She’d made two stupid mistakes, first leaving the truck in reverse, then letting it stall. She couldn’t blame him for losing faith in her driving abilities.
“You want me to push?” she asked.
He shook his head, his lips pressed into a thin line. “I think a decent driver can handle this without a push.”
“I’m a decent driver,” she said. “I just forgot I had it in reverse. And then it stalled. Guess this jalopy isn’t the gem you made it out to be.”
“There’s nothing wrong with the truck.” He cranked the engine to life and edged forward. She was almost disappointed when it responded and inched forward.
“I set it up for you,” she said. “If it hadn’t stalled, I’d have gotten us out of here.”
He ignored her. She wasn’t sure if the noise in the cab was the engine growling or Chase, but the end result was another spin of the tires.
Without a word, he yanked open his door and slid out of the cab. Stomping and cursing, he circled the truck, then stood in front of it and scratched his head as he regarded their predicament.
Lacey opened her door and slid from the cab, setting her high-heeled foot carefully on a rock, only to slip and end up ankle-deep in the stream.
“Shoot.” She picked her way through the rocks, ignoring the cold water. If it hadn’t been ruining her shoes, it would have felt good.
Joining him in front of the truck, she eyed their situation and sighed, blowing a stubborn strand of hair out of her face. The truck was stuck, all right. The left front tire was wedged between two rocks, and the right one had spun a deep trench into the streambed. The rock behind the rear wheels seemed to have grown since she’d driven over it.
“I’m going to have to call Cody,” he said.
“Who’s Cody?”
“Guy with a winch.” He waded back to the truck, sloshing water onto her capris. “Damn,” he said. “I’ll never hear the end of this.”
“You can tell him it was my fault,” she said.
“I sure will.” He glowered down at the phone he’d taken from his pocket and stabbed at the keypad.
“I won’t tell him how it was your stupid truck that got us stuck.”
Chapter 12
That spunky response was vintage Lacey, and suddenly Chase felt their old friendship reasserting itself. They hadn’t spent a lot of time together, and except for that one night, they’d never been close, but they’d always joked around like Burns and Allen, her playing zany Gracie to his George.
He couldn’t help smiling. “You’re not going to give an inch, are you?”
“Why should I?” Her voice wavered a little, and he knew he’d win this one.
“You can’t drive for shit,” he said. “And you’ll never admit it.”
“Well, you’ll never admit this truck’s a piece of crap. Made for off-road driving, my… patootie.”
She hadn’t sworn in high school either. She played tough, but she had more euphemisms in her vocabulary than an old maid aunt.
“You still don’t curse, do you?”
She looked away. “No. Only when I’m really mad. And I guess this was kind of my fault.” She looked back at the rock, her green eyes tearful. “You’re the one who’s probably mad.”
She looked away, blinking fast. Damn. He hadn’t meant to make her cry. And the truck probably wasn’t the gem he’d made it out to be. But at least it had been clean. Now it was spattered with mud from its white sidewalls to the fog lights on top.
So was he. His ass felt damp where he’d landed on it when she’d backed into him, and the front of his shirt was speckled with goop. He put a hand up to brush his hair back from his forehead and felt a glob of mud matting the hank that fell over his face.
He keyed a text message into the phone. Cody would come and pull them out. He was the fry cook at the diner, and he spent every penny of his limited income on a Jeep that looked like something out of a cartoon and could probably haul an elephant out of the mud-slicked banks of the Ganges. The
“You want me to push?” she asked.
He shook his head, his lips pressed into a thin line. “I think a decent driver can handle this without a push.”
“I’m a decent driver,” she said. “I just forgot I had it in reverse. And then it stalled. Guess this jalopy isn’t the gem you made it out to be.”
“There’s nothing wrong with the truck.” He cranked the engine to life and edged forward. She was almost disappointed when it responded and inched forward.
“I set it up for you,” she said. “If it hadn’t stalled, I’d have gotten us out of here.”
He ignored her. She wasn’t sure if the noise in the cab was the engine growling or Chase, but the end result was another spin of the tires.
Without a word, he yanked open his door and slid out of the cab. Stomping and cursing, he circled the truck, then stood in front of it and scratched his head as he regarded their predicament.
Lacey opened her door and slid from the cab, setting her high-heeled foot carefully on a rock, only to slip and end up ankle-deep in the stream.
“Shoot.” She picked her way through the rocks, ignoring the cold water. If it hadn’t been ruining her shoes, it would have felt good.
Joining him in front of the truck, she eyed their situation and sighed, blowing a stubborn strand of hair out of her face. The truck was stuck, all right. The left front tire was wedged between two rocks, and the right one had spun a deep trench into the streambed. The rock behind the rear wheels seemed to have grown since she’d driven over it.
“I’m going to have to call Cody,” he said.
“Who’s Cody?”
“Guy with a winch.” He waded back to the truck, sloshing water onto her capris. “Damn,” he said. “I’ll never hear the end of this.”
“You can tell him it was my fault,” she said.
“I sure will.” He glowered down at the phone he’d taken from his pocket and stabbed at the keypad.
“I won’t tell him how it was your stupid truck that got us stuck.”
Chapter 12
That spunky response was vintage Lacey, and suddenly Chase felt their old friendship reasserting itself. They hadn’t spent a lot of time together, and except for that one night, they’d never been close, but they’d always joked around like Burns and Allen, her playing zany Gracie to his George.
He couldn’t help smiling. “You’re not going to give an inch, are you?”
“Why should I?” Her voice wavered a little, and he knew he’d win this one.
“You can’t drive for shit,” he said. “And you’ll never admit it.”
“Well, you’ll never admit this truck’s a piece of crap. Made for off-road driving, my… patootie.”
She hadn’t sworn in high school either. She played tough, but she had more euphemisms in her vocabulary than an old maid aunt.
“You still don’t curse, do you?”
She looked away. “No. Only when I’m really mad. And I guess this was kind of my fault.” She looked back at the rock, her green eyes tearful. “You’re the one who’s probably mad.”
She looked away, blinking fast. Damn. He hadn’t meant to make her cry. And the truck probably wasn’t the gem he’d made it out to be. But at least it had been clean. Now it was spattered with mud from its white sidewalls to the fog lights on top.
So was he. His ass felt damp where he’d landed on it when she’d backed into him, and the front of his shirt was speckled with goop. He put a hand up to brush his hair back from his forehead and felt a glob of mud matting the hank that fell over his face.
He keyed a text message into the phone. Cody would come and pull them out. He was the fry cook at the diner, and he spent every penny of his limited income on a Jeep that looked like something out of a cartoon and could probably haul an elephant out of the mud-slicked banks of the Ganges. The
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