Chapter One
Hailey Bryant sighed and slumped back in the seat of her car, which had refused to start, and slowly pulled the ring of keys from the ignition. It was 8:20 and she knew she would be late for work, even if she called a cab. It was the third time in less than a month that she had gotten to work late and she didn't think her boss would be thrilled when she called to say she would be late again.
She and her husband had divorced two years ago and, though he had offered to buy her a new car just last week, Hailey was determined to make it on her own. She and Rob were done, over with, and she didn't want anything from him. She realized that it was simple pride – misplaced pride – that made her turn down Rob's generous offer but she really didn't want anything from him. To accept a car from her former husband would be tantamount to admitting that she couldn't make it without him. It had taken her too long to get away from that self-possessed jerk and she wasn't about to let him know that she couldn't make it without him, when in fact she was going to do it come hell or high water.
She climbed out of the old Chevy and slammed the door, which was a sign of frustration, but she wanted to have the last word. In her way, Hailey was slamming Rob and not the car door. She stamped her feet once and turned and walked to the front door. Mr. Cramer was surely going to have a fit and she would be lucky to have a job by the end of the day.
As she was about to pick up the phone to call in, her eighteen-year-old son walked into the living room, dressed for school. Jason was a high school senior and would be graduating high school in two months. The only concession she had made with her ex husband was that he would pay for Jason's college, something she couldn't do. She couldn't even keep her car running, much less pay for her son's college education.
"Car won't start?"
"No." she sighed and picked up the phone.
"The alternator is fried, mom," he said.
"I'll get one on payday." She looked at her son. "Can you replace it?"
Jason shrugged. "Sure. Jerry and I can do it. It's a piece of cake."
"Ok. I'll give you the money when I get paid Friday." Hailey turned back to the phone. "I hope Mr. Cramer doesn't fire me."
"Why don't you let Jerry drop you at work?"
Hailey stopped just short of dialing the number for work and looked at her son again. Jerry Mason, Jason's oldest friend, drove a motorcycle with a sidecar. It was how the two got to and from school every day and Hailey's brown eyes immediately widened at the thought of her riding in the sidecar of a motorcycle. She burst out laughing as she saw herself seated in the old sidecar, wind blowing through her hair as the contraption motored down the street. She could also see her boss' face when she rode up in it.
"You're kidding, of course."
"Not at all. At least you won't be late. And we'll pick you up after work at four."
Hailey stared at him for a moment without speaking. "But, what about a helmet?"
"I have an extra one in the garage."
"My hair..."
Hailey involuntarily raised a hand and lightly touched her shoulder-length blond hair. It was strait and soft and easy enough to maintain but she wasn't so sure about what it would look like after a wild ride in a motorcycle car.
"Your hair is beautiful, mom," Jason said with a grin. "The helmet will protect it from the wind. Besides, you can run a brush through it once you get to work and it will be beautiful once again."
She made a face. "Don't make fun, Mister."
"I'm not. You are a beautiful woman, mom, and a short ride in a sidecar won't change that. Besides, I've seen your hair messy before and it always looked great." Jason smiled, and then said quickly. "At least you won't be late for work again."
She sighed. "Ok, I'm game."
At that moment, they heard the tinny sound of Jerry's motorcycle horn and Jason handed his mother his helmet. He hurried to the garage, grabbed one that had belonged to his father and met Hailey in the driveway.
"Hey, Mrs. Bryant," Jerry said with a smile.
"Hey, man, mom needs a ride to work" Jason said when he walked up. "The alternator on her car is fried."