I gnawed on my bottom lip and squeezed my eyes shut when a semitruck sidled beside my SUV, rattling the windows and reverberating through my skull.
Oh, wow. This was a recipe for mental disaster. I was a sitting duck with an overactive imagination. I had to do something. I googled “roadside safety” with shaky fingers and read through a list of things I’d already done. Pull over, check. Call for help, check. Emergency brake, check. Hazard lights—where the fuck are the hazard lights?
I couldn’t find the button on the dashboard, so I twisted to see if it was under the steering wheel. No. I jolted in fright when a motorcycle whizzed by, and smacked the side of my head. Hard. On a positive note, I found the hazard-light indicator. I pushed it and moved on to the next task from the online list…setting up flares.
My parents were big on emergency preparation. I had two or more first aid kits, so there was a good chance I had flares. No, I didn’t know how to use them, but I’d figure it out. I was smart.
Said the guy who’d exited his vehicle into oncoming traffic.
A horn blasted a warning just as a small car veered left to avoid clipping the driver’s side door. I shut it quickly, plastering myself to the SUV with my arms spread wide as if I were on a narrow window ledge high above a city.
Oh geez, I was closer to the actual road than I’d thought. My heart pounded as I inched my way to safety, rounding the rear of the vehicle before scrambling up the hillside…where I promptly tripped on a low-lying shrub and tore the edge of my cape on a scrappy bit of tumbleweed.
Which, of course, was when Aiden showed up.
I swallowed what was left of my pride and waved as he pulled his tow truck behind my SUV. Then I stepped forward, slid down the gravelly incline, and landed flat on my ass.
Aiden boomed a hearty laugh and offered me his hand.
“Well, well, well…funny bumpin’ into you on this fine evening. How’s it goin’, Murphy?”
“I’ve been better. Potentially losing life and limb in the midst of rush hour traffic isn’t my idea of fun.”
“I feel ya, man. What happened here?”
I gestured toward the SUV as I scrambled to my feet. “My…Willy conked out.”
“Sounds like a personal problem,” he snarked, arching a brow.
I smiled at the lame joke. Okay, so maybe Aiden Baker hadn’t been my first responder of choice, but he was solid and familiar, and I was really fucking happy to see him.
I’d known Aiden for half of my life. At least.
Aiden was one of Simon’s best friends from junior high and high school. They’d played football together since they were twelve or younger. Funny enough, Aiden had also played baseball with our oldest brother, Ben.
He’d been a permanent fixture in our house during my teen years. I’d never thought twice about his presence at the dinner table. And it had only occasionally bugged me when he raided the refrigerator and stole my favorite flavor of yogurt.
It had been pointless to call him on it. The one time I had, he’d made a show of licking the top, then sticking his tongue into the container before handing it over. Asshole. Yep, Aiden was king of all things gross. But he was funny about it, and those were the guys who got away with everything.
My normally strict mom had a soft spot for him. In fact, my parents welcomed him with open arms. They tended to take in strays from unstable homes, and Aiden had fit that bill to a tee. His own parents had issues with alcohol and apparently, his home life was rough.
Not that Aiden complained. He was happy-go-lucky and easygoing to an extreme. Nothing seemed to faze him. It didn’t matter how many times he got the wind knocked out of him on the field or in real life…he just dusted himself off and kept going.
I admired that trait, but my favorite thing about him was his sense of humor. And if there was one person who could find something amusing about being stranded on the freeway at rush hour, it was Aiden.
I took his hand when he reached out to steady me.
“Thank you, I—ouch.”
I winced at the feel of his rough paw against my fresh wound. Aiden held my wrist firmly in a wordless command for me to show him my boo-boo.
He let out a low whistle when I uncurled my fingers, exposing my scraped palm. “Did you decide to go rock climbing while you waited for me?”
“Something like that. I’m fine.”
“Let’s find you some antibiotic ointment. I’ll get the first aid kit from my truck and—”
“My hand is the least of my worries, Aiden. We have to get out of here before we become roadkill.”