Jess was right. He needed competition, and she was going to give him some. The flirty banter between them back at the Coldiron house left her flushed and excited. With her window down, she cranked up the radio, and bellowed out the upbeat tune with untalented enthusiasm. At the end of the gravel drive, she felt the truck lurch and sputter. “Damn, what now?” Two days ago, Old Blue belched up a gallon of water and gave up the ghost, leaving her stuck driving her grandma’s old rusted out Chevy. She guided the dead truck off the road, pushed the brake until it stopped, and shoved it into park. She pecked at the gas gauge and watched the orange hand fall to E. “Great. Now what am I going to do?” She stuffed her dress into her purse and open the door. “What else can go wrong?” she asked as she slammed it. It looked like she was walking the mile to her house. She kicked a rock and sent it flying across the road. “Ouch!” Worn in all the right places, her favorite pair of Ariat boots did little to protect her feet, but she didn’t care.
