The worst part was, that dream was still going to have to wait thanks to the late dinner I was going to be forced to have with my mother.

The prospect of spending another evening with her was daunting; I didn’t need her harping on my lack of a serious relationship yet again. She was sure to lecture me about the fact that I let my long-term boyfriend, George, walk all over me and not commit to marrying me. And then in the next breath she’d probably berate me for leaving him and moving back home, becoming a spinster at the age of thirty-four.

Talk about mixed signals.

It had only been three weeks since I left my heart on the floor of the condo I shared with George. I had finally given him the ultimatum that had been on my mind for as long as I could remember—marry me or let me move on to find someone to build the family with me that I so desperately wanted.

George had seemed completely taken aback by my declaration. He even argued with me for well over an hour that you don’t need to be married to build a family. Apparently he wasn’t in a place yet to know if that was what he wanted for the future. According to him, I should’ve just set my feelings aside a little longer.

I had wanted to scream at him that four years together was time enough to know if you wanted a future that included a house and two point five kids with someone. I didn’t though. Instead I gave him a sad smile, placed a kiss on his cheek and, with watery eyes, went to pack my bags.

On my way out, he had grabbed me and kissed me breathless. There had been a moment when I thought this was it; he was going to surrender to my needs. To my dreams. I was so very wrong. He merely stepped away from my body, leaving me bereft, then watched as I composed myself, grabbed my bags and walked out the door.

From then on I was struggling just to make it day to day. To figure out who I was. And to feel again. Since leaving George, I’d become numb inside. Devoid of anything I used to be. I knew time would heal the vicious wound, and that one day I might meet someone who would make me feel alive again. Someone who’d mend my broken heart. Until that day came though, I might as well have been dead.

As I drove through the rainstorm, my thoughts of George and the mess that was my life had tears filling my eyes and spilling down over my cheeks. My vision was blurry as I wiped away the wetness that was flowing too fast for my actions to serve any real purpose.

A shadowy figure abruptly appeared in front of my car and I panicked. My foot slammed on the brakes, and I screamed as the car began hydroplaning on the slick road. The back end of my Ford sedan fishtailed, and I could only stare out the window in horror as I headed straight towards the dark silhouette of a person on the side of the road.

Gripping the wheel and spinning it to the side, I desperately tried to move the car in any other direction, but it was futile. Just as I thought I was about to hit this person, they jumped out of the way, diving to the ground for safety.

Finally catching traction, the car skidded back onto the pavement and spun out while my foot pressed heavily on the brake pedal. The whole time I prayed the stranger was okay. That I hadn’t just committed vehicular homicide.

With a hand resting on my chest, I closed my eyes and breathed heavily after the car came to a stop. When I opened my eyes again, I was surprised to see I was facing the right way on the road, albeit a little crookedly.

I never should have been driving once the rain got as heavy as it did. Especially since I had a forty-five minute drive home. I should have pulled off to the side of the road and waited it out. I knew better. And now I was a blubbering, shaking mess in the front seat of my car while a stranger was probably mangled on the ground behind me.

When I finally collected myself enough to do so, I looked in the side mirror and saw the dark figure seated on the ground with legs bent, forearms resting on knees and a downcast head.

Thank God the person was sitting up. I felt a sense of relief knowing no one had died as a result of my actions.

My heart pounded like a drum inside my chest at the realization that it was a man I had almost hit. Everything had happened so quickly I hadn’t even thought about whether the person was male or female. Now that I knew, I suddenly felt nervous and scared. Here I was on a deserted road, at night, alone.

Should I get out and see if he was okay? Wasn’t that proper etiquette when you almost run someone down?

The fact that he was sitting up was promising, although he hadn’t moved since my car had come to a stop. Maybe he had a heart attack sitting up? I was no doctor. Without looking I’d never be sure. And if he was injured I didn’t want to be the asshole that left him there.

Getting out of the car was probably going to be my worst decision ever. I could already see the headlines—“Dumb broad raped and murdered on abandoned road.” Talk about becoming a cliché victim from a horror movie.

When the man continued to remain motionless, I cursed and palmed my cell phone. Looking down at the screen I realized I had one bar of service. I figured I might be able to get a quick call out before being murdered.

As soon as I opened the door, rain pelted the left side of my body until I could open the small umbrella I kept stowed under my seat. I rose slowly from the car, shutting the door as quietly as possible, afraid to disturb the stranger seemingly lost in thought. The loud sounds of thunder and the rush of rain in the night air were wreaking havoc with the panic building up inside of me.

Tightening my grip on my phone to the point I was afraid it might break, I cautiously stepped towards the stranger. I was about ten feet away when I realized he was talking to himself. I couldn’t make out all the words, but it seemed as though he was beating himself up over something. Maybe the fact that I almost ran him over.

A small part of me relaxed knowing he was alive and hopefully uninjured. The rest remained on edge from fear of the unknown.

“Just my fucking luck,” he bit out right before his body tensed and his eyes fixed on my face.

I cleared my throat nervously while he stared at me intently. “Hello.”

I hated how my voice shook and betrayed my apprehension. It was too dark to make out his face. The shadows around him gave him an almost sinister appearance, which only served to make my mind think the worst.

When he didn’t answer, but continued to assess me, I spoke a little louder.

“I’m really sorry about what happened back there. Are you okay?”

I knew he could speak since I’d just heard him muttering to himself. Maybe he was deaf? I decided to try again.

“Did I hurt you?”

After several seconds, his head shook, yet his gaze stayed locked to me.

Well that ruled out him being deaf.

“Do you need help getting up?” I tried a different tactic seeing as how he was still sitting on the road, in the rain. All I got in return was another shake of his head.

“Are you going to get up then?”

“Probably not.” His deep, rough voice washed over me sending shivers down my spine. I had never heard someone’s voice sound like sex before. I couldn’t say the feelings it evoked weren’t entirely welcome. It had been a long damn time since I felt this visceral of a reaction from a man. Even before George.

Unsure what to say to that other than “are you crazy?” I quickly took in the stranger’s appearance as the lightning in the sky replaced the darkness.

He was tall, with dark hair that was in need of a cut. The ends curled around the collar of his long sleeved thermal shirt. Thick strands flopped forward, hanging on his forehead, water dripping from them.

His arms strained the fabric of his shirt, showcasing toned muscles underneath. And his hands were the perfect man hands—strong with thick veins. Amazing.