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Alana points to the big ass tree, shivering as the words leave her mouth. “That thing took out a cell tower and came flying toward me.”
“Are you hurt?” My eyes scan her, looking for any sign of injury.
She shakes her head. “No.”
The tow truck driver inserts himself into the middle of our conversation. “It’s a good thing. Would have been a shame to get any scratches on that pretty face”—he visibly ogles Alana’s chest—“or that pretty body. Am I right?” With a chuckle that makes me itchy, he slaps my shoulder like we’re the best of buddies.
I glare at his hand where it’s sitting on my shoulder. “D’you mind?”
With a chuff, he removes his hand. Then he excuses himself to go load up Alana’s SUV, as she fills me in.
“I…I got lucky. Only a branch of it went through m-my window. It…it could have been much worse,” she explains.
“Did you call for help?” I question her, giving her all my attention.
Her head bobs and water flicks down her face. “I did. B-but the 911 dispatcher put me on hold. And then the call got d-disconnected. And…” She shivers again. “I guess they’re…they’re receiving lots of calls right now…I…”
She’s shaken. I can hear it in the way her voice cracks as she speaks. I can see it in the way she wraps her arms around her middle.
I can’t blame her. A cringe moves through me just looking at her smashed-to-smithereens windshield and the tree and the electrical wires and downed tower in the middle of the road.
Seeing all this, hearing Alana’s account…it’s clear that this could have gone very badly. I’m overwhelmed by the need—by this innate instinct—to hold her.
I’m about to reach out and squeeze her into my arms, but I stop myself before I make a fool of myself. I play it off, raking my hands through my hair.
Dammit, what am I doing?Knowing Alana, she wouldn’t want me touching her like that.
I convince myself that any protectiveness I’m feeling is just the cop in me taking over. That it’s not about some silly lingering feelings that I’m harboring for my ex-wife.
“Fuck. Are you sure you’re okay, Allie?” My own voice is shaking now.
She freezes, and it’s then that I realize this is the first time in years that I’ve called her by my nickname for her. Allie.
“I’m fine,” she says defiantly. Her eyes meet mine and I try to convince myself that the wetness there is from the rain. But I know she’s not fine. I know that she’s been crying. And I just want to hold her.
The tow truck driver finishes hitching Alana’s car to his truck and moseys back toward us. “Okay, miss. All done.”
“Thank you,” she whispers, her smile forced.
The man’s eyes track down her body and he flashes a mouth full of chipped teeth. “You know…most women would look like a drowned rat out here in all this rain. But wet is a good look on you.” His eyebrows waggle as he starts walking away. “Okay. Hop in the truck and let’s get out of the rain.”
Alana’s forehead crinkles and her arms go tighter around her middle. The man’s slick comment gave me the heebie jeebies, too.
I could never in good faith leave a woman alone with this creep. Let alone Alana.
“Hey, man,” I call out to the driver’s back. “The lady will be riding with me.”
He glances at me over his shoulder, surprise then disappointment written on his face.
“Davis,” Alana says to me, hushed. “It’s fine. I’m okay. The tow truck driver will drive me back to Honey Hill, and from there, I’ll rent a car to drive down to the wedding in the morning.”
“We’re nearly half way to Crescent Harbor,” I argue. “Going back home and starting over will cost you time you don’t have to spare. Plus, the roads are getting worse by the hour. At this rate, they could be flooded by tomorrow.”
“Don’t you think I’ve already considered all that?” she shoots back. “It’s not ideal but it’s the best option I have at the moment.”
“Your best option?” I ask incredulously. “You seriously think that getting in that truck withthat guyis your best option here?”
She huffs. “I’m a grown woman, Westbrook. I don’t need your condescending remarks.”
