Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 32717 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 164(@200wpm)___ 131(@250wpm)___ 109(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 32717 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 164(@200wpm)___ 131(@250wpm)___ 109(@300wpm)
I coast along the main road, looking for a shop or a safe place to park my car, from where I can hoof it to the B&B. Even though I have all of my paint supplies in the back, my bags in the middle row, and there’s no way I can wheel them all down the red brick road.
“What a day, what a day,” I repeat, and like a beacon of hope, the flashing light of Barlow Auto Repair blinks in the distance in a blue hue. “Okay, so, worst-case scenario, I park Betty White, leave a note on my windshield, grab my small toiletry bag, walk to Oak Haven, and deal with everything else in the morning.” It’s a solid game plan. It’s not ideal, but a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do. I mean, the only other option is to see if there’s even a car service available. I’m kind of doubting that Whispering Oaks has one with how deserted the roads are and the lack of open businesses, and the few restaurants that are open aren’t packed, either.
When I pull into the parking lot, I notice there’s a garage bay door open. Maybe I’ve got a bit of luck on my side after all. Once I’m parked in a designated spot, I turn the engine off and roll the windows up before I open the door. This way, I won’t have to start my car up again. The last thing I need if my car is overheating. The reason why can be one of many things, none of which I’m certain I can fix myself.
I take the keys out of my ignition, drop them in the cupholder, and pull the lever for the hood. I’ll take a look, probably search for the worst-case scenarios on what could be the culprit. A lot like I do when an ailment hits me when I least expect it.
Does it send me into a spiral? Yes.
Does it make me feel better? Absolutely not.
Does it ease my mind? Nope, it makes my anxiety spiral.
Yet I do it anyway, time and time again.
As soon as the latch for the hood releases, I step out of my car. The flip flops I’m wearing make noise with each step I take, alerting me to the lack of sturdy footwear I chose to wear. Along with the black tank top sans bra, since it comes with a built-in one, a pair of cotton pull-on shorts that have slits on the sides, I clearly dressed for comfort and nothing else.
A shiver slides along my spine when a gust of wind ripples through the air. I should have at least grabbed the jacket I tossed in the passenger seat
“Holy shit.” I lift the hood, put the metal thing in the slot to hold it in place, and look down. There are several kinds of spatters along the plastic, colorful and looking like this is going to be an expensive repair.
“You need help with something?” I look over my shoulder and find a figure standing half in the shadow, half in the light. The corridor frames him in long lines beneath the steel of the garage door. I squint my eyes to get a better look. The glaring light lands right in my eyes and causes me to use my hand as a shield to study his form.
I move away from my car, figuring talking instead of yelling across a parking lot would be more conducive. Plus, the wind really is whipping around, and maybe being near a building will block some of it.
“Hi, uh, maybe, or I hope so.” His arms are crossed over his broad chest, and dark hair falls thick and effortless, reminiscent of how a man would brush their hair back only for it to stay untamed. A short, well-kept beard traces the strength of his jaw, giving him an edge, and his firm mouth and expressive eyes make you want to study their depths. While I’m looking at him, he’s studying me, strong and steady, making him unreadable. I don’t know whether this is his normal demeanor or it’s because I’m an out-of-towner.
“Won’t be able to get to it tonight or tomorrow, for that matter. It’ll be Monday at the earliest, and it’ll probably be the afternoon.” The owner of the deep voice expresses more of his brusque demeanor, making me rethink stopping here after all.
“Oh, is there another auto shop in town?” This strongly built, broad-shouldered, and dangerously calm man doesn’t seem to want my business. I’ve always been told not to stay where you aren’t wanted.
“The only other ones are the car dealerships, and they won’t be open till Monday. Not sure what’s going on with your car, but you're free to use them or me. The choice is yours.” This time when he speaks, it’s his facial expression that makes me re-evaluate telling him that it wouldn’t hurt to be nice. But something holds me back. No, not something. It’s the way it looks like he’s carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, like he’s lived well beyond his years.