Single dad missed his big interview to help a stranger, she was a CEO who changed everything…
The rain came down in sheets, hammering the cracked asphalt like an angry drum. Thunder rolled overhead, shaking the ground beneath Noah Carter’s boots as he slammed his old truck door shut. His shirt was already soaked through, his jeans heavy with water, but he couldn’t ignore the sight in the distance.
A black luxury sedan half buried in mud at the edge of the flooded road. The driver’s door swung open, and a woman in a tailored gray coat stumbled out, her heels sinking into the muck. She looked furious and helpless.
His phone buzzed with a reminder, job interview in ten minutes, but Noah didn’t move toward the highway, he moved toward her.
No, no, no, this is not happening, the woman muttered, yanking at her stuck heel. Her coat was spotless despite the storm, but the water pooling around her ankles was anything but clean. Her dark hair clung to her cheeks, mascara smudged at the corners of her eyes.
She was breathing fast, like the cold was trying to steal the air from her lungs. Noah splashed through the ankle-deep water toward her. You’re gonna twist your ankle like that, he said, his voice cutting through the storm.
She whipped around, startled. Her eyes flicked over him, a tall man in a faded flannel shirt, jeans caked in mud, a baseball cap shielding his face from the worst of the rain. I’m fine, she snapped, trying to free her shoe.
No, you’re not, he replied flatly, crouching to grip the heel and pull it free with one sharp tug. He handed it to her without meeting her gaze. Get in the car, I’ll handle it.
You don’t even know me, she said, holding the shoe like it was evidence in a trial. Lady, I don’t need to know you to help you, you’re stuck, I’ve got a truck. She hesitated, watching as he trudged back to his vehicle.
His pickup looked older than she was, rust eating at the wheel wells. But the chains in the back told her this wasn’t his first time pulling someone out of the mud. When he reversed toward her sedan, she noticed his hands, calloused, strong, veins standing out against the pale skin.
He hooked the chain to her bumper like he’d done it a hundred times, then climbed into his cab. A roar from the engine, a slow pull, and the sedan groaned free from the mud with a wet schlurp. By the time she climbed into her car, drenched and shivering, he was walking back through the rain without waiting for thanks…
