I don’t know what I’m going to do or how I’m going to get my car fixed. There is no emergency money, or savings, and without a car, I can’t work. For the millionth time I curse myself—and Joey’s father—for agreeing to ridiculous terms instead of hiring a lawyer to fight for child support. Not that I can afford a lawyer but I could have paid him off a little at a time or something.
But I didn’t, so now I’m in an expensive, warm car with a really cute guy whom I genuinely hope isn’t a serial killer or something. I’m not overly worried about what happens to me—I can’t controlwhat other people do—but that would make Joey an orphan andthatscares me.
“I’m Serena, by the way,” I say, almost like it’s an afterthought.
Because it feels so comfortable. Like we already know each other. Which makes no sense.
“Nice to meet you,” he says.
“I can think of better ways to meet people than breaking down on the side of the road in a storm.”
“It’s going to be okay.” West’s voice is a deep baritone that warms me on the inside just as much as the outside. I like the timbre of it and his calm, gentle way of talking.
“If the daycare center kicks us out, it’s going to be a problem,” I murmur.
“Would they do that just because you’re late during an unprecedented snowstorm?”
“I don’t know. I hope not.”
“I don’t think anyone is going to work tomorrow,” he says.
“Winters in Atlanta are usually moderate,” I mutter. “But every few years we get some crap like this and it shuts us down. And it’s harder on some of us than others.”
“Yeah, I moved here last summer from L.A. so it’s taken some adjusting.”
“We’ll get snow and/or ice every few years, and the whole city shuts down. Flurries are a fun distraction for a day or two but when it hits hard, like it is now, we’re just not prepared.”
“I’m supposed to be at a charity event tonight—you probably guessed that from the tuxedo—but once I get you where you need to be, I’m going home. It’s just not safe.” He stares out at the snow that’s coming down pretty hard for the South.
“I’m sorry to delay you,” I say. “Really.”
“It’s fine—this the place?”
“Yes. Thank you. Do you think you could wait a second? I’ll be right back.”
He slows to a stop and I jump out of his SUV. I hate to impose on him any more than I have to, but I have no other way to get home so I’m going to swallow my pride and assume it’s a given he’ll get us there.
I hurry over to where Mrs. Carter and Joey are waiting. He has his Braves baseball cap and his baseball-themed backpack on, holding her hand. She looks pissed but I can’t help that.
“Thank you,” I tell her, taking Joey’s hand. “Can you add the late fee to my bill?”
She scowls but nods. “Yes. Be safe.”
“You too. Come on, Joey.” I hurry to the SUV and find West securing the car seat, like he’s done it before. As if it’s a foregone conclusion that he’s taking us home. The feminist in me is dying a little but Joey’s safety always takes precedence.
“Not your first car seat installation?” I ask with a chuckle.
He shakes his head. “Nope. My ex had a kid so I spent quite a bit of time moving car seats when we were dating.”
“I see.” I watch him secure it, test out how tightly it’s strapped in, and then turn to look down at Joey.
“I’m West,” he says. “What’s your name?”
“I’m Joey! Do you like baseball?”
West chuckles. “I do.”
“The Braves are the bestest!”