Roadside Rescue
"When Elijah stops to help a stranded motorist on a lonely highway, he discovers the grateful stranger is his best friend's recently divorced mother."
The desert highway stretched endless in both directions, heat waves rising from the asphalt in the late afternoon sun. Elijah almost didn't stop when he saw the SUV with its hazards blinking on the shoulder. Almost.
But he'd been raised better than that.
He pulled his truck behind the disabled vehicle and stepped out into the scorching heat. The woman who emerged from the driver's side made him forget all about the temperature.
She was thick in all the ways he liked—generous hips, full breasts straining against a sundress, a belly that spoke of good living and confidence. Her blonde hair was escaping its ponytail, and her face was flushed with frustration.
Then recognition hit like a punch to the gut.
"Mrs. Patterson?"
Her eyes went wide. "Elijah? Elijah Moore?"
Of all the people to break down in the middle of nowhere. His best friend Danny's mom—the woman he'd harbored a secret crush on since he was sixteen and she'd shown up to pick Danny up from basketball practice in a bikini top and shorts.
That had been a decade ago. She'd been married then, unavailable in every way. Now, according to Danny, she was newly divorced and "going through some stuff."
"Let me take a look," he said, already moving to the hood. Better to focus on the car than the way her dress hugged her curves.
The engine was fried—cracked radiator, by the smell of things. Elijah wiped his hands on his jeans and delivered the bad news.
"I can give you a ride to the next town. There's a mechanic there, but you'll probably need to leave it overnight."
Mrs. Patterson—Sandra, he remembered—sighed heavily. "I was supposed to be in Phoenix by nine. There's a hotel reservation, a spa day tomorrow..." She trailed off, then laughed bitterly. "Story of my life lately. Nothing goes right."
"Divorce?" he asked gently.
"That obvious?"
"Danny mentioned it."
She leaned against her car, and the position did remarkable things to her cleavage. Elijah forced his eyes to stay on her face.
"Twenty-three years," she said. "I gave him twenty-three years, two kids, and my best figure." Her smile was sad. "He left me for his secretary. Original, right?"
"His loss."
The words came out more intense than he'd intended. Sandra looked at him—really looked—for the first time. Whatever she saw made her breath catch.
"You grew up," she murmured. "I still picture you as that gangly kid with the too-big shoes."
"Time passes."
"It does." She pushed off from the car. "You said something about a ride?"
The motel was the only lodging in the tiny desert town—twelve rooms, a vending machine, and a pool that looked like it hadn't been cleaned since the Clinton administration. Sandra booked the last available room while Elijah made arrangements with the mechanic for her car.
"Thank you," she said when he found her sitting by the questionable pool, her feet dangling in the water. "For stopping. For all of this."
"Anyone would have."
"No. They wouldn't." She patted the concrete beside her. "Sit with me? Unless you need to get going."
He should have kept driving. Should have been in Phoenix himself by now, attending the conference he'd been dreading. Instead, he sat.
The sun was setting, painting the sky in oranges and reds. Sandra leaned into him slightly, and he could smell her perfume mixed with the heat of the day.
"Can I tell you something?" she asked quietly.
"Anything."
"I used to notice you. Back when you'd come over to see Danny." She laughed softly. "God, that sounds terrible. You were just a kid."
"I noticed you too," he admitted. "You weren't subtle in that bikini."
Her laugh became a surprised bark of delight. "That old thing? I was trying to prove a point to Frank. That other men still looked." She turned to face him. "Did you? Look?"
"I was sixteen, Mrs. Patterson. I did more than look."
"Sandra." She was closer now, her hand resting on his thigh. "Call me Sandra."
"Sandra." Her name felt like a confession. "We shouldn't—"
"You're not a kid anymore, Elijah. I'm not married anymore." Her fingers traced higher. "I've spent two decades being proper and faithful and look where it got me. Maybe I'm tired of shouldn't."
He kissed her before his conscience could stop him. She tasted like regret and new beginnings, her mouth opening beneath his with a small moan of need. His hands found her waist, pulling her closer until she was half in his lap, her soft body pressed against him.
"Inside," she gasped between kisses. "Take me inside."
Her room was small and clean and anonymous—exactly what this moment needed. Elijah stripped her with trembling hands, revealing a body that exceeded every teenage fantasy. Her breasts were heavy and full, pink nipples hardening under his gaze. Her stomach was soft, lined with the proof of the children she'd borne. Her thighs were thick and welcoming.
"I'm not what I used to be," she said, vulnerability creeping into her voice.
"You're exactly what I want." He proved it with his mouth, his hands, his whole body. He worshipped her until she was crying out his name, until she'd forgotten every doubt her ex-husband had planted in her mind.
When he finally entered her, Sandra wrapped herself around him like she was drowning and he was the shore. She was wet and tight and impossibly good, her body welcoming him home.
"Faster," she urged. "Harder. Make me feel it."
He gave her everything, driven by ten years of wanting and her small sounds of pleasure. The bed protested beneath them. The headboard knocked against the wall. Neither of them cared.
"I'm going to—" Sandra's voice broke as her orgasm hit, her whole body seizing around him. The sensation pulled him over the edge with her, and he buried himself deep as he came, marking her as his.
They lay tangled together in the aftermath, sticky with sweat and satisfaction. Sandra was smiling—really smiling—for the first time all day.
"Danny can never know about this," she said.
"God, no."
"But maybe..." She traced a finger down his chest. "Maybe when I'm settled in Phoenix. Maybe you could visit?"
Elijah thought about the conference he was missing. The job waiting for him back home. The thousand reasons this was a terrible idea.
"Give me your number," he said. "I'll be there next weekend."
Her smile widened. "Who says shouldn't has to win?"