Driving Miss Darcy Read online

  Honestly I thought polar vortex was some kind of Star Trek thing. But I digress.

  “So, when you say all flights grounded, does that pertain to flights going to a warmer climate?”

  She exhaled a heavy, punctuated breath. It was a statement in itself, pretty much declaring my idiocy. I was okay with that as long as my questions were answered. She held up her hand and began ticking my options off on her fingers.

  “You can accept the hotel and food voucher and wait out the storm.”

  Tick.

  “You can catch the charter bus tomorrow morning into Chicago.”

  Tick.

  “Or...you can try to rent a car.

  Tick

  “But...” The but was accentuated with a scary plosive consonant accompanied by a spray of spit. “...they only keep eight cars in the fleet.”

  I bolted. Yes, I thanked the lady, but I was running so fast she probably didn’t hear me. Eight cars in the fleet. Total? Or eight of each kind? I hoped and prayed I wasn’t too late. In retrospect I should have asked where the rental car place was but really, Fort Dodge Municipal Airport, Iowa was more like a library than a transport center. My brother’s house was bigger which kind of wan’t a fair comparison because Pemberley was crazy huge.

  I wondered as I ran through the carpeted corridors, past Native American wall art, past a life-size plaster statue of a moose, past a museum exhibit of the early aviators, how my day took such a wild turn. At this moment I should have been boarding my second flight to L.A. with a steamy peppermint latte acquired at the Chicago airport Starbucks. I’d be taking my seat, settling in for a lazy five hours in the air before I got to see my brother and his fiancé. Before arriving home for Christmas. And instead I was rushing through a sad little airport to get one of eight rental cars before people wit working phones could snatch them up in the app.

  What kind of lunacy was this? First thing first. Rent a car. Then buy a burner phone to call Will. Then...drive to a working airport? I couldn’t think that far ahead without my caffeine.

  I found the line to the Cheap and Cheerful Car Rental before the blaring yellow sign came into view. There definitely was nothing cheerful about that line. Also, even if the travelers waiting not-so-patiently were four to a party, eight cars wouldn’t be enough to accommodate all those people. My chances of getting out of this place were getting dimmer than the fluorescent lights on the tile ceiling. In my desperation I thought to myself, “Surely one of these nice souls would have room for one more.” Then I thought about how my brother would react and tamped that down before the imaginary voice in my head could yell, “Stranger danger.” A business man in an important looking suit glared angrily at his expensive looking watch then shot laser beams toward the front of the line where the clerk attended to a customer. Said customer was most assuredly thinking to himself. “Too bad, suckers. I got here first. Enjoy your lumpy oatmeal tomorrow morning.”

  Or maybe it was a sweet elderly lady taking the last car so she could see her grandchildren for the holidays. I had to know who to direct my ire towards. So I followed the important business man’s gaze until my vision landed on the lucky jerk renting one of the last cars. Dog Man.

  Seriously, my day couldn’t have gotten any weirder. There he was, fumbling through his stuff, dropping all the contents of his wallet onto the counter. The cashier shook her head and said something I only caught the tail end of as I drew closer.

  “...can’t accept cash. Credit cards only.” She shrugged as though she couldn’t care less and for a split second I felt sorry for Dog Man. Nobody should have to endure the indifference of a tired rental car clerk. Not three days before Christmas. Then I remembered his indifference about my broken phone and a small part of me—the vindictive part—rejoiced at his plight. He looked so pathetic in those jeans that were too worn to be fashionable and a pair of extremely insensible Converse All Stars—also run down. Did this guy not know how to dress for the snow? Reeses’ little snout peeked out of the bag on the floor and I only had time to note the flash in his eyes upon spotting me before he unzipped the bag with the force of his body. Yes—unzipped the bag. He bounded to me and jumped so fast, I could only open up my arms to catch him. That took a lot of faith on his part. I could have let him tumble to the floor for all her knew. Instead I found myself with an arm full of energetic Jack Russell Terrier and a face full of doggy kisses. Why me? Was this his secret ploy to get away from his current human? I thought only cats did that.

  “Give me ten seconds,” Dog Man begged the cashier.

  “You got five,” she said impatiently.

  I was halfway to the counter by the time Mr. Attention Seeker reached me.

  “You again,” he snarled.”

  “Can I help it if Reeses likes me better than you?”

  “Just give me my dog.”

  “Ooh,” I chirped. “Do I sense a hint of jealousy?

  Something in his features shifted, as though I’d hit a nerve and he narrowed his stare into slits, stepping into my personal space. I could smell the prickly annoyance on him...and I kind of liked it. His face was so close to mine I could bite his nose if I were so inclined. Reeses’ doggy ways were beginning to rub off on me.

  “Don’t flatter yourself, princess. He's just hoping for some caviar to drip from your entitled chin.”

  “Okay, first of all...ew, and second—”

  “Excuse me. Can you two love birds hurry it up?” The guy next in line waved his arms around.

  Love birds?

  “Sir,” the cashier called to Dog Man. “Does your wife have a credit card?”

  Ping! I had a lightbulb moment. One my over-protective brother would certainly not approve. Dog Man saw it in my eyes and wildly shook his head.

  “Oh, no. Nope. She's not my wife.” He slipped back to the counter. I still had Reeses.

  “Listen, I’ve got a hundred twenty-eight fifty. That’s more than enough for the rental to California.” He practically threw all his cash at the clerk. His hands were shaking. This guy had some serious issues.

  “Even if we did accept cash, and we don’t, that will only afford you one day’s rental.” The clerk was smiling but I could see the condescending frown under the surface. “Now please. Step aside.”

  I really couldn’t explain what came over me in that moment. Perhaps it was sheer desperation to the point of complete loss of common sense. I didn’t know anything about Dog Man other than a superficial assessment of his appearance—however easy on the eyes said appearance was.

  “Actually, he’s telling the truth.” I shot Dog Man a just follow my lead sideways glance. His brows scrunched together. I continued as if I didn’t notice. “I’m not his wife. Yet.” I extended my left hand to proudly display the cubic zirconia ring my brother made me wear to fend off would-be suitors. I wasn’t kidding about the over-protective bit. “We haven’t told my parents yet. We’re on our way to California to surprise them. Reeses here helped with the proposal. Didn’t you, boy?”

  A collective awww came from all the females within hearing distance and I nuzzled Reeses to drive it home. Good crowd.

  “What are you doing?” Dog Man hissed.

  “I’m sorry Homer. I forgot you get embarrassed easily.” I planted Reeses right in Dog Man’s chest.

  “My name is not Homer.” He glared at me with a heat so intense his chocolate eyes almost turned to ganache. I waved it off to explain to the clerk.

  “Oh, I just nicknamed him Homer Simpson because he loves ‘dem donuts.” I pinched the sweater bulging around Dog Man’s waist.

  “That’s adorable. Do you have a credit card or not?” Such a ball of sunshine, that lady.

  “American Express okay?”

  My new fake fiancé’s eyes went round as I handed the cashier my Platinum card. Sunshine Lady snapped it from my fingers and ran it through the computer at the other end of the counter.

  “That was my rental car,” Dog Man spat. “You can’t just cut in line and ste
al people’s rental cars.”

  “Cut in line? Are you in fifth grade? Anyway, I’m not stealing your rental. See that man?” I inclined my head to a rather large man with a comb over who was next in line. “For the record, I’m stealing his rental because Sunshine Lady over there wasn’t giving you any breaks.”

  “I almost had her.”

  “No you didn’t.”

  The clerk called me over to finish the transaction so I could go over the rental agreement on a touch screen. Dog Man stormed next to me while I happily checked off all the boxes.

  “If it wasn’t for Reeses you’d be in the back of the line, princess.”

  “If it wasn’t for Reeses, my phone would be working. So I think we’re even.”

  I tapped away at the screen. Rental insurance? Check.

  “May I see your ID sir?” the clerk asked Dog Man.

  “What? Why?”

  She huffed and did that eye roll thing she was so good at. I wondered if that was a job requirement. “If you plan on doing any of the driving, I’ll need your ID.”

  “Of course he’s driving,” I said. “I hate to drive.” That wasn’t exactly true. I loved the freedom of driving where I wanted to go when I wanted. What I couldn’t stand was being chauffeured around in a town car when I was in high school. All my friends had sweet rides—convertibles and stuff—but my famous brother had me on a short leash. It was for my protection but still...

  “I err... yeah.” Dog Man set Reeses back in the case and slipped his license out of his wallet. Sunshine Lady volleyed her eyes between us and chuckled.

  “What?” Dog Man and I said in unison.

  “You fight like an old married couple,” she said, running Dog Man’s ID through the reader. “I can always tell the ones who are gonna make it.”

  We must have had the most ridiculous expressions on our faces as she handed Dog Man his ID. Her tone was almost robotic as she said, “Congratulations on your engagement.”

  Yep. Weirdest day ever.

  CHAPTER FOUR - WYATT

  That was a weird turn of events. Not twenty-four hours since I got an exclusive leak from my contact in Los Angeles and next thing I know I was on a plane to chase the story. This could be my big break if I could just get there on time. Now I was sharing a ride in rural Iowa with the prettiest girl I’ve ever met. Spunky and infuriating, yes. But pretty. A no make-up kind of beautiful with a natural pink to her cheeks and honey locks framing her face. And I had no business looking at her like that. Plus that engagement ring on her finger cost more than I’d make in a year. Definitely too much trouble.

  She spent the first twenty minutes looking out the window without uttering a word to me. The silence drove me crazy. So I cranked the radio. She immediately shut it off and crossed her arms.

  Alrighty then.

  When she finally spoke, I couldn’t decide if I was relieved or disappointed she broke the silence.

  “I need a burner phone.”

  “Okay. Next stop, I guess.”

  “Good.”

  I continued down the highway, careful to keep my eyes on the road but every few minutes I stole a glance her way—just to see the back of her head, I supposed. Reeses was happy at least, fast asleep on her feet.

  “You can use my phone if you want to call whoever was supposed to pick you up at LAX,” I offered.

  She kind of bristled at the suggestion, as if my cheap Metro phone wasn’t good enough for her.

  “Nope. It can wait.”

  More silence. More staring out the window. I wanted to point out to her the weather wasn’t my fault—even though she acted like the planes were all grounded because of some evil plan I’d devised. But I settled for civility, reminding myself it was her who got us this car and I’d have to pay her back somehow.

  “I suppose I should probably thank you for your unorthodox improv skills back there.”

  She looked at me for a second and then turned back to the window.

  “So...Reeses and I thank you. I’ll pay my share of the rental once I get paid from my gig in L.A. And for your phone, too.”

  That caught her attention. “Gig? You an actor?’

  “No way.”

  “Musician?”

  “Nope.” I was a little embarrassed to say, so I went with vague. “I’m a writer.”

  She snorted. “Screenwriter.”

  I wished. But no.

  “Actually, I’m a journalist. Working on a big story.”

  “Oh? What’s the story?”

  “That’s top secret, I’m afraid.”

  She repressed a grin. “Okay, Clark Kent.”

  “Clark Kent, huh?”

  “Yeah. You’ve got that Clark Kent vibe going on. But without the glasses.” She swished her fingers around in little circles in my direction.

  “So...Superman, then.” I wagged my brows.

  “Ha. Dream on. Not the looks. Just the fumbling nerdy part.”

  I had to agree with her on that. But I owned it, so it was okay.

  “So do you have a name?” she asked, shifting in her seat to face me better. “Or do I have to continue calling you Dog Man?”

  I almost spit out my morning coffee which would have been really something since I’d consumed that hours ago.

  “Dog Man? Hmmm. That’s kind of charming. I think I’ll stick with that.”

  She huffed. “Fine.”

  I half-laughed. Daddy’s little princess liked to pout when she didn’t get her way. I considered for a brief moment to let her call me Dog Man for the rest of the ride. But I realized the flaw in that. Besides, I didn’t know her name either and calling her princess wasn’t going to go over well. I was too busy being angry and dazzled by her at the airport to notice when she signed her name. And the rental agreement was in the glove box. What was it about this girl?

  “I’m just kidding,” I said. “I’m Wyatt.”

  She raked her eyes over me in open assessment.

  “Hmmm. I guess.”

  “You guess? It’s not like I’m giving you a fake name.”

  “You could be.”

  My fingers gripped tighter around the steering wheel. “Why would I do that?”

  “Because you’re a reporter on a top-secret assignment.”

  Cute. Wild imagination. Maybe a tad delusional.

  “You can check the rental agreement in the glove box.”

  “Nah. I’m good.”

  “All right. Believe me, don’t believe me. I don’t care.” Then why did it bother me so much? “What’s your name, then?”

  She hesitated. Maybe thinking up something outrageous. “Georgia.”

  “Okay, Georgia. When we make the next stop we’ll exchange IDs and see which one of us is lying.”

  “NO!” she blurted.

  Interesting.

  “I mean...I don’t like my picture,” she quickly added.

  So she was vain too. Funny, I didn’t have her pegged as vain with that fresh, glowing face. Spoilt and entitled, sure. But not vain. A ping a disappointment shot through me. And why did it matter anyway?

  A length of silence descended upon us while we drove down that rural road for the next couple of hours. There was nothing but snow for miles in every direction. I checked the indicators. Almost a full tank of gas. Thank goodness for tiny cars.

  We were both flustered and bristled when they’d pulled the Chevy Spark around for us. Georgia’s snubby reaction to the tiny economy car was priceless. She stormed into the passenger seat and slammed the door. I was more than happy to ‘not so gently’ toss her carry-on in the trunk and I sped off without inputting a destination in the GPS. I followed the signs Southbound, just wanting to literally get out of Dodge. I figured we could find a more suitable place down the road to go over our travel plans from here on out. But there was nothing. Absolutely nothing but the occasional farm house. I was fairly certain we were on a major highway.

  Hungry for some snacks, I reached behind my seat for my backpack, only swervi
ng slightly. She flipped out.

  “Oh my—sheesh! Are you trying to kill us?”

  “Calm down, woman. It was your idea to make me drive.”

  “Yeah, because I’ve never driven on icy roads. I thought you’d know how not to plow into a snow bank.”

  Reeses raised his little head and perked up his ears. He volleyed his face toward me, then Georgia, then back to me again and barked once.

  “See?” said Georgia. “Your dog agrees with me.”

  “Nah. He has to do his business. That’s his ‘I need to pee’ bark.”

  I eventually found a turnout—a spot just off the road where it would be safe to let Reeses out so he could roam around. It was a scenic spot overlooking a lake, now frozen over with ice and snow. A few lonely picnic benches caked in several inches of snow sat just beyond the parking lot. This lake side rest area was a scenic place even covered in white. I could imagine how beautiful it would be in warmer weather.

  “Just open your door and he’ll jump out,” I said. “I’m going to take some pictures.”

  I scooped up my backpack and slipped outside into the frigid air. The parking lot was icy and a little slippery under my Converse All Stars.

  I heard Georgia shriek in response to the cold before snapping the door shut after letting Reeses out. My little dog hopped along, bouncy as ever, bolting from one spot to another to leave his mark. Animal kingdom, Reeses the dog was here. He was in his element. Really, anywhere he could exert some of that pent-up energy was his element.

  I reached in my bag for my most prized possession—the Nikon 8008s I scrimped and saved for and finally purchased when Costco had a sale. It was the only thing of value I owned. I snapped a few shots of the snowy scenery of the frozen lake, the frosty trees. Beautiful. I could sell these photos on Shutterstock. Put my associates degree in photography to good use.

  Fifteen minutes passed by. I had some great images. Reeses was still merrily peeing on everything in sight. I heard Georgia call out.

  “Can you believe this car has crank windows? Crank!”

  “Well roll it back up before you freeze,” I cried back.

  “I’m already frozen in here without the heater. Can you hurry it up?” She’d put her knit cap back on, strands of hair poking out from underneath. Half her upper body leaned outside the window like Reeses sometimes did on summer truck rides back home. With the fluffy lining of her hooded coat and her gloved hands, she looked just as snuggly and soft.