“I’ll pass. Thanks.”
They stared at each other for a moment, both smiling, and suddenly I felt as though I was intruding on something. Worried they might start mauling each other in front of me, there on the side of the road, I cleared my throat.
“Yeah,” I said. “I’m fine. Just a craptastic car. My friends are on the way.”
“See. She doesn’t want our help,” the girl said. “Let’s leave her alone. I’m freezing.”
“Does the heat work in your car?” Nathan asked me. “Do you want to wait in our car with us?”
“Oh, I don’t —”
“I was trying to convince her that we weren’t trying to kidnap her,” the girl said. “You’re not helping my case here.”
Nathan laughed. “Sorry. Whitley’s right. We aren’t trying to kidnap you.”
“Wait,” I said, looking at the brunette. And suddenly I realized why she looked so familiar. “Whitley? Whitley Johnson? You’re Greg Johnson’s daughter?”
Whitley stiffened a little. “Yeah.”
“Oh my God,” I said. “Okay, I swear, I’m not usually a squealing fangirl, but your father is amazing.”
“So I’ve been told.”
“He paid for my gas once.”
Whitley met this comment with the same lack of enthusiasm I had received from Ryder. She just gave a vague, placating smile, and I realized what an idiot I sounded like.
Nonetheless, I was suddenly way more willing to wait in their car until Bianca and Wesley arrived.
The three of us climbed into the Honda, me sliding into the backseat, and Nathan cranked up the heat. I listened with curiosity as he and Whitley talked about other things — school, plans for the weekend, some awkward family Christmas drama — only then remembering that these two were not only a couple but stepsiblings.
That had really gotten the rumor mill stirred up a few years ago, shortly after Greg Johnson moved to Hamilton. His daughter, Whitley, already had a reputation for being a party animal, but the gossip only got worse when she started dating her stepmother’s son. Talk around town had mostly faded after the two went off to college, but sometimes flared up again when Whitley and Nathan were back for school breaks.
This was my first time meeting either of them in person, and I was fascinated by how a relationship like that would work.
I also wondered if my love life was more or less screwed up than theirs.
Probably more.
“Are those your friends?” Nathan asked as a Porsche eased onto the side of the road, right behind Gert.
“Yeah,” I said, though I was mildly disappointed to be ejected from this riveting couple’s presence.
I hopped out of the Honda and saw Wesley and Bianca approaching. Whitley and Nathan spotted them, too, and to my surprise, they also climbed out of the car.
“Hey,” Nathan said, beaming.
“Hey.” Wesley grinned. “Long time no see.”
“You guys know each other?” I asked.
“Sort of,” Bianca said. She and Whitley gave each other a polite nod.
“Whitley here stole my best friend,” Wesley explained. “How is Harrison, anyway? I haven’t heard from him in ages.”
“That’s because he has a new boyfriend,” Whitley said. “He’s spending Christmas in Los Angeles with Antonio. I’d be mad at him for it, but they’re disgustingly cute together.”
“Good for him,” Wesley said. “Bianca and I were talking about going out to visit him if he doesn’t come home this summer.”
They kept talking until Bianca noticed me standing there shivering and cleared her throat.
“Well, we just came to pick up the stray.” She jabbed a thumb at me. “Thanks for keeping an eye on her.”
“I’m not a puppy,” I said.
“We discussed kidnapping her,” Whitley said. “Just so you know.”
“Glad you didn’t,” Wesley said. “Then I’d have to find my sister a new best friend, and those can take forever to housebreak.”
I rolled my eyes. “Ha-ha.”
Whitley and Nathan said good-bye and climbed into their car, then Wesley, Bianca, and I headed back over to Gert.
“So what’s the problem?” Bianca asked, tapping the hood.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “It stopped running. I’m hoping it’s just the battery. Do you guys have jumper cables?”
Wesley opened his mouth to answer, but Bianca just popped open the hood. “Let me take a look first. I have plenty of experience with crappy old cars.”
“Be my guest.”
She poked her head around inside while Wesley and I watched. After a second, she took a step back and slammed the hood shut.
“We’ll need to call a tow truck.”
I groaned. “What’s wrong with Gert?”
“Your alternator. The belt is totally just hanging there. It’ll need to be replaced.”
“The alternator,” Wesley said, nodding. “I mean, obviously.”
Bianca rolled her eyes. “For someone with such a nice car, you know so little about them.”
“How much is that going to cost me?” I asked.
“Hard to say,” Bianca admitted. “If it’s just the belt, it won’t be that bad. If it’s the actual alternator … a little more.”
“More that I don’t have,” I muttered. “And I don’t get paid until next week.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Wesley said. “I’ll take care of it.”
“I can’t let you do that,” I said. “Or your parents. You guys have already done way too much for me.”
“Don’t be silly,” he said. “We don’t mind.”
“But I do,” I argued.
Bianca put an understanding hand on my shoulder. “Maybe you could consider it a loan, then,” she said. “To be paid back when you can.”
I still wasn’t thrilled about this, but it wasn’t as if there were a ton of options. So, reluctantly, I nodded.
“Deal,” Wesley said. “I’ll even charge interest if you like.”
“Let’s negotiate that in the car. Where it’s warm,” Bianca suggested.
It took about twenty minutes for the tow truck to arrive, and by then, I was super late for work. Poor Gert and her broken alternator were hauled off, and I silently promised her I’d come to rescue her soon.
“So where were you headed?” Wesley asked as he steered the Porsche back onto the highway.
“The mall,” I said, checking the time. “My shift started half an hour ago. My boss will be so pissed. And now I have no way to get home after …”
“We can come pick you up,” Bianca said.
“You don’t have to do that,” I said.
“Of course we do,” Wesley said. “You don’t think we’d leave you stranded, do you? Just give me a call when your shift ends.”
“Thank you,” I said. “Really.”
Wesley smiled at me in the rearview mirror. “Anytime.”
Chapter 17
Well, this was some serious déjà vu.
“Sheila, come on,” I begged. “I told you. My car broke down. I had to wait for the tow truck.”
“You could have called,” she said.
“I tried,” I said. “No one answered.”
“Why didn’t you try again?”
Fair question.
“We had to call someone else to cover your shift,” she said. “The day after Christmas is always busy, and you weren’t here.”
“I told you. My car —”
“You always have an excuse,” she said.
To be fair, the excuses about Gert had been true. I’d had more problems with her lately than usual. I seriously needed a new car. But that required money. Which required a job. Which Gert was making it incredibly hard to hold on to.
Well, Gert, and my hatred of the holidays.
“Look,” Sheila said as she rearranged a few picture books that had been tossed around by some kids a few minutes before. I was following her around the store like a pathetic, lost dog. “You were seasonal anyway. We were probably going to be laying you off in two weeks as it is.”