Jennifer Slattery - Restoring Her Faith

Fingers pressed to her temples, Faith focused on taking slow, even breaths. Her hands, still slick with sweat from her death grip on her steering wheel, trembled. That tire could’ve shattered her windshield, maybe even caused her to lose control of her vehicle.

“I’ll get some buddies out here to help lift your trailer.” Drake pulled a phone from his back pocket. “Let me make a few calls.”

“Me, too.” She held up the slip of paper on which he’d written his insurance information, and returned to her car. Fifteen minutes later, two trucks, both driven by cowboys, one wearing a straw hat, the other a tattered gray one, arrived.

The sheriff was coming, right? Maybe she should phone again? She’d give him ten more minutes.

Drake faced his “buddies,” as he called them. He tipped his hat as they sauntered over. “Hey. Thanks for coming. And for bringing my dad’s truck.”

The taller of the two, a guy with dark hair and dark eyes, offered her a brisk nod. “No problem. So long’s I’m back by the time they start cutting into the pies.” He chuckled and addressed Faith. “I hear you’re the gal hired on by the cultural committee.”

She looked at Drake, who appeared to be scrutinizing her, then back to his friends. “That’s me.”

“Well, now.” The guy clamped a hand on Drake’s shoulder. “This isn’t the best way to treat one of Sage Creek’s honored guests. It’s hotter than a midsummer fire pit today.”

Drake crouched beside the trailer. “You fellas ready?” His friends joined him, and after a few grunts and groans, they’d righted the thing.

“Thank you.” Holding her breath, she unlocked the dead bolt and slowly opened the double doors. She groaned and squeezed her eyes shut. At least three sheets of glass were fractured—three of her most expensive pieces.

“Oh, man.” Drake swiped a hand over his face. “I’ll take care of this. I’m so sorry.”

She needed to be at the job site first thing tomorrow morning, with less than a month to complete the project. With absolutely no wiggle room. Did Artisan’s Glass have any extra sheets on hand? If not, how soon would they be able to get some in?

They’d probably charge her the freight fee.

“Listen, I’ll—”

She raised a hand, then called her glass supplier. The phone rang half a dozen times. No answer. Lovely. She’d keep trying until she reached them.

The hum of an engine approached, then slowed. She glanced over her shoulder. The sheriff. Good. Hopefully this meant she’d soon be done here and recovering in her nice, air-conditioned hotel room.

Drake’s phone rang as she relayed the details of the accident to the officer. She paused to listen.

“I know, and I don’t blame you for that.” Drake rubbed the back of his neck. “But we’re kind of in a bind here.”

He explained what had happened. “Both our vehicles need to be towed. I’ll drive my dad’s truck until mine gets fixed. When do you think you could get out here?” He gave a low whistle. Lowering his phone, he turned to Faith. “My friend with the tow truck—today’s his day off.”

“And?”

“He said he’d come out, but it might be a while.”

“How long are you talking?”

“Didn’t say. I suspect after the church picnic.”

She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. Perfect. What was she supposed to do now? Call someone from Austin? That’d take hours.

“That glass that broke... I’m going to need to replace it.”

Drake nodded. “I’m sure my insurance company will cover it.”

“I mean ASAP. I’ll probably have to have it rush ordered.”

“Okay. I’ll make sure it’s taken care of.”

In other words, take him at his word. But what choice did she have? At least she had witnesses.

“Tell you what...” Drake’s dark-haired friend scratched his jaw. “I’ve got some thick cord in the back of my truck. Bet we could rig this vehicle to our trailer hitch and pull it into town.” He looked at Drake. “Leave Billy to tow yours whenever he gets to it. And you could pull her trailer with your pop’s truck.”

The officer clamped a hand on Drake’s shoulder. “Good thinking, boys.”

Faith bit her lip. Let a couple of strangers haul her car? But...they were friends with the town sheriff. And it was hot. Not to mention she was starving. And thirsty. “I, uh, I guess. But I’d like to grab my bike.”

The men’s eyes shifted to the top of her automobile, where her mountain bike remained secured, thankfully unharmed.

“No problem. I’ll load it in the bed of my dad’s truck.” Drake began unlatching the clamps on her top-mounted rack, his shoulder muscles straining beneath his cotton T-shirt.

The officer tore off a sheet of paper from a pad and handed it to Faith. A blank report form. “Fill this out.” He handed another page to Drake. “You, too.”

Drake shifted a few steps back to use her trunk as a writing table.

The officer followed. “How’s your dad doing?” He wiped the sweat off his forehead using his shirtsleeve. “Any talk of selling his place?”

“Nope. Not a lick.”

“People been pestering him, though?”

“Doesn’t matter. I have no intention of letting those land-hungry weasels wear my folks down.”

The officer studied Drake. “I admire you, boy. How hard you’re trying to save your parents’ ranch and all. Just be careful your stubbornness doesn’t land everyone in a mess they can’t get out of.”

A tendon in Drake’s jaw twitched. “That property’s been in our family for going on six generations. I intend to make sure that doesn’t change.”

Faith cleared her throat to interrupt their conversation, or perhaps remind them she was there. She handed her form to the officer.

“Y’all finished?” He closed his notepad and slid it into his front pocket.

His radio crackled, and he moved aside to answer. Sounded like another accident somewhere. “Ten-four. I’ll head there now.” He clipped his radio back on his shoulder mount, then turned to Drake. “Think you can give her a lift into town? There’s a fender-bender out on Harrison I got to attend to.”

“Sure. No problem.” He flicked his dark-haired friend’s arm. “Y’all can follow whenever you get this contraption secured.” Then he turned to Faith with a grin that made her stomach do an odd flip. For reasons she didn’t care to entertain. “Where you staying?”

“The Cedar View Inn, just outside of town.”

“Ah. Mr. Johnson’s place. Great guy. He’ll treat you good—best lodging within a forty-mile radius.”

Also known as the only hotel around. As to how nice the rooms were, she wasn’t holding her breath. Though her breathing did stall whenever the blue-eyed cowboy caught her gaze.

Not good. Not good at all.

Drake Owens glanced at the frazzled city girl, dressed like one of those granola types, sitting in the passenger’s seat beside him. Chestnut hair fell over her shoulders in long, loose waves. Gray eyes shadowed by deeply furrowed brows hinted that a spitfire lingered just below her polite smiles and thank-yous.

Pretty enough to jumble a man’s head, if he wasn’t careful. Drake never had that problem with the folks from Leaded Pane.

His phone rang. His headset answered. “Hey-lo.”

“You called?” It was Elizabeth, his sister.

“Just making sure y’all made it down to the lake all right,” Drake said. “That my rascally sons didn’t give you and Mom too much trouble.” At three and a half and six years old, those two could be quite a handful. His mom had always managed to keep them wrangled well enough...until Dad’s accident. Now she spent most of her time caring for him. Luckily, Drake’s sister had stepped in to help nanny, almost full-time. Otherwise he would’ve had to back out of the restoration project.