Power Drilled (Roommates, #8)(4)

Obviously, I had to do something, but for the moment, I just sat there in the dark. It was quiet—a rarity in this part of the state. A car went by every minute or so, but mostly it was dark and strangely peaceful. Except for the fact that I was stranded, it actually wasn’t that unpleasant.

I focused on what sounds I could hear. Cars on a distant highway. An owl hooting softly. Some kind of chirping—crickets or frogs or something. And then the sound of a car on the road behind me.

I flinched as the headlights swept over my dashboard, waiting for it to pass, but it didn’t. Instead, it slowed down.

I glanced in the rearview mirror when it pulled onto the shoulder behind me. Was it a police officer? Or, hopefully, a passing tow truck? Not that I knew where I’d find the money to pay for that. But with the headlines shining brightly, I couldn’t see a damn thing. But I did hear the car door slam shut and footsteps crunching on the gravel.

Fear flooded my mind, like it would pretty much any other woman in this situation. Gone were the days where people could just assume a stranger meant no harm. I rolled down the window just a crack and edged away from it as much as I could.

“Need some help?” The figure’s jeans and button-down shirt were unfamiliar, but his voice wasn’t. I leaned toward the window at the same time he bent down to get a better look. “Penny?”

My heart gave a weird and worrying flip-flop as I stared at the handsome face.

It was Jackson.

An absurd and out-of-place thrill filled me that he’d remembered my name. But that made it harder to find my voice. “What are you doing here?”

“Trying to drive home, as I assume you were. What happened?”

“The engine died,” I said, still shocked that he was here, standing outside my window. “It’s kind of old.”

Even in the dark, he could probably see that, but he was too diplomatic to say so. “Have you called for a tow truck?”

“I was going to try to get a ride home and get it towed in the morning.”

He leaned down further. “Can you lower your window? I can barely hear you.”

I lowered it by a couple of inches. Then I repeated what I’d said.

Jackson nodded. “You could do that, but there’s a chance it could get hit between now and then. Your back tire is partly on the edge of the road.” He was silent for a moment. “If you put it in neutral, I can try to push it.”

The last thing I wanted to do was risk him straining any of his amazing muscles, but it was nice that he offered. “I have roadside assistance,” I said, realizing I should’ve thought of them first. “Will they come at night?” I didn’t drive much at night, so my breakdowns usually happened during the day.

“Absolutely. At least the bigger companies will.”

“Mine’s through my car insurance.” My parents paid for that, so that was one bill that still got paid on time every month.

“Why don’t you give them a call?”

“Okay.”

As I fished my insurance card out of my purse, I felt a thump against the side of the car and realized that Jackson was leaning against it. For some reason, it was reassuring that he wasn’t going to leave until I spoke with my insurance company.

Surprisingly, it didn’t take too long for them to get all my information and contact a tow company. I rolled down the window the rest of the way and leaned my head out. “They’ll be here within an hour.”

“That’s good.” Jackson crouched down next to the door, and suddenly we were face-to-face. Even without much light, he looked drop-dead gorgeous. The goatee made him look a bit wild and dangerous, but the more I talked to him, the nicer he seemed. “Can I give you a lift home?”

“I have to wait for them.”

“Why? You can just leave the key under the floor mat and let them know.”

My response was instantaneous. “But what if someone steals it?”

So was Jackson’s. “Steals this car?”

All right, he had a point. No one in their right mind would want my car. But still… it didn’t feel right just leaving it here. And getting in a car with a strange man was never a good idea, no matter how nice he seemed. “Thanks, but I’ll wait.”

“I will, too, then.”

I blinked in surprise. “Why?”

“Carl’s my friend. You’re his student. That makes us friends by proxy.”

My forehead wrinkled as I thought about that. “Two degrees of separation?”

“Something like that.” He paused and I could hear the owl again. “Want me to call him? He’d probably come out and wait with us.”

“No, thanks,” I said quickly. I didn’t know exactly which suburb my art teacher lived in, but I’d noticed him heading off in the opposite direction after class a few times. “Why would you call him?”

“You seem a bit nervous around me,” Jackson said.

A little laugh escaped me. “What was your first clue?” Probably the way my face had been beet red for the entire time I was sketching him.

Now it was his turn to chuckle. “I don’t mean back in the art room. I mean right here, right now. And I get it—a woman alone at night has to be careful. But I am a friend of a friend.”

“A friend of a teacher.”