Chapter 10
Renata pulled on her mittens, zipped up her down coat and tugged her brightly colored knit hat on. It was twenty-eight degrees, pitch black and she had a flat tire. She could call one of her brothers...and they’d come and drag her home.
Home.
She rested her forehead on the steering wheel.
She didn’t run. Ever. But she’d never, ever been so humiliated. The whole town had been there, watching as Ash’s obvious proposal went horribly, horribly wrong. She groaned. What choice did she have? Facing Stonewall Crossing now—her family—set her stomach to churning all over again. And there was absolutely nothing left in it.
But it wasn’t just the spectacle of her absolute embarrassment. Betrayal and hurt battled for dominance. Her father... He’d given Ash his blessing? She’d told him, and her brothers, that they weren’t getting married. But clearly her opinion didn’t matter.
Of course her father wanted her to marry the father of her child—that’s what she wanted, too. If there was love and commitment and all the things an engaged couple should feel. She and Ash weren’t that couple. And, still, her own father wanted her to marry him? After telling her and showing her, every day of his life, the necessity of love to a marriage and family, how could he believe she’d accept Ash’s proposal?
What was worse... If she’d seen even a glimmer of something, beyond fear and panic, in his eyes—some hint of affection—she might have accepted his proposal. Because...because of what she was feeling for him.
She shook her head, firmly locking away that conundrum for now. Not tonight.
Whether or not the proposal had happened, word was out. And now Stonewall Crossing was abuzz over her impending marriage to the handsome new veterinarian. And the pregnancy? The constant ping of congratulations texts and well wishes seemed to suggest everyone was overjoyed at her pregnancy—due to her imminent marriage.
That would all change when she rejected him. And she would reject him.
“Just because you two are a wonderful mistake doesn’t mean marrying your father would turn out that way,” she said to her stomach and sighed. “Is it so wrong to want to be happy? To want love?”
The truck cab remained eerily quiet. She lifted her head and peered out into the dark night. Thick white flakes were falling, blanketing the land in frigid silence.
Sitting here in the cold wasn’t an option. She knew how to change a tire. Her daddy believed in teaching all of his kids basic vehicle maintenance. Tires, oil, windshield wiper fluid, all that stuff. She was a confident, independent, capable woman, dammit. And, right now, the need to be self-sufficient was overwhelming.
“Let’s do this, babies,” she said out loud, trying to bolster her fragile spirits.
The minute she pushed the truck door open, she was blasted by the icy night air. Tugging her coat tighter around her, she slid from the cab and walked around to the truck bed. The beam of her flashlight cut a wide swath in the dark, her isolation more than a little unnerving. Not that she was going to regret her mad dash from the safety of her home. Or wish she’d simply retreated to the privacy of her apartment versus driving an hour into no-man’s land in the middle of the night.
“So not helping.” With the flashlight propped on the truck bed, she rifled through the toolbox until she had all the parts needed for the tire change. “See, all good.”
Now came the fun part.
The tire was screwed under the truck bed. Which meant she’d have to lie down, unscrew the tire and roll it out. Then there was the whole pumping up the jack thing. Just leaning against the side of the truck had caused the fabric of her gown to go damp—and freezing.
“Sorry, guys,” she mumbled. “I’ll make this as quick as I can.”
Not quick enough. Opening the rack that held the tire in place was harder than it looked. The frost, probably. Her thick mittens didn’t help, snagging and catching on the screws and brackets, so she tugged them off and threw them aside. Within seconds, her fingers were so cold it was hard to keep a solid grip on the pliers she was using.
“Stupid,” she ground out, both hands gripping the handles. “Stupid.”
A vehicle’s high beams hit her car, illuminating the underside of her truck and the tire bracket.
“Ha!” she cried, managing to twist the screw a full turn before her fingers went numb and the tool slipped from her hand. It fell, heavy, to the grass right by her head.
“That could have hurt,” she ground out, her heart hammering in her ears. If it had hit her on the head, then what? She was in the middle of nowhere, hours from help. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, running her hands over her stomach. “I’m so sorry.” Her eyes stung, like her fingertips. But this time, the stinging had nothing to do with the temperature and everything to do with her predicament.
“What was I thinking?” Right now, the only person to blame was herself.
She hadn’t realized the vehicle had pulled onto the shoulder of the road beside her until she noticed the ground beneath her was flooded with light. The roar of an engine, the slam of a door...the crunch of boots on the newly fallen sleet.
Followed by an all-too-familiar voice. “Please tell me you’re not under there.” The instant relief—and something far more alarming—Ash Carmichael’s presence caused vanished. He was angry.
He was angry? He was the reason she was in this situation. Sort of. She stayed where she was, shivering and fuming.
“Renata,” he snapped. “It’s freezing.”