by Leah Atwood
On the way home to Seligman, he listened to his favorite Christian rock band with the windows rolled down. The dry Arizona air breezed through the truck, mussing his short brown locks. He didn’t care since his next stop was home—good thing since he’d dropped ketchup on his shirt back in the diner.
A full chortle escaped when he glanced down at the red spot on his shirt. It wasn’t all that funny, but after the day he’d had, all he could do was laugh. At least it happened after he’d gone to the bank. He didn’t spend an exorbitant amount of time getting ready in the mornings, but he believed in a professional appearance when the situation called for it and not leaving the house looking like a slob.
Blinking hazard lights far in the distance stole his attention. In the dark, on a stretch of road flatter than a pancake, he couldn’t tell exactly how far away the vehicle was. Probably a flat tire. He’d had his share of them over the years.
As he drove closer to the vehicle, he slowed down. He wasn’t in the habit of stopping for strangers, but this stretch of road rarely had cell service and saw it’s share of stranded motorists. Once close enough to see the vehicle in detail, he noted the North Carolina license plates but didn’t see anyone outside of the vehicle.
His conscience erupted into a full-blown battle to stop and help or continue home. Offering assistance won, and he pulled off onto the shoulder, shifted into reverse, and backed up to the other vehicle. He grabbed a flashlight from his console and walked the fifty feet to the SUV.
He knocked on the glass, waited for someone to open the door or lower the window. Inside, hushed words debated over opening the door for him. He picked out four, no five, individual voices. When he heard someone say, “What if he’s an escaped convict?” he couldn’t resist a bit of humor.
Grinning, he knocked on the window again. “I’m not an escaped convict, have never even seen the inside of a jail except on a high school field trip. You won’t even find a speeding ticket under my name.”
The window lowered four inches, and when he shined the flashlight in, he saw the prettiest girl he’d ever seen. Rich brown hair fell in loose waves below the woman’s shoulders and deep brown eyes, the shade of a rich soil not found in these parts, stared at him. She reminded him of that girl who married Prince William several years ago. Gran had insisted he watch the wedding with her. What was her name? Kate something.
Breaking free from wandering thoughts, he reminded himself of his purpose for being there. “I saw you sitting with your four-ways on. Can I help you out in any way?”
The woman darted a glance at the others in the vehicle who all, presumably, gave permission to ask for help. “We ran into some car trouble, and can’t get a signal to call anyone.”
He nodded. “Service is still spotty out here, but it’s getting better.”
“Do you have a phone with a local carrier that might have reception?” She tensed her mouth, bit down on her lip.
“Afraid not. I’m in the same boat as you when it comes to cell service here.” He tipped his chin toward the front of the vehicle. “What kind of problems are you having?”
“An acrid smell came into the car, and then smoke plumed from under the hood.” The woman sighed. “We looked under the hood, couldn’t tell anything, then tried starting it again, hoping we could get to the next exit, but it won’t shift into gear.”
“Sounds like a transmission problem.” He didn’t tell her the symptoms screamed catastrophic failure. No sense causing panic when she already looked stressed. “You’ll have to get a tow.”
Her nose wrinkled, and he had a hunch she bit back a sharp retort. “That would be fine and dandy if we had a way to call.”
He craned his neck, attempting to number the women in the SUV for certain. “I’m headed to Seligman, which is the next exit. I can fit four more people in my truck, five if you don’t mind being squished. There’s a wrecker service there you can send out.”
“I, um…. can you give me a minute to discuss it with my friends?”
“Sure.”
She rolled up her window, but left it cracked—accidentally or not, he wasn’t sure—which left him privy to the conversation. A woman in the back staunchly argued not to leave with a stranger before the group decided they had no other viable option. Another debate ensued, this time if they should split up or stay together. Strength in numbers won out.
The window came all the way down, and she leaned her head toward him. “What’s your name?”
“Joel Kingston.” He reached into his rear pocket and took out his wallet. Flipped it open and showed her his license.
After she examined his identification card and studied his face then compared it to the picture on his license, she held out a hand. “Cassidy Frey. Nice to meet you.”
“Same to you, though I’m sure you wish it were under different circumstances.”
The first hint of a smile appeared. “They certainly aren’t ideal, but if you don’t mind, my friends and I will take you up on your offer.”
“How many of you all are there?”
“Five.”
That’s what he’d thought, but he’d hoped the answer was four. He considered himself a law-abiding citizen and didn’t relish the idea of everyone not having a seatbelt, but he couldn’t leave the women stranded. “Do you want to grab your luggage out? I can throw it in the truck bed.”
“Can we get it once it's towed?”
“You could, but I wouldn’t suggest leaving anything valuable in the vehicle.” Despite the darkness, he pointed up and down the interstate. “This road sees lots of travelers who might not think twice about checking out a car alongside the road at night and helping themselves to the contents. Besides, it could be hours until the tow truck gets here.”
Uh oh. The woman’s features tightened. Had he been too honest? Better they know the truth though.
“That’s a good point. We’ll be right out.” She rolled the window up a second time.
Moments later, the liftgate rose, and the women poured out of the side doors. Cars whirred by them, heading west to destinations unknown. Curiosity got to him, and he wondered where they’d been headed. Now probably wasn’t the best time to ask.
He’d thought Cassidy was the leader, but he soon realized that role belonged to a blonde woman in the group. She took charge of removing all the luggage and distributing the bags to their owners before announcing she’d contact the rental company as soon as a signal allowed.
Following behind him as he returned to his truck, they walked in a single-file line as far from the road as possible. They remained surprisingly quiet, and he could only imagine the thoughts going through their heads.
“Hand me the largest bags first.” He took a bag from Cassidy. A small electric shock shot through him when their hands brushed.
What in the world just happened? He’d never experienced anything like that in his life. Maybe it was an unusual effect from eating the meatloaf sandwich, like heartburn, but in his fingers. Yeah, right. Whatever it was, he chose to ignore it. All he had to do was drop these girls off at the wrecker service, complete his good deed for the night, and go home to figure out his next move with the motel.
Chapter Three
“What do you mean there’s no one available to tow the car until tomorrow?” Bridget’s voice matched the tense features of her face.
“I’m sorry ma’am, but Randy had a family emergency and can’t do it until tomorrow, and his assistant is on vacation.” Joel held up his phone. “You saw the sign on the garage door and heard the conversation.”
Cassidy intervened. “Is there another company who could come?”
He drew in a breath and twisted his lips. “There is, but it will cost you a fortune because they aren’t close by.”
“The rental company will cover the cost, won’t they Bridget?” She glanced at her friend holding the rental paper in her hands.
“Yes.” Bridget squeezed the papers. “I read the entire contract carefully before signin
g.”
Joel rubbed his nose. “Are any of you willing to front the money? I’m not trying to make this situation worse, but I know for a fact, any company you call will require payment at the time of service.”
“I can.” Lark, who had been largely silent since leaving behind the SUV, stepped forward. “I don’t mind, as long as we’ll definitely be reimbursed.”
Bridget tucked the papers in her purse, her face more relaxed than moments ago. “At this hour, nothing can be done about fixing the car until morning, anyway, right?”
“No.” Joel tilted his head in the direction of the garage. “I know you don’t have any reason to take my word, but I’d suggest waiting for Randy. He’s a good, honest, man who runs a tight shop. He can get your SUV here tomorrow and have his mechanics look at it by noon.”
“Are you all okay with that?” Bridget’s gaze circled the group.
“Fine with me.” Rain tapped on her phone. “I have a signal, but can’t connect to the internet.”
“Me either, but I’m okay with waiting until tomorrow if there’s a place we can stay the night.” Jessica covered a yawn with her hand.
Cassidy looked at Joel. Since she’d been the one to have that first interaction with him, she’d unofficially been designated as the go between with him. “Are there any hotels in town?”
“There’s a few motels to choose from.” He shifted his weight to his right leg, seeming to have more to say. “However, I’m not sure you’ll find a vacancy.”
“But we’re in a sleepy little town. How can they be full?” Lark’s eyes showed genuine confusion.
“I’m afraid you ladies picked the wrong weekend to break down.” He pointed to the lit marquee sign across the street.
Plastered in large block letters was written, Welcome Routeminiscers.
“What in the world is a routeminiscers?” Jessica continued staring at the sign.
“It’s a nationwide club of people dedicated to keeping alive the spirit of Route 66. Every year they have a convention somewhere along 66, and this year, it’s here.”
The fondness in Joel’s smile intrigued Cassidy. “How large is this group?”
“Their official membership tops one hundred thousand.”
A chorus of groans echoed in the parking lot.
Joel held up a hand. “Don’t worry. They don’t all attend the convention. If so, we wouldn’t have nearly the facilities to house them all. As it is, there are about two thousand who will come, but many are local, and some are staying in outlying towns.”
“I’m sorry.” Cassidy pinched the bridge of her nose. “Trouble follows me lately.”
“This isn’t your fault at all.” Bridget narrowed her eyes and dared her to disagree.
“I know you’ve had a rough time since everything with your dad, but trouble’s not following you.” Jessica slipped an arm around her shoulders. “This could have happened to anyone.”
Cassidy arched a brow. “Really? Anyone could have gotten stranded in the middle of nowhere with a bum transmission and ended up in a small town the one weekend of the year they’re having a conference?”
Jessica laughed. “I didn’t say it was likely, but hey, stranger things have happened. Regardless, it’s not your fault.”
“Jess is right.” Rain joined her side. “We’ve had a fantastic trip so far, and this is a minor blip. Consider it an adventure we’ll look back on and laugh about.”
She eyed Joel again. “What are the realistic chances of finding any rooms?”
“At an establishment open for business? Slim.” He took a deep breath. “However, I might be able to help you out.”
“How so?” She eyed him with a wary glance. Her gut said she could trust him, but trust wasn’t high on her capabilities at the moment.
“I’m in the process of remodeling a motel. It’s small and nothing fancy, but I have eight rooms that are finished.”
“How much?” Bridget asked.
“My treat.”
Lark shook her head. “We’ll pay you. It’s only right.”
“You ladies obviously have had a rough night, so let me do this nice thing for you.” He grinned. “Maybe I’m entertaining angels unaware.”
Rain laughed. “We’re definitely not angels, though I wish we were instead of stranded motorists.”
“I bet.” Joel chuckled then sobered. “Back to the payment—I’m not officially open for business, and can’t offer you the amenities of an opened business so I wouldn’t feel right accepting your money. However, you’ll have a comfortable bed for the night, and the pool is open so you can swim if you’d like.”
“I don’t think we have much choice unless we want to sleep under the stars.” Before officially accepting the offer, she got the approval of her friends through nods. “Once again, if you’re absolutely certain you don’t mind, we’d be grateful for your assistance.”
Joel had joked about them being angels, but she started to wonder if he was their guardian angel. He’d helped them out tremendously twice that night. If he hadn’t stopped, they might still be sitting on the shoulder of the interstate.
He doesn’t look like an angel. The thought caught her off guard as she hadn’t realized she’d noticed his appearance. It had been a subconscious observation that she’d stored away. His dark hair grew longer on the top than the sides, but was still short overall. His jaw sported several days’ worth of neatly trimmed facial hair, and his eyes were a dark gray that spoke volumes. In a different outfit and situation, she could see him playing the role of a bad boy, though nothing about his demeanor indicated so.
She lowered her gaze to his shirt and stifled a laugh when she saw a ketchup stain on his shirt. Considering his otherwise tidy appearance, she figured it had happened recently, within the last few hours.
His eyes met her gaze, and he moved a hand to cover the stain.
Did he read my thoughts or was my stare that obvious?
“My place is down the road a mile, right off the main strip.” He strode toward the driver’s side of his truck.
The girls all followed, and Cassidy took the front seat while the others crammed in the back. “What’s the name of your hotel?”
“It’s a motel.” Joel started the engine, issuing his correction without a sideways glance. “The name is Route 66 Roadside Lodge.”
“Cute and effective.” Her marketing degree kicked in. “Why not motel instead of lodge? Won’t some people assume a log cabin type accommodation?”
That’s what had first come to mind when she heard it, but it could actually be a log cabin for all she knew. However, even in the dark, she could tell such a building would look out of place.
“In some areas, I could see that as a valid point, but most of the guests who come to Seligman are here for nostalgic purposes and will see the name as a throwback to Route 66’s heyday when motor lodge was used more than motel.”
“Gotcha.”
He came to a stop in front of a plain building. If she’d been searching for a place to stay and had options, she would have passed up this quaint motel. Constructed of bricks painted white, the motel had one level and eight rooms along the front. From her vantage point, she couldn’t tell how many rooms were in the back and side. A cement sidewalk passed in front of the rooms, along with an awning supported by white aluminum columns.
“It’s cute. Quaint.”
“It’s not much, but it’s a work in progress.” Joel laid a hand on the door handle. “By the time I’m done, she’ll look much better.”
Worried she’d hurt his feelings, she hurried to come up with something more positive to say. “I see lots of potential. A touch of landscaping in the front and some Route 66 nostalgia will go a long way in sprucing it up.”
Why were the others so quiet? It wasn’t like them unless they were that tired. Not that she could blame them if they were—her own eyes grew heavier by the minute. On any given day of their trip, they’d stayed up later than the current time, but the vehic
le problems and subsequent trouble getting it towed and finding accommodations had worn her out.
Joel shrugged. “Like I said, it’s a work in progress.”
She bit her lip, something she should have done before her last two comments. Although she hadn’t meant any offense, his reaction showed he’d taken some. And who could blame him? In her attempt to compliment him, she’d inadvertently issued a backhanded compliment.
Sigh. Couldn’t she do anything right lately?
“Where should we go?” Jessica asked from the backseat.
“Come with me to the office, and I’ll get you keys to the rooms.” Joel jumped from the driver’s seat and strolled toward the right corner of the motel. He pulled a set of keys from his pocket and unlocked the door. “How many rooms do you want?”
Cassidy and her friends looked at each other. Did they share rooms? If cost wasn’t a factor, why not a little privacy, but was it worth inconveniencing Joel even more?
Bridget looked at a layout of the motel pinned to the wall. “How many beds are in each room?”
“Four rooms have two doubles, two have two queens, and two have a single king.”
“Can we have the two with queen beds and the king?” Bridget looked at her. “Do you mind having a room to yourself?”
Bless you!
“Not at all.” She desperately needed time to herself, and couldn’t even find it in her to feel guilty for taking the king-sized bed. After all, it had been offered to her, and they all could have had a room to themselves if they’d wanted one badly enough.
Bridget cast her a knowing wink.
Joel handed out three sets of keys. “I have old fashioned keys for the time being, but once all the rooms have been renovated, I’ll switch over to an electronic keycard entry system.”
Wow. She hadn’t used a key to enter a hotel—motel—room in years. Her dad had run a resort in Treasure Harbor before becoming a politician and into his early years of civil service. Even twenty years ago, he’d had a higher tech system.
