He lifted the tire out of the well it was sitting in, then removed the jack.
“I was going to try and do it myself,” I said. “I don’t want you to think I’m some princess waiting on the side of the road for some knight to come by and rescue me.”
“Got it,” he grunted.
“I just didn’t think I could manage…”
“It’d be pretty hard in those shoes.”
I glanced down at my stilettos. My now snow-soaked, ruined Jimmy Choos. I folded my winter coat around me and tried not to think about how cold my feet were.
He got out the tire iron and instinctively I took another step back, but all he did was bring it to the side of the car. He fitted the jack in place and used the tire iron to lift the car up. Then he cursed and reversed the jack until the car was once again settled on the ground.
“What’s the matter?”
“Forgot to loosen the lug nuts first. Been a while since I changed a tire, truth be told.”
“Swell,” I muttered. I couldn’t be rescued by a professional tire-changing knight?
“Run flats,” he explained, pointing back to his car.
“Smart,” I nodded. “I didn’t have much choice at the airport, as late as it is. Speaking of late…what brings you out here on a snowy night after…” I checked my Apple watch, “…ten?”
“Oh, just out looking for defenseless woman stranded on the side of the road. You see any of those in your travels?”
I made a face he couldn’t see. “You’re a riot. Look, I’m not crazy, okay? I’m cautious.”
“Sorry. You must not be from around here. We don’t get a lot of serial killers in Salt Springs.”
I laughed at that. “Oh, I’m from around here. It’s just been a while. Where I come from strangers don’t just help people out of the goodness of their heart.”
“Sorry to hear that.”
“Who did you say you were?”
“I didn’t. Name’s Paul. That’s just me introducing myself to you. I’m not trying to humanize myself or anything.”
“Can you just…” I said, pointing to the tire.
“Yes, ma’am.”
I watched as he put the tire iron on the lug nut and shoved. Then pushed. Then pulled. Then pushed again. He made a noise and stepped back. He removed the round part of the tire iron and secured it over a different nut.
“Mother!” he exclaimed after more grunting.
“What?” I asked. “Is something wrong?”
“These fuckers…sorry, nuts…are on tight.”
Cautiously, I got a little closer in case this was a trap, but even from a few feet away I could see he couldn’t get any leverage in the snow. So it was all arm muscle. From here his biceps looked sufficiently impressive, but clearly they couldn’t get the job done.
He backed off, looked at the tire like he was now engaged in mortal combat, and tried again. More grunting. More cursing.
No result.
“Are you putting me on?” I asked him. “Is this like some kind of humble country boy routine? Because I promise you, I’m not impressed. You know what would impress me? Changing the tire.”
He glared at me then. “It’s late. It’s snowing. You’ve been as nice as a fucking porcupine while I’m trying to do this. Do you seriously think I’m faking?”
