Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 145231 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 726(@200wpm)___ 581(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145231 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 726(@200wpm)___ 581(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
But it is cooling off in here way too fast.
We can’t sit here for hours hoping help shows up.
I’m going to be sick.
Kayla could help us in a pinch, if she’s sober tonight. Even if she’s not, all she’d have to do is snap her fingers and someone would send a tow truck over, probably faster considering who her daddy is.
Landing me in moral debt for life.
But I never bothered replying to her latest message earlier, hounding me about when she can drop by for an intro to the magnificent Patton Rory.
It’s the worst time for jealousy, but my brain doesn’t care.
I hate her dating life.
Almost as much as I hate that I’m still in debt to her forever over this damn job.
Wait. This job.
Higher Ends has a commercial snow removal crew for clearing out their properties, doesn’t it?
My stomach knots.
I hate asking anyone for special treatment, buuuut…
Surely, I’m allowed to use one company perk. And it wouldn’t land me in a vicious cycle of obligation like asking Kayla would. I’m not sure she knows what friendship means if it isn’t transactional.
I grab my phone and start typing.
Hey, it’s Salem. We had an accident. We’re a little stuck in the storm and the tow places are buried in work tonight. Any chance you could hook a girl up with one of the company guys? Just to dig us out and get a ride.
Sighing, I hit send on Patton’s contact.
“We’ll be fine,” I tell Arlo cheerfully. “We’ll be home soon.”
“Good! I’m freezing. Brrrrrr!”
I don’t dare switch on the engine again when something’s leaking oil, so I just shrug off my coat and pass it back to him. “Keep that over your legs, Arlo. You’ll be warmer.”
While he babbles about the mysteries of airflow like only a child can, I hear another car squealing down the street, struggling with the ice.
Oh, what a night.
Then my phone lights up with an incoming call.
Patton.
No surprise, he probably wants more details.
“What do you mean you’re stuck?” he growls, the second I answer, not even waiting for me to say hi. “What happened? Are you okay? Is Arlo with you?”
“We’re… we’re fine, yeah. It was a fender bender thing. Just knocked us off the street into a stop sign.” It also scared the living crap out of me, but there are some things you don’t say to your antihero boss. “We just need a ride home while I sort out a tow. We’re kinda stranded.”
“Where are you?” He’s so gruff it sends a chill down my spine that has nothing to do with the cold.
I check my phone for the nearest point on the maps and rattle off a couple street names, an intersection with the stop sign we hit.
“Stay where you are. Keep inside the car if it’s safe. It’s fucking nasty out there. I’ll be there soon.”
“Wait, what? I just wanted one of the snow removal places. You don’t have to—”
“Salem, I’m coming. Give me ten or fifteen.” There’s an edge in his voice I can’t argue with.
Before I put up a fight or even think to thank him through the giddy tears blinding me, he ends the call, leaving me staring at my lap.
“Was that Mr. Rory?” Arlo asks excitedly.
I think we’ve moved on from Grumpybutt. I don’t know if that’s a relief or a pity. I just know there’s a lead weight in my gut.
“That’s him. He’s coming to help us out tonight.” My voice quivers a little.
I’m feeling things I don’t even know how to describe.
“I knew it!” Arlo says it with a five-year-old smugness that gives me a shaky smile. “He knows so much about superheroes because he is one.”
Kid logic.
He’s also your father. But I keep that wild fact to myself.
I just try to calm my nerves and settle so I’m not a weepy, flustered mess by the time he gets here.
With Arlo still chattering away about debating comic book story arcs with Patton, I wrap my arms around my shoulders and try to stay warm.
It takes Patton twenty long, agonizing minutes to arrive.
I keep one eye on my phone for the time, fending off Arlo’s endless hangry questions. Eventually, a familiar black SUV pulls up alongside us.
Patton swings out, dressed in a thick winter coat and jeans. Jeans.
I must have disturbed him from unwinding at home. It’s a relief to know he doesn’t sleep in a suit, hardass that he is.
“You’re a lifesaver,” I say as I get out of the car. Outside, it’s even colder than I remember, and I try to keep my teeth from chattering. “We really appreciate you coming out in this mess.”
He sucks in a breath as he sees the damage to the front of my car.
“That’s an ugly scrape. I called a guy I know to see if he can speed up a tow.” He looks me up and down. “And where the hell is your coat?”