It was nearly four hours after my accident that I was found pinned in the car.
But that four hours would haunt me forever.
When I’d crashed, I’d gone nose first into a ditch that was filled with water that was flowing fast.
I’d spent the time watching as my car was dragged further and further down a gulley as lightning struck everything around me.
I couldn’t get out of my car because of the pressure the water kept on the doors, and I couldn’t get one single window opened.
I’d been scared to death that I’d die that night, and ever since I’d had a phobia of thunderstorms.
Now, as a precaution, I carried flares in my car, as well as a glass punch that would help me get out if it was ever needed again.
That wasn’t enough to counteract the fear that I felt every time I drove in the rain.
“It’s raining,” I hesitated.
My mother’s voice became less cheery. “I know. He said he’d send someone out to get you.”
I nodded, knowing I wouldn’t get out of it now.
He wouldn’t have been sending someone for me if it weren’t important to him.
“Fine,” I said. “What time?”
“Seven thirty. Your ride will be there around seven fifteen,” she said excitedly.
“Okay. Do you know who it is?” I asked.
“Nope. He didn’t tell your daddy that,” she said evasively.
I should’ve known when the familiar red truck that I’d helped shop for pulled into my drive an hour and a half later that it wasn’t going to be good, but I decided to be the bigger person.
Closing the door to my house behind me, and locking it, I made my way down the driveway carefully.
David got out and opened the passenger door, soaking himself to be the gentleman that we both knew he wasn’t.
There must’ve been someone there, otherwise he never would’ve bothered to get out.
He never used to.
I ignored his outstretched hand and opened the backdoor.
I was surprised to find two men already back there, one of which I couldn’t get out of my head no matter how hard I tried.
Without waiting for them to move, I climbed over Foster’s lap, scooting my ass over his legs before I plopped down into the middle seat beside him.
Foster looked surprised, while the other man beside him, one that looked eerily similar to Foster, grinned.
“Hey, how’s it going?” I asked the man, smiling at him.
He winked. “Pretty good. Although, I gave up the front seat so you could sit up there. Not so you could sit back here smashed between the both of us.
“So go back up there,” I said, shrugging and turning my face forward.
The front door slammed with unnecessary force, and I couldn’t help the smile that split over my face.
Fucking douche.
He deserved it, though.
I couldn’t believe my uncle made me ride in this piece of shit truck. The one that had been my dream truck. The truck that I’d put nearly all of my savings into to put a down payment on it. The very thing that David had fought so hard for in the divorce.
I wanted to accidentally pee on his leather fucking seats.
I still couldn’t believe that he’d won it.
He had a freakin’ 2010 Camaro. Why would he get both the car and the truck?
I, of course, was allowed to keep the 1995 Camaro that I’d had since high school because I’d brought that ‘into the relationship.’
The bonus was that David allowed his new woman to drive the new Camaro while I was stuck with a piece of crap that barely chose to run on some mornings.
But the absolute icing on the cake, the best, most awesome thing, was the freakin’ lei he had hanging from the rear view mirror.
The very thing he refused to allow me to ever fucking do.
Things hanging from the rearview mirror are a distraction.I heard whined in David’s voice.
Fucking asshole.
The rage still burned bright after all this time, and it was a good thing I couldn’t act on all my inner thoughts.
“So,” I said to the man beside me. The older one, not the one that set my girly bits to tingling. “What are we doing here tonight? I feel out of the loop.”
He raised his brows at me, and in the light of the lamps overhanging the road, I could see the smirk on his face.
“Everyone that was in on the call this afternoon is getting treated to a dinner by the hotel owner,” the man said. “My name’s Miller Spurlock. It’s nice to meet you.”
He offered me his hand, and I took it, shaking it like I was taught.
I wasn’t a limp noodle kind of girl. When I shook hands, whether it be man or woman, I made it count. I grasped their hands like I fucking meant it. Not that Miller could tell I was squeezing hard.
I scanned my brain for a few seconds, and finally came up with the number. “Unit number three.”
He nodded. “That’s me. This is my brother.”
I could tell by the laugh in his voice that he’d witnessed my outburst against his brother.
Great.
They were laughing at me now.
“We’re going to the Bodacious off 42,” David supplied helpfully.
I didn’t bother to answer him.
I’d actually been giving him the silent treatment for a year and a half now. Only modifying it when my proper upbringing demanded me to address him.
It really seemed to work well with him, too.
If I’d known that it worked so well during our marriage, I’d have used it a lot more.
“Who is this guy? And why’d it have to be tonight?” I asked Miller.
I could feel a dark energy at my back, and it was sending excited tingles up and down my arms and spine.
I could practically feel his eyes roaming over my body, studying me, and taking in my every word.
“He owns about seventy hotel chains throughout the South. That one was his first that he opened,” a deadly quiet voice said to the back of my head.
I squeezed my eyes shut, thankful that the darkness kept me from giving my feelings away to the men in the truck.