This wasn't the best place in the world to have a
breakdown, either in one's car or one's life.
Summer Maxwell was having both, however. Wanting to say
words her grandmother wouldn't appreciate, Summer kicked
the front right tire of her late-model sportscar, then let
out a frustrated groan as she looked up and down the
lonely Texas back road. A sign a few feet from her car
stated Athens, 9 Miles.
So close, yet still so far away. "I just had to drive all
the way home from New York, didn't I?" she shouted to the
hot, humid wind. "And I just had to do it in this pitiful
excuse for an automobile."
Summer eyed the faded red of the twenty-year-old Jaguar,
wondering why she'd never bothered to buy a new car. Maybe
because this one had belonged to her father at one time,
and maybe because that was a connection she wasn't ready
to give up, even if it wasn't always pleasant.
James Maxwell had given his only daughter the car when
she'd graduated from high school, his silky, charming
words making the deal all the more sweet since he'd missed
the graduation ceremony. "Daddy wants you to have this
one, honey. I'm getting me a brand-new Porsche. And your
mama, she doesn't want this one. Guess that means I'll be
buying her a Cadillac soon."
"Yeah, you sure did buy Mama a new set of wheels," Summer
muttered as the gloaming of another hot Texas day brought
a cool wisp of breeze floating over her. And James Maxwell
hadn't even bothered to wish his daughter well as she
headed off to college with her cousins, April and Autumn.
No, her father hadn't bothered with much at all regarding
his daughter. Maybe because he'd wanted a son so badly, to
carry on the glory days of his rodeo career.
"Sorry, Daddy," Summer said now and wondered why she
always felt it necessary to apologize for everything.
Her parents were globe-trotters, too tied up in each other
and her father's rodeo and oil-industry endorsements to
worry about their rebellious daughter. So they'd dumped
her on her mother's parents for most of her life, while
they enjoyed the good life that came with being oiland
cattle-rich Maxwells.
"I'm almost there, Memaw," Summer said as she lifted the
hot hood of the car, then backed away as a damp mist of
smoke poured over her. "Must be the radiator again."
Wishing she hadn't been so stubborn about not flying, or
about not taking her cousin Autumn's sensible sedan,
Summer looked up and down the long road. She could call
her grandfather on her cell, get him to come and pick her
up. That is, if her cell would even work in these isolated
piney woods.
"Or I could walk," she reasoned. "Maybe physical activity
would keep me from having that breakdown I so richly
deserve."
Grabbing her aged baseball-glove-leather tote bag from the
passenger's seat of the convertible, Summer tried her
cell. Low power and even lower battery. No surprise there.
"Okay, I guess I get to walk nine miles along this bug-
infested highway. Nice, Summer, real nice."
She was about to put up the worn black top of the car and
lock it, when she heard a truck rumbling along the highway.
"Oh, great. Let's hope you are a kind soul," she said into
the wind. "I have always relied upon the kindness of
strangers", she quoted from Tennessee Williams.
And let's pray you aren't some psycho out on the loose.
Not that she couldn't handle herself. She was armed with
pepper spray and a whole arsenal of self-defense courses.
She'd learned all about how to protect herself, working as
a counselor to battered women at a New York City YWCA for
the past five years.
She'd also learned all about the dark, evil side of life
working there, too. Which was why she was now stranded on
this road. Everyone she knew in New York, including her
cousins and her immediate supervisor, had agreed it was
time for Summer to take a vacation.
Burned out. Stressed out. Angry. Bitter.
Those were the words they'd used to describe her. And that
didn't even begin to touch the surface. Summer took a long
breath, tried to imagine a peaceful scene somewhere in the
tired recesses of her mind, while she waited for the old
truck to pull up beside her. But somehow, she didn't
believe deep breathing would get her through this acute,
aching depression.
And neither would God, she decided.
Then she looked up and saw her rescuer.
He was young, probably only a few years older than
Summer's twenty-seven years. He was pretty in a rugged,
rough-cut way. He had vivid gray-blue eyes that flashed
like heat lightning. And he had crisp, curly light-brown
hair that seemed to be rebelling against the humidity.
Warning flares went off in Summer's weary mind like
fireworks on the Fourth of July.
Putting the rickety old truck into Park, he said, "Need
some help?"
Summer decided that was an understatement, but she hid
that behind what she hoped was a serene smile. "Kinda
looks that way, doesn't it?"
"Want me to look under the hood?"
"No need," she said, ignoring the homesick delight his
Texas drawl caused along her skin. "It's the radiator.
Probably finally busted for good."
He got out and walked to the raised hood anyway. Since he
was a man, Summer figured he didn't trust her word on car
maintenance. Had to see it for himself. Probably thought
just because she was a blonde, that she didn't have any
brain cells. Never mind that she had been a double major
in college. No need for this handsome interloper to know
that just yet.
He turned and wiped his hands down the sides of his worn
jeans. "Yep, looks like you're right. It's too hot to even
touch right now."
Summer noted his solid build and laid-back swagger. "I
told you so," she said with a hint of sarcasm to hide the
hint of interest she had in him.
He ignored the sarcasm, his gaze filled with his own
interest. "Where you headed?"
"Athens." She didn't feel the need to give him any more
information.
"I live there," he said. Then he extended his hand.
"Mack Riley."
"Summer Maxwell," she said, taking his hand and enjoying
the strength of his touch a little too much.
He pulled his hand away with a quick tug, making her
wonder if he'd felt that little bit of awareness,
too. "Summer?"
"Yes," she said, thinking she saw recognition in his
beautiful eyes.
"Pretty name." He hesitated, then said, "And just who are
you visiting in Athens?"
"My grandparents," she replied, mystified by his suddenly
odd behavior. "I wanted to surprise them."
"Oh, I reckon they'll be surprised, all right," he said as
he shut the car's hood. "Who are your grandparents? I
might know them."
"Jesse and Martha Creswell," Summer said, thinking he
probably did know them. Everybody knew just about
everybody else in the small town of Athens, Texas.
He stepped back, gave her a look that shouted confusion
and surprise. "Well, how 'bout that."
"You know them?" she asked, echoing her thoughts.
"I sure do," he replied. "Good people. C'mon, I'll give
you a ride into town, then we'll send a tow truck to get
your car."
"I'd appreciate that," Summer said, sending up a prayer
that he wasn't dangerous. She knew better then to get in a
car with a complete stranger, but he seemed normal, and he
knew her grandparents. But just to test that theory, she
put her hands on her hips and asked, "Will I be safe with
you?"
He laughed, shook his head. "I'm not on any Top Ten Most
Wanted List, if that's what you mean."
Oh, but he could be on a Top Ten Hunk list, Summer
decided. His smile was criminal in its beauty.
"Okay," she retorted as she started locking up the car. "I
just had to be sure. "Cause my granddaddy, he shoots first
and asks questions later."
"I hear that," he said, helping her to latch the
convertible top. "I do believe Jesse would have my hide if
I let anything happen to you."
"So how well do you know my grandparents?"
"I met them when I first moved here."
Why did she get the feeling he was being evasive? Maybe
because he wouldn't look her in the eyes.
And maybe because she'd learned not to trust people on
first impressions.
"Am I missing something here?" she asked, determination
causing her to dig in her heels.
"Do you have suitcases?" he asked back, misunderstanding
the question, maybe on purpose.
"Oh, yes, I do." She unlocked the trunk.
He laughed as he looked down at the beat-up brown leather
duffel bag. "How'd you ever get that in this poor excuse
for a trunk?"
"You'd be surprised just how much this trunk can hold."
He nodded, grabbed the considerably heavy bag without even
a huff of breath, then tossed it in the back of his
truck. "Well, I guess that's it then."
"I guess so," she said as she rounded the truck to get in.
Once he was all settled behind the wheel, Summer stood at
her open door, glaring at him. "Except the part you're
leaving out."
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