drive vehicles to pass and he'd reach my door. Not that I knew for sure he was coming my way – not like I was expecting anybody to come looking for me on Highway 75 above Marietta, Georgia.
My phone chimed. I looked down at it hurriedly.
"Relax," Sunny said. Best friend since high school, freshman year. Sunny's one of those weird, six degrees of separation types. She always knows someone. She probably knows Kevin Bacon. "His name is Rick Barnes. He's part of a volunteer Facebook Jeep rescue team. Be nice – he didn't make it snow."
I sent back "K" because there wasn't time for anything else. He'd reached the side of my car and was standing there exhaling clouds of vapor into the cold late afternoon air.
"Mya? My name's Rick Barnes." Then he did something very strange. He put one hand over his heart and said in a strangely foppish voice, "I have come to wescue you."
"Um?" I asked, staring. I could feel how wide my eyes were.
Rick Barnes sighed. "It's a movie quote. Now I can't remember which one. Princess Bride maybe? Or Shrek. "
"Oh," I said, not at all relieved.
Sensing my hesitation, he unwrapped the scarf from his lower face and smiled, which was dazzling. "Not crazy. Just a movie buff."
I almost missed what he was saying. From a distance I'd seen his face when the scarf had come free. Up close? Wow. Seriously good looking in a rugged outdoorsy kind of way. At the same time, I could imagine him smoking down a cigarette before getting on a motorcycle. Or a surf board.
He spoiled the illusion by pulling the scarf back on, but I couldn't blame him. The snow had stopped and the temperature had seriously dropped. "I guess I shouldn't quote out of the blue when coming across stranded female motorists in the wilds."
I looked around. Hardly in the wilds. Atlanta was about 90 minutes behind me, apparently receiving another threatening two inches of snow. The last time a "snow jam" had left motorists stranded and children sleeping overnight at their schools, the state officials had claimed never again.
Maybe they'd kept that promise. It was possible traffic was flowing nicely all the way through Atlanta, snow or no snow. But out here on the highway, nobody was going anywhere. It doesn't take a lot of snow to cause serious traffic problems when there are a lot of vehicles sliding around in it and kicking it up to reduce visibility. It also doesn't take a lot of snow when the place it's snowing doesn't routinely get a lot of snow.
I shoved my shoulder against the rental car door. It seemed to have frozen shut. The temperature was really dropping out here. I wanted out of the car and off the highway but I needed to know who this guy was first. Despite the tingle I got every time I looked at him. He had green eyes, the kind that crinkle at the edges and look like he's – well, honestly, smirking more than smiling. I liked his eyes, though. I was predisposed to trust him because he seemed heaven sent and because I wanted out of there. I had an appointment the next day that I couldn't miss.
And because he was damned good looking. That made me want to trust him, too.
Bad reasoning.
"Who sent you?" I asked. This Rick Barnes was really good looking but I didn't know what he thought he was going to do now or how he was going to rescue me. And I needed to know he was the person Sunny thought I was talking about.
One of my goals in life is to avoid becoming an urban legend and cautionary tale. "Never get in a car with strangers, kids. You don't want to end up like Mya Powers. She got into a car with a beautiful man during a snowstorm and was never heard of again."
"Sunny Davis. Lives in Roswell, Georgia. Said you knew her."
I nodded.
Rick gestured back over his shoulder where I could now see a black Jeep Renegade parked, spewing exhaust into the blue evening's frigid air. "Part of the Jeep rescue." Now he motioned at all the cars around us. "Pretty much everybody is texting or using social media. Passing time or calling
My phone chimed. I looked down at it hurriedly.
"Relax," Sunny said. Best friend since high school, freshman year. Sunny's one of those weird, six degrees of separation types. She always knows someone. She probably knows Kevin Bacon. "His name is Rick Barnes. He's part of a volunteer Facebook Jeep rescue team. Be nice – he didn't make it snow."
I sent back "K" because there wasn't time for anything else. He'd reached the side of my car and was standing there exhaling clouds of vapor into the cold late afternoon air.
"Mya? My name's Rick Barnes." Then he did something very strange. He put one hand over his heart and said in a strangely foppish voice, "I have come to wescue you."
"Um?" I asked, staring. I could feel how wide my eyes were.
Rick Barnes sighed. "It's a movie quote. Now I can't remember which one. Princess Bride maybe? Or Shrek. "
"Oh," I said, not at all relieved.
Sensing my hesitation, he unwrapped the scarf from his lower face and smiled, which was dazzling. "Not crazy. Just a movie buff."
I almost missed what he was saying. From a distance I'd seen his face when the scarf had come free. Up close? Wow. Seriously good looking in a rugged outdoorsy kind of way. At the same time, I could imagine him smoking down a cigarette before getting on a motorcycle. Or a surf board.
He spoiled the illusion by pulling the scarf back on, but I couldn't blame him. The snow had stopped and the temperature had seriously dropped. "I guess I shouldn't quote out of the blue when coming across stranded female motorists in the wilds."
I looked around. Hardly in the wilds. Atlanta was about 90 minutes behind me, apparently receiving another threatening two inches of snow. The last time a "snow jam" had left motorists stranded and children sleeping overnight at their schools, the state officials had claimed never again.
Maybe they'd kept that promise. It was possible traffic was flowing nicely all the way through Atlanta, snow or no snow. But out here on the highway, nobody was going anywhere. It doesn't take a lot of snow to cause serious traffic problems when there are a lot of vehicles sliding around in it and kicking it up to reduce visibility. It also doesn't take a lot of snow when the place it's snowing doesn't routinely get a lot of snow.
I shoved my shoulder against the rental car door. It seemed to have frozen shut. The temperature was really dropping out here. I wanted out of the car and off the highway but I needed to know who this guy was first. Despite the tingle I got every time I looked at him. He had green eyes, the kind that crinkle at the edges and look like he's – well, honestly, smirking more than smiling. I liked his eyes, though. I was predisposed to trust him because he seemed heaven sent and because I wanted out of there. I had an appointment the next day that I couldn't miss.
And because he was damned good looking. That made me want to trust him, too.
Bad reasoning.
"Who sent you?" I asked. This Rick Barnes was really good looking but I didn't know what he thought he was going to do now or how he was going to rescue me. And I needed to know he was the person Sunny thought I was talking about.
One of my goals in life is to avoid becoming an urban legend and cautionary tale. "Never get in a car with strangers, kids. You don't want to end up like Mya Powers. She got into a car with a beautiful man during a snowstorm and was never heard of again."
"Sunny Davis. Lives in Roswell, Georgia. Said you knew her."
I nodded.
Rick gestured back over his shoulder where I could now see a black Jeep Renegade parked, spewing exhaust into the blue evening's frigid air. "Part of the Jeep rescue." Now he motioned at all the cars around us. "Pretty much everybody is texting or using social media. Passing time or calling
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