I stepped out into the middle of the lot and watched her head to her car. That was no fucking car. It was a vintage Jeep Wagoneer in mint condition. No doubt she’d overhauled the engine and done all the work herself.
“That went fucking well,” I muttered after her brake lights disappeared out of the lot. I climbed back into my truck. I had to shift in my seat to get comfortable, my dick as hard as it had ever been.
9
SARAH
Sunday, 4 a.m.
I wanted to take over O’Banyons, but this was one part of the job I hated. Four a.m. was not my favorite time of day. I’d been tossing and turning for a second night in a row, thinking of Huck. Of what he’d said. Of my life and what I’d done with it. Or hadn’t done. The fight. The kiss. Oh, the kiss. He was right. I felt things for him. Enough to make out with him in the Lucky Spur’s parking lot. It had made me wet, horny, and definitely cranky.
I must have fallen asleep, because my cell had woken me.
Graham had called for the second time for a tow. I mentally cursed Roy for being a drunk, lazy ass and my father for enabling the guy. Where the hell were those two? If I wasn’t supposed to be doing anything but the books behind a desk, then why weren’t they answering their damned phones?
I’d thrown on some clothes and driven to the shop to pick up the tow truck, wondering if I was enabling them as well. I was a doormat to them. They assumed I’d take care of everything. Clean up all the messes. Fill in for them when they decided to be lazy, drunk, entitled jerks.
I had. Blindly. For years. God, I’d been doing my dad’s accounting for even longer than that. He’d forgotten how to do it. I was starting to see nothing would change unless I did.
I cut through the early morning darkness on the way out of town, riding high in the tow truck. The seat was old and had me bouncing over the slightest bump.
I’d been back from Bozeman for two years. In that time I’d built up my accounting business. Had good local clients. But I’d gotten nowhere with my dad. The one person who should’ve been helping me fulfill my dreams. He knew I wanted to run the shop. I’d made it clear over and over.
And yet he stalled, just like a car with water in the gas tank.
I eased off the accelerator as the flashing blue and red lights came into view. I was on the two-lane stretch that connected The Bend to the interstate. It was a straight and level road, but accidents happened. I flipped on my hazards and the yellow tow lights on the roof and slowed to a crawl as I took in the scene that was well lit from a fire truck and two police cars. I counted six first responders milling around.
There was a single car off the road. Flipped. I pulled past the scene, then parked on the shoulder. Cutting the engine, I hopped down from the cab, grabbed the reflective vest that was tucked into the pocket on the door, and shrugged it on. Then I grabbed my leather gloves.
I walked around the back and down into the ditch. The four-door sedan was snagged on the barbed-wire fence that ran along the road. The car was set back about fifteen feet, and from the wheel tracks that cut through the mud and grass, it must’ve been going pretty fast.
I had to figure out how best to get the tow truck into place so I could use the winch to get the vehicle up onto the bed. Since it was upside down, front or back didn’t matter.
I pushed up the slight incline and came into the beam of the fire truck’s bright lights. I raised my foot to step, but freaked and jumped back, practically high stepping like a horse. It wasn’t a snake, which usually made me lose my shit. But this was no snake. There on the ground was a body. A very dead one based on the fact his head was turned at an angle only seen in exorcisms from ’80s horror movies. It was the fence post that stuck through his chest that made bile rise in my throat. A strange gasp escaped, and I felt the blood rush from my face and my fingers began to tingle.
I hadn’t seen the body and almost stepped on it…
I stared and stared. Sweat dotted my forehead, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to vomit or bolt. I’d never seen a dead body before, not even at a wake all dressed and peaceful.
This guy had died violently, clearly flung from the car when it had either flipped or made impact with the ground after.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
I jumped and spun around at the rough voice. The same one who’d scolded me earlier at the bar. Huck. He loomed over me, half of him caught in deep shadow so he looked ominous.
I almost stumbled on the uneven ground, but his hand on my elbow kept me steady, then pulled me away from the body.
How was it I’d made it six years barely seeing the guy and now I couldn’t stop running into him? His touch was reassuring. Steadying.
I swallowed hard, bile in my throat. “I… I got called to tow a car.”
He finally stopped when we were back on the side of the road, lit by headlights from one of the police cars. He ran a hand over his face, then set it on the hilt of his weapon at his hip. He had on his Stetson and jeans but looked official in his uniform shirt with the shiny star
