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The windshield wipers of his tow truck pushed buckets of rain clear, but still Mitch Dressen had trouble seeing where he was going. Good thing he was as familiar with the mountains leading into Sweet Falls as he was the back of his hand.
A very wet, muddy hand.
The radio signal was still strong as he turned in for a weather and traffic report. “We haven’t had a rainstorm like this in three seasons. If you can stay off the roads, if you don’t need to go out, do yourselves a favor, and don’t.”
Mitch turned off the radio in his tow truck with a chuckle. Good old weathermen always trying to put the fear of god into you. A good thing or some of the locals might’ve gone and gotten themselves hurt. “Yo, Mitch, where you at?” Came the voice over the CB radio.
Johnny [Blake] coming in from Mitch’s family mechanic shop—Dressen Services. Mitch picked up the CB microphone and pressed the clip. “Ten minutes out, Johnny. Roads are a mess, but it seems most people knew enough not to leave the valley and head on....” Mitch’s voice drifted off as he came upon a car near hidden in the trees. He couldn’t make out the make or model, but the lights were on and the front driver side door was open.
“Let me get back, Johnny. Someone here might be in trouble. I’ll see you soon, Partner.”
“Good, now if you could stop on the way and bring me some hot breadsticks from Momma Jan’s Pizzeria—.”
Mitch snorted and hung the receiver back up. He fished his flash light out of his toolbox stowed behind the passenger seat. He flicked it on and stepped out into the rain. Mitch raised the hood of his yellow slicker and approached the car. His boots sunk into the muddy grass as he stopped by the license plate. It was a Jaguar. He didn’t know much about fancy cars, but he didn’t think someone would leave it by the side of the road unless there was a problem.
He checked the driver’s door to make sure no one was hurt. Inside he found an open suitcase and a woman’s purse. Fancy too, purple like the car, with a lot of shiny rhinestones. He checked the inside contents for an ID and when he found it, Mitch paused and his heart sank.
A stinking Sinclair. As if he didn’t have enough problems without dealing with the mighty rich. Everyone who was anyone worth knowing knew that the Sinclairs an Dressens didn’t mix. They were oil and water, that’s what Mitch’s father always said when the subject came up.
And somehow the subject always did.
Mitch felt a wave of anger hit him and he tried not to let it overtake him. She looked just like one of them. Dark hair, brown eyes and an unmoving expression on her face. He grunted and tossed the ID back into the wallet. She was out there, somewhere, and Mitch fought the urge to leave her and her car in the middle of nowhere.
Gentlemen didn’t go abandon people and Mitch always fancied himself one. So he sighed, closed the driver’s door and cast his flash light down the road. “Ms. Sinclair?” Mitch called and started his way down the hill.
“You all right?” He called out, gave a whistle, and nearly slid in a thick pile of mud. It seeped out from the grass and down the treacherous hill. If she had gone that way and tripped, she could’ve ended up in Ravine Creek.
This rescue might be more than he could handle if that happened. Mitch weighed his options and decided to go on a little bit further.
“Allison?” Mitch called louder and slid down on his thick boots. The rain was picking up traction and soon the creek would swell. Anything caught in it might be in trouble.
He paused as the wind picked up, whistling through the branches as the leaves shuddered all around him. His flashlight showed him footsteps and a skid slowly being covered up in the moving mud. It looked like she had crashed into the trees.
Mitch turned and saw evidence of broken branches. He ducked down, going deeper off road. Branches swiped at his cheek as he pushed passed the trees and saw the form of a woman crashed against beside a group of tall oak trees.
She moaned, trying to push herself up.
“Miss?” Mitch hurried over to her and when his flashlight accidentally lit up her face, Allison cringed and shielded her eyes.
“Help,” she said in a soft, scared voice, “my car....” She was in a sweatshirt, no pants, and flimsy blue flipflops. All of it covered in thick patches of mud. It would’ve been funny if she hadn’t been knocked out cold. Whatever she was doing out this far from Hamilton Springs, this Allison Sinclair hadn’t been prepared for the storm she had been caught in.
“I can get it out of the mud and back to my shop no problem. First though, I’m concerned with you.” Mitch said and noticed how badly she was quivering in the cold. “Dang, where are my manners, girl.” He peeled his raincoat off and wrapped it around her small frame.
Allison cinched it closed, wrapping her arms around herself. “Thank you. I can repay you later. If you could help me up...my legs feel pretty weak. I wasn’t expecting things to go so bad.” Even in the darkness, Mitch could see how embarrassed she was.
“Think nothing of it. I’ll get you back to the truck. There’s a thermos of hot coffee. It’ll help fix you right up.” Mitch helped her up and then swung his arms beneath her and hoisted her up into his arms. She didn’t fight him, but she squealed. “Be faster this way.”
With those muddy flip flops she wore, Mitch didn’t want to risk her sliding back down the mountain again. It was getting late, the roads were dark, and the rain wasn’t going to let up anytime soon.
“All right,” Allison said as she gazed into his face. Mitch realized she was much prettier than her driver’s license photo would suggest. Button nose, high cheek bones, plump kissable lips, and expressive eyes that warmed him up when she gazed at him.
Too bad she was a Sinclair.