Free On the Mountain (Follow your Bliss #5) by Deirdre Riordan Hall

driving down the winding road.
    “Yeah. It’s my parents’ place. I
uh, am visiting.”
    “Long way from home, huh?”
    “I guess so,” she said, not
appreciating yet another suggestion that she wasn’t cut out for country life or
independence.
    “I’m Wes Carter, by the way. Nice
to meet you,” he said, extending one hand while he drove with the other. His
rough, calloused fingers clasped hers like a mitt.
    “I’m Baskia. Baskia Benedict.
Nice to meet you too.”
    “Are you a student?” he asked.
    “No. Well. It’s complicated.
You?”
    “I was supposed to graduate next
spring, but I had to take a year off.” His eyes held steadily to the road
ahead.
    “I’m supposed to start tomorrow,
orientation, blah, blah, blah, but—” she abruptly stopped, startled by speaking
her decision aloud.
    “That doesn’t sound complicated.”
    “Trust me, it is.”
    The gas station came into view
and Wes pulled in. Baskia looked uncertainly at the old-fashioned pumps and the
small station.
    “I have a spare tank in the
back,” he said, getting out.
    “Thanks.” Baskia remained in the
truck, paralyzed because not only did she not know what to do, but also because
embarrassment burned her cheeks. Trace would have had fun with her foible;
fortunately, he didn’t have to know, thanks to Wes. As he got back in the
truck, her phone rang. Will’s photo appeared on the screen.
    “I have to take this,” she said.
    Wes started up the truck and
headed out to the road.
    “Hey, little sister,” Will said
cheerfully. “Got your message.”
    “And…”
    “Are you in Vermont?”
    “Don’t say anything to um...”
    “Mom? Why?” Will asked, picking
up her meaning.
    “I’ll tell you later,” she said,
eyeing Wes. She knew her brother would understand, but she didn’t want to share
her flimsy reasoning with the rugged mountain man beside her.
    “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.
But, Trace is a good guy. Do you mind if he just stays a few days?”
    “I do mind.”
    “Come on. I owe him,” Will said.
    “And why’s that?”
    “I’ll tell you later.”
    “Touché.” She started to say
more, but the call dropped. She sighed.
    “Spotty service around here,” Wes
said. “Everything okay?”
    “I guess so.” At that, they
returned to the BMW. Baskia opened the fuel door and poured in the gas; she
didn’t want to appear completely incompetent. “Thanks a lot.”
    “Of course. Anytime,” Wes said,
getting back in his truck.
    Baskia turned the key in the
ignition, but the engine was quiet. She tried again, but still nothing. Even
though she knew little about cars, she was certain the gas made them go. Her
forehead rested on the steering wheel.
    Wes wrapped on the window. “Won’t
start?” he asked.
    She shook her head.
    “Can you pop the hood?”
    Thankfully, he walked over to the
front of the car so he couldn’t see her groping under the dash for the lever,
cursing herself for being so—she didn’t want to say dumb, but that was how she
felt. And helpless. Dumb and helpless with no business out in the sticks. She
was a city girl. She considered just calling a cab; surely, one would come get
her. She’d pay for it no matter how much it cost. Her phone vibrated with a
text. Miraculously, the message came through. It was from one of her friends,
Ali.
    Missed you last night at the
Dome. Where the heck are you? London said you bailed. What’s up?
    She didn’t have the energy to
explain. No one would understand.
    Wes slammed the hood. “I think
you need a new alternator. I thought it was the battery, but it looks like—”
    Baskia stopped listening. Tears
of failure welled in her eyes.
    “It’s no biggie.”
    She shook her head, looking away.
    “There’s a place just on the edge
of town. Let’s get it towed there, and they’ll repair it for you. How about I
bring you home?”
    Thankful for Wes’s kindness,
Baskia got in the truck and they climbed back up the mountain.
    He tuned the radio dial,