in the rear view mirror, her grip tightening on the steering wheel. “I didn’t need this.”
Thump, thump, thump, thump.
“Hold tight,” Nick commanded as he reached over to help. “The weight of the truck should make stopping easy.”
She brushed his hand away. “I know how to drive out a flat tire. Relax.”
She maneuvered the vehicle to the side of the road. The clatter of the diesel engine kept rhythm with the rocking of the cab. Rachel shifted to park. Removing her earbuds, she sat still, her eyes closed.
Nick muttered under his breath. A flat tire. He listened to the sleet hitting the top of the cab. The last thing they needed was trouble, and now they had it with a capital T. The thought of icy rain running down his back while he wrestled with a 60-pound tire only added fuel to his foul mood. He had rain gear–-
“This shouldn’t take me long.” Rachel removed her MP3 player and cords, sliding them carelessly atop the dashboard. Faint strands of tinny music filtered through the air before she snapped the button to silence. She turned in her seat and dragged her pack up to the front of the cab. “I assume you have a full-sized spare?” She began to rummage through her pack.
“I’ll change the tire,” he returned, the hum in his head started by the flat, now compounded by her attitude.
Pulling out a lined windbreaker, she jammed an arm into a sleeve. “Where is it written that changing tires is your job? I’m perfectly capable of doing this. You stay in here and take care of yourself.” She stomped down on the side pedal effectively setting the emergency brake. “Make sure you don’t knock the stick into reverse, okay? I’ll be back in a flash.”
Before Nick could argue, she piled out of the cab and slammed the door behind her. Stunned, he sat there all of five seconds before reaching behind his seat and grabbing his rain poncho.
Take care of yourself.
He certainly could take care of himself. . .and her. Women. Give them the upper hand in any situation and they think they own the world. Shoving the door open, he pulled the hood over his head and slipped out. Sleet pelted his head as pain pounded in his temples. He slammed the cab door behind him despite the spots swimming in the corner of his eyes. Blinking rapidly, he cleared his vision and turned toward the bed of the truck, catching the edge of the rail for balance. Change the tire on a full-ton, 4-wheel drive pickup. Even Mitch wouldn’t put his niece to work like that.
When he reached the back of the truck, Rachel was already cranking down the spare from beneath the bed of the truck. He slapped his hand on top of the tailgate sending droplets of water flying in every direction. She didn’t look up.
“Get back in the truck before you hurt yourself.” He reached for the tire iron. “I’ll get this done.”
“I think you’ve got it the other way around,” she shouted over the driving wind as she shoved his hand away. “You’re the one who’s hurt and needs to take care. I’ve changed plenty of tires over the
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