The latest pop song on the radio broadcasted a man begging his lover not to give up on them. As the sun beamed through the windshield, Sofia wondered about what it would be like to love someone that much and hold on with both hands. Of course she’d dated in New Orleans and cared about the few boyfriends she’d had, but had she loved them? Okay, she loved a couple, but she had never been “in love.” She refused to settle, and no matter how much she had tried to be in love with those sweet husband-material guys, it had never been enough. Her heart was never in it with any of them.
Ahead of her, the heat came off the asphalt in waves, creating a mirage. The road, of course, was in desperate need of repair. One of the downsides of living in a poor state was that no matter where you drove, the road was pot-hole-ridden. At least she was almost home. Home. She’s always had a place to lay her head down, but now she wouldn’t have to worry about people at work knowing where she lived. In St. Fleur, she wouldn’t have to watch her rearview mirror to make sure she didn’t bring work home and, in turn, endanger her life.
The steering wheel vibrated in her hand, and her head shot up from the navigation system. “Seriously! What now?”
At least smoke wasn’t rising from the hood. With the turn signal on, she eased the full car onto the unpaved shoulder. Taking a deep breath, she looked up. There stood the “Welcome to St. Fleur” sign, mocking her. Although could she really blame the sign? The last three years had been one sad, depressing joke. Honestly, she was surprised she’d lasted those three years. She had watched enough people come and go to know she was the anomaly.
Taking a breath, she reminded herself that the past was just that—the past. “Right now is only the present.”
Too bad this present seemed to include a flat tire mere miles from her new home. From the car, she grabbed a bottle of water and the jack. She set her mind to fix the flat so she could arrive at her building and unpack. As she unscrewed the last lug nut, she heard the unmistakable sound of a pickup truck. She wasn’t in the mood to deal with some country boy thinking she was a damsel in distress. It was too damn hot and humid, not to mention her stomach was about to eat itself alive. She really should have had a real breakfast and not just a banana on the run.
Focusing on the task at hand, she dragged the tire off, bit by bit. Maybe putting twenties on her car hadn’t been the smartest idea. The crunching of boots on gravel got louder. Oh yay.
“Hi, do you need any help?”
Sofia looked up through the shades of yellow illuminating the aura and was surprised to find not some country boy, but a woman. “Uh, no, I think I’m good. I almost have it off now.”
The brunette was dressed in cowboy boots, cut-off jeans, and a black tank top. Her light brown eyes indicated that she didn’t quite believe Sofia. “Well, I don’t mind helping. If anything, it will get you out of this heat. I’m Lindsey, by the way.”
“Sofia.” Not looking at the woman, she continued with the stubborn tire.
“You new to town? Or visiting someone?”
Lindsey inserted herself without invitation on one side, and Sofia shifted as they lifted the tire up and off. Yup, definitely faster with her help.
“New to town actually.” They carried the tire to the back of the car and set it on the ground. “I bought a building on Main Street.” Sofia opened the trunk and moved things aside to get to the spare. She nodded toward the flat tire on the ground. “Thanks.”
Lindsey slipped her hands in her back pockets. “Oh, the one next to Whiskey’s?”
“Yeah, the pub with the amazing muffulettas.” She rolled the spare over and began putting it and the lug nuts back on.
Lindsey sat on the soft grass next to her and crossed her legs. “Yeah, that’s Jaime Lynn’s specialty. You’d never believe it since it’s never on the specials board. Oh, and you can take the flat to Rocco’s on Decatur. He’ll fix it right up for you.”
“Thanks, I’ll do that after I unpack.” At that moment, Sofia’s stomach let out the loudest growl. She felt her cheeks flush and placed a hand on her stomach.
“Sounds like you’ll need some food first,” Lindsey said with a smirk and giggle that made her look younger. “So where are you moving from? What are you going to do with the building?”
Sofia stopped and studied Lindsey’s face. Sofia had lived in the South long enough to know the difference between a nosy person and a person who was innately curious.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“No, it’s okay. I lived in New Orleans, and I plan on living in the apartment upstairs and running my business downstairs.” Sofia stood and wiped her hands on her jean shorts. She reached into the car for her purse and removed a business card. She handed it to Lindsey then went to verify that all the lug nuts were snug before she lowered the car.
“‘Orchid Photography, Sofia Brazier, Weddings, Birthdays, Events, Children.’ Wait, Brazier?” Lindsey giggled.
Sofia sighed. “Yeah, I know. I’ve gotten teased all my life.” She took a drink of water and put the cap back on. “My family came from France and settled in the New Orleans area after the Civil War. Or so I’ve been told.” With an inward groan, she pushed those thoughts back.
Lindsey stood and brushed the dirt from her bottom. “Well, it was nice meeting you, Sofia! You can find me at the library in town or my house. It’s the small two-bedroom cottage on James Street by the large white house with a wraparound porch.”
With a smile and a wave, Lindsey walked back to her pickup. Her skin wasn’t quite porcelain white, but she wasn’t exactly tanned either. Shorter than Sofia’s five seven, Lindsey was curvy and had a figure most women envied. Not that Sofia had any issues with her own athletic build. She enjoyed food and in turn found running soothing, not just to stay in shape but to ease her mind. The truck pulled away, and with a honk and wave, Lindsey drove off.
After Sofia hoisted the flat tire into her car, she put her things back in the trunk. She got in her Cadillac CTS, turned her music on, and drove the last few miles home.