around, heading back toward the black car and the woman who may not need or want my help.
Her head comes up as I get closer, her brown hair flowing in the soft, humid breeze that does nothing more than blow the hot air around, making it cling to your skin.
She straightens her back, hopping down from the hood, her body going rigid and on high alert. If I could describe someone as a deer in headlights, it would be her.
Rolling to a stop, I cut the engine and remove my helmet. Her eyes meet mine, green and big, emanating fear.
“Need help?” I ask, running my hands through my hair.
“Um,” she mutters, blinking. “I don’t think so.”
I tilt my head, straddling the seat. “You don’t think so?” I repeat her words back to her, confused.
“Well, I mean…” She glances down, kicking at the gravel below her shoes. “I think it’s overheated. It’ll be fine in a few minutes.”
There’s something familiar about her, but I can’t place it. Maybe she’s a friend of a friend or someone I’ve seen around our small town.
“How long have you been out here?”
“A little while,” she answers, being evasive.
“I won’t hurt you.”
“Okay,” she whispers, but she’s holding her keys in her fist, a move I’ve seen many women make when taking a defensive stance. “But I’m really fine.”
“Want me to take a look?”
She shrugs, barely looking at me, almost hiding her face. “No. I’m okay. You can go.”
I sit there, stunned and staring. “I can go?”
“Yeah. You can go. I got this.”
“I can’t leave if you need help.”
“I’m fine,” she argues. “I don’t need help.”
“We all need help sometimes, and I can’t leave you out here in this heat all by yourself and just go about my night.”
“You can. You totally can. I’ll get by. I always do.”
“I can’t leave you here alone.”
“I’ve been alone my whole life, but I appreciate your checking on me.”
Her words strike me as odd. The same words I heard from the pretty girl on New Year’s Eve. Words that have never left me, along with the sadness that hung from her lips.
“Do I know you?”
She shakes her head but doesn’t look my way, staring down and shielding her face from my view.
“We’ve met before. Haven’t we?”
The woman is beautiful, totally a face I’d never forget, but for the life of me, I can’t place her. One thing I know is I never forget a face, especially one as pretty as hers.
She stares at me for a minute, studying my face before her eyes widen again. “Wait. I think… No way. That’s so weird,” she says, tilting her head, still soaking in the wonderfulness that’s me. “I think we met on New Year’s Eve.”
Ding. Ding. Ding. She is her. The woman I met who was pinned against the bar by the sleazy bastard, the one who ran out without even tasting the French fries or waiting for me to walk her to her car.
“Arlo,” I whisper.
She blinks. “You remember my name?” she whispers, touching the scoop neck of her tank top, fiddling with the material.
“I do, babe.” I smirk, unable to forget it after that night. “You ran out of the bar so fast, I thought your ass was on fire.”
Her cheeks turn pink again. “I’m a little awkward sometimes. I don’t people well.”
“I don’t think I people well either.”
“You saved my butt that night. I’ll always be grateful for that.”
“Looks like I’m about to do it again.” I climb off the bike and move in her direction. “Now, are you going to tell me what’s wrong with the car, or do I have to guess?”
She throws her arm out toward her car. “Front tire is flat, but I can’t get it off. I’ve changed tires before, too many more times than I’d care to admit, but this one won’t budge.” She starts pacing in front of the car. “I don’t know why I can’t get it off, but I can’t, and I think I’m about to lose my shit. I was just sitting here, trying to figure out my next move, which also included taking a sledgehammer to this piece-of-shit car instead of calling for a tow. But then I couldn’t trade it in for a new car, so I scrapped that idea about thirty seconds before you rolled on by.”
I stare at her, listening to her ramble on about the car, the tire, her decisions, and honestly, I’m dizzy. The girl had barely spoken to me before and had