Her CEO Stalker and Her Second Chance Mate (Adelaide) novel Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Chapter 17

Adelaide

Uncle Jake’s cleaning supplies were slim but I made the jugs of vinegar and ammonia work for their appointed uses. My mirrors were streak free and my counters and utensils were cleaned with vinegar; a natural disinfectant. I washed my clothes in the pond with a bar of soap as best I could and hung them up out back on the line.

Right now, I was fighting with the truck, trying to figure out why it refused to turn over. I wasn’t ready to tackle the bike. Too many emotions collided there. And I’d never ridden on my own, so I was afraid of showing my ass. To whom? My damn self. All afternoon I had been shaking off the feeling of being watched. It was a sensation that came and went since I’d been here, and I attributed it to my paranoia. Creedon had broken something vital inside of me. Trust, not just in those around me, but in myself. Since I arrived here, I was lost somewhere between survival mode and normality.

I had trusted Beck, because he was the right thing at the right place and time. I was sorry for using him, but he didn’t seem to mind. The trucker, however, I had manipulated myself into that scenario out of necessity. He seemed like a good man with a thriving family, and I hoped my few hours with him wouldn’t cost him his life. All of these thoughts ran through my head, as I loosened the drain plug, to allow the old oil to drain into the pan. There was only so much I knew how to do to fix this dinosaur of a vehicle, and I was trying everything I already

knew how to do, before I was forced to walk my way into town out of survival.

In the past, I never let fate rule me, not for my social standing or anything else. Lately,

however, I felt like I was being herded by fate and I couldn’t figure out if I was pissed or if I

liked it. Some things fell into place, while others, like this blasted truck, insisted on trying my

everloving patience.

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Chapter 20

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“Fuck this bullshit!” I screamed, kicking the undercarriage of the truck in frustration, when

the nut tumbled from my fingertips. That move had cost me, as pain raced across my ribs, and

made it hard to breathe.

“You need some help there, Miss?” a deep voice asked. My heart hammered in my chest, and I

gripped the screwdriver like a vice, before I rolled out from under the truck ready to fight. My

ribs screamed in protest at the movements, only to see a demigod of a dirty blond, masculine

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