AllFreeNovel
Share Us
And it’s headed straight for me.
I brace myself for impact. The barricades are built to keep a semi-tractor trailer from crushing my mortal coil, but still. This situation is about to turn my hair white.
I’m not much for praying, but today, I’m praying.
The driver, whoever he is, suddenly realizes what’s happening and slams on the brakes. The car skids to a long, gradual, screeching halt, its tires smoking before stopping directly in front of my gate.
I blow out a long breath and eyeball the driver’s hands, braced on the wheel; his fingers are long and tanned, with thick, rough knuckles. The car is way too small for this guy.
My eyes travel up to his face. He wears a New York Yankees ball cap, sunglasses, and the chintziest costume mustache I’ve ever seen. The bottom half of his face features a strong jaw with full lips set in a grimace.
He looks deeply stressed or in shock.
“Hey there, Billy Joe. If you’re looking for Bobbie Sue, she’s headed that-a-way.”
The driver turns to me with a sour expression. “Pardon me?”
I lean out the window and prop myself up on my elbow, chin in my hand, admiring the driver’s lightly stubbled jawline that could cut diamonds. “You see, Billy, someone drives like that for one of two reasons. Your girl took off with your money, you’re fleeing the law, or both. Now you,” I say, gesturing with my forehead, “you look like it could go either way. Handsome fella such as yourself, you look like you got taken for a cool million, so I figured there must be a Bobbie Sue somewhere.”
“Madam?”
Being from West Virginia, I’m used to being called ma’am. But madam? That’s a first. A deep voice calling me that with a strange accent? Well, I need this driver to talk some more.
“Wait, you’re not heading to a fire, right? That’d be another possible scenario.”
“No,” he replies, his brows drawn together. Those sunglasses cover his eyes, but my goodness, what pretty skin. His top lip is starting to sweat, which’ll definitely play havoc with the adhesive on his high-school-drama-department ‘stache.
“Right. Childbirth? You on your way to the hospital in a hurry?”
“Certainly not.”
Huh. Kinda snooty but deep-voiced and sexy as all get out.
And odd, too. Most speedy motorists would impatiently ask me to shut my trap and take their money already. Not this guy.
He’s clearly not from around here. Not even from this country. Europe, maybe? I can’t place the accent. This needs further investigation. Sure, I’m bored, and I’m taking advantage of the fact that this foreigner has no idea how things work here.
“Now,” I say, scratching my head, “suppose you are running from the law. If that’s the case, I might want to delay you to give Smokey a chance to catch up.”
“Is this always how tollbooth ambassadors treat travelers in your country?”
Ah. He’s catching on. With an attitude to boot. But I’m the one with the button that moves the gate.
“Ambassador! I like that. I’m gonna put that in the suggestion box at the welcome center.”
The driver furrows that pretty forehead deeper still, then slowly removes his sunglasses. The firm line of his mouth unlocks to say something, but he appears lost for words.
When my gaze claps onto this man’s eyes, my throat closes up, and my palms go instantly clammy.
If this doesn’t beat all.
“Baader-freakin-Meinhof,” I whisper.
“Madam, are you unwell?”
This driver, this man who does not seem to like me at all, is a dead ringer for Torben Haart. The Favored Prince.
Yes, that one. From my dang crossword puzzle.
