In my car on the way to Bozeman, I gave myself a pep talk.
I could do this.
I could spend two weeks around a man that scared me.
It wasn’t like he was going to attack me when I was in a courtroom, for God’s sake.
I didn’t know how long I was driving before my new car started to sputter.
I glanced at the gas light to make sure I had gas. Full.
I studied the instrument panel, and everything was clear.
Then the car gave one final choke and died.
I pulled over into the only place I could, a runaway truck exit.
I pulled as far to the side as I could and got out, glaring at the stupid car.
Pulling my phone from my pocket, I prayed there was a signal.
There wasn’t.
My god.
So, of course, that would be the moment in time that a motorcycle would pull up.
I prayed that it would just pass me.
But the sound of the motor’s roar notched down and down until it pulled up behind me.
I reluctantly turned around to see who it was, praying it was anyone else.
I, of course, was out of luck.
Odin took off his sunglasses and stared at me. “Car troubles?”
I gritted my teeth and nodded once.
His lips quirked. “Bummer.”
I crossed my arms over my chest.
“You got a jacket in the car?”
I frowned. “Yes.”
“Get it.”
I almost asked why, but I didn’t.
Instead, I got the jacket and shrugged it on.
He jerked his head toward the bike. “Get on.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but his words stopped me. “We have to be at the courthouse in an hour, and you don’t want to have a bench warrant placed on you for not showing up.”
I opened my mouth and closed it.
