Chapter 9

CHAPTER NINE

The squeal of rubber against asphalt broke the stillness of the calm afternoon, startling Kinley. Halfway across the street, she tossed a look over her shoulder just as a car whipped around the corner.

Her gaze locked on the vehicle as it grew closer, the roar of the engine filling her ears. Bright sunlight reflected off the windshield, obscuring her view of the person inside. The sedan was dark, and the space on the front bumper that would normally accommodate a license plate was conspicuously bare. Apprehension washed over her, and goosebumps broke out along her skin despite the heat of the afternoon.

Seconds felt like hours as the car bore down on her, and Kinley realized with sickening dread that it was headed straight for her. For a moment, she couldn't move. The box in her arms felt like it weighed a thousand pounds as she forced her muscles to cooperate.

Her heart jumped into her throat as she dropped the box and threw herself out of the way, aiming for the parking lot several feet away. Kinley tumbled to the pavement between two vehicles, head spinning and limbs aching from the hard landing. But instead of speeding past, the car followed her trajectory.

Metal screeched as the driver in the sedan sideswiped the red car closest to her, pushing it against the other car. Protected within the V of the two damaged cars, she dared a look under the white car to her right, watching as the driver took off down the road. The sedan made a sharp left at the intersection, heedless of oncoming traffic, sending up a cacophony of blaring horns.

Her palms ached as she pushed to a sitting position and rested her back against the fender of the car next to her. Her breath came too fast, and her pulse still thrummed so rapidly she could hear the rush of blood in her ears.

She gingerly brushed the bits of gravel and dirt from her palms, then brushed at the torn knees of her jeans.

Footsteps pounded against pavement, and a middle-aged man appeared in front of her. "Hey, are you all right? That guy didn't even try to stop."

Kinley grimaced but managed a small nod. "I think I'm okay, just a little banged up."

"That looks like it hurts."

His sympathetic gaze moved over her face, and she automatically lifted a hand to her forehead. The gash near her hairline had reopened and sullenly oozed blood. She swiped it away before it could drip into her eye.

"Hold on." The man disappeared, then reappeared less than a minute later. He extended a handful of fast-food napkins her way.

"Thanks." Kinley gratefully took them and pressed them to the wound.

"No problem. The cops are already on the way. I'll have the stores page the owners' license plates. My name's Jim, by the way."

"Kinley." Using the car as leverage, she pulled herself unsteadily to her feet. "I appreciate you sticking around."

"No problem." He gave a slow shake of his head. "The nerve of some people. Who does that?"

That was a good question. "Did you get a look at the driver?"

"Not really, no." The man shook his head ruefully. "He had on a baseball cap and sunglasses, so it was hard to tell for sure. But he looked about your age."

Kinley nodded. She hadn't gotten a look at him, either. The sunlight had glinted off the windshield, obscuring her view. She'd been far more worried about getting out of the way than looking at the driver. "That's okay. I'm sure the cops will figure it out."

Less than ten minutes later, a cruiser pulled into the parking lot and the patrolman unfolded from the car. Jim lifted his hand in a wave, directing him to their position.

Cooper Klein approached, concern etched deep in his expression. "Kins? What happened?"

Cooper had been one year ahead of Kinley in school, and she shot him a weary smile. "Hey, Coop."

She and Jim took turns relaying the story. Cooper took notes, intermittently asking questions, before turning to Kinley. "Are you okay, Kins? We should get you to the hospital so they can fix those stitches."

His gaze moved to her forehead, and she self-consciously ducked her head. She hated the injury that drew everyone's attention. "I don't need an ambulance or anything."

"Are you sure?" His brows drew together. "I can drive you if you're not feeling up to it."

She forced a tight smile. "I'll be okay, I promise."

He nodded. "I have everything I need for now. Make sure to get that looked at."

"Thanks."

Cooper helped her clean up the damaged vases, salvaging what they could, which was precious little. She fired off a quick text to Ainsley letting her know she was running late, then climbed into the car and headed toward the hospital. Dr. Patel fixed her stitches, administered painkillers, and sent her on her way. By the time she was released, Kinley was exhausted.

She needed to see Ainsley, though she wasn't looking forward to it. Bracing herself, she headed toward Dare and Ainsley's house on the lake.

Her sister greeted her at the door, worry clouding her features. "Is everything okay?"

"It is now. There was an accident downtown, so I got held up." She followed Ainsley inside and settled in the kitchen. "I have some bad news, though. Most of the vases for your centerpieces didn't make it."

"Don't worry about that." Ainsley's gaze swept over her face. "I'm just glad you're okay. What happened?"

The sound heavy footsteps drifted toward the kitchen, and Kinley braced herself as they drew closer. She swiveled on the chair and offered her sister's fiancé a tight smile. "Hey, Dare.

His brows pulled together as his gaze landed on her face. "What happened?"

"Just an accident."

"The hit and run downtown?"

She supposed it had been a hit and run, considering the driver had damaged two vehicles then fled the scene. "Yeah. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"I heard the call come across," Dare spoke up, "but they never mentioned your name. Had I known, I would have been there."

"It's no big deal—really. The driver was just in a hurry, and I wasn't fast enough." Even as she said the words, a chill slithered down her spine.

It was almost eerie how the driver had seemed to steer right toward her even as she dove between the two cars. She shook off the odd sensation. More than likely he was on his phone or something and just wasn't paying attention.

Dare's intense gaze moved to her forehead and she fought the urge to cover the injury. "Well, I'm glad you're okay. You sure you don't need anything?"

"No, I'm good." She shook her head and turned her attention back to Ainsley. "But if you don't mind, I'm going to head home. Can we work on the party stuff later this week?"

Her head ached as it had often for the past week, and all she wanted was to lie down and relax. The effects of the fall had begun to kick in, and she felt bone-tired.

"Of course. Don't worry about the centerpieces, we have plenty of time to get them done." Ainsley pulled her in for a hug. "You just get some rest and call me tomorrow."

"Will do." Kinley gave her sister one last squeeze, then headed toward home.

Ten minutes later she steered the car into the small detached garage behind the house, then climbed out. Her gaze drifted toward the house, and a scowl pulled at her mouth. She propped her hands on her hips and glared at the pile of wood that, just a couple of weeks ago, had been her back deck.

It was just one more thing on her ever-growing list of things to fix. The rotted, splintering wood boards had been ripped away from the house, along with a good section of siding from the lower portion of the house. The old metal siding was dented and rusting, and the previous owners had pieced the home together, or updated as needed, because it didn't match the newer vinyl siding at the top of the house at all.

Now, it wasn't likely to ever get fixed. With absolutely no experience with these things, Kinley had hired a local handyman a few weeks back. As it turned out, that hadn't exactly been her greatest idea.

Hayes had asked for cash up front and, na?ve idiot she was, she gave it to him. He'd shown up for all of a day, just long enough to rip the deck and siding down, toss it in a pile, then take off without another word.

She'd tried calling a dozen times, but each had gone unanswered. His voicemail was full, too, probably from the messages she'd continued to leave for the past week and a half since he'd skipped out on her. She tried to give him the benefit of the doubt for the first few days, but she now had to admit that he was never coming back.

Now she was out the money she'd paid him, and she couldn't afford to hire someone else. Though she could've asked her parents for the money, Kinley would rather die than admit she needed help.

Her gaze slid to the pile of tools lying next to the shed. She'd stupidly assumed he would at least come back for those, but they didn't seem to be of much value to him. Although, now he had an extra twenty-five-hundred bucks in his pocket that he could use to replace them.

A lengthy sigh escaped before she could stop it. Well, if he ever did come back for tools, she wasn't going to make it easy on him. He'd damn well have to talk to her if he wanted his things back. Scooping up an empty box as she passed, she strode determinedly toward the shed, then tossed the stray hammers, saws and other paraphernalia, inside with a little more force than necessary.

He was supposed to have taken the siding to be scrapped, but apparently the few extra bucks he'd have made weren't worth the trip. Angry at Hayes but even more mad at herself, she snatched up the box and stormed back into the garage.

The previous owner, Mr. Lewes, had liked to tinker around with stuff, so he'd installed a row of cabinets along the back wall of the garage. They came in handy, especially for storage, since her little two-bedroom house didn't offer much in the way of extra space.

Too many bad things had happened recently, and Kinley no longer wanted any part of living here. Hence hiring the handyman. With student loans coming due, on top of the monthly mortgage and utility bills, she was strapped for cash. But after what had happened to Ainsley right here in this house, she couldn't bear to stay here any longer than necessary.

She'd originally planned to make this my starter home, stay here for a few years until she—maybe—got married. That prospect was dying a slow death, though, too.

Shaking the thought away, she slid the heavy box onto the counter and headed for the house, pushing all the negative thoughts away. Just once, she wished things would work out the way they were supposed to.