Praying For An Angel

Chapter 1

The big drops of rain splattered on my windshield as my windshield wipers "shoop-shooped" back and forth, slightly out of time with the song on the radio. I rubbed above my left eye, a migraine coming on. I looked in my rearview mirror, half-expecting to see my boyfriend's big green truck following behind me. Kyle and I had had another fight, and this time, I wasn't sure what was going to happen. Whenever we had a fight, he would usually not talk to me for a couple days, and I would usually end up with a bruise somewhere on me, but always where no one else could see. I know it's not right, but I was scared of what would happen if I left Kyle. He's a ranch owner down here in Georgia, and him being 6 foot 6 and possessive as hell, I don't exactly have a chance against him. I know he's dangerous, but when you're so scared of someone that you'd rather let them hit you instead of you trying to leave, you are just kind of stuck.

I turned into Mike's Garage, a mechanic shop here in town. I needed to get my tires rotated before I went into work and then drove home tonight at 1am. I parked my car under the carport, got out, and pulled my baseball cap down over my head and ran through the rain into the shop.

The doorbell rang as I opened the door, and I stomped my feet on the rug to kick off any mud and water. "Kin I help ya'?" I looked up and met the blue eyes of a tall man, who was covered in wet clothes and oil. "Um, yeah. I wanted to ask about getting my tires rotated please?" The man nodded and started writing on a receipt. "Ya know, ya ain't got to say please." He looked up at me and half smiled, and I half smiled back. "Well, I just didn't wanna seem pushy." He chuckled and continued writing. "That yours?" He asked, pointing out the window at my little blue Ford focus. "Yup!! That's my Stella!" He gave me a look and went back to writing on the receipt, laughing. "What is it with you women and naming your cars?" I just laughed- the fact that I had named my car was kind of crazy. He looked back up at me, "Name?" "Mine or the car?" He laughed again, a deep, almost gravely sound that resonated throughout the small room. "Yours." "Samantha Timmons, Sam for short." "Ok, and address?" "Umm...hang on." I dug around my black purse that hung at my side to get a piece of paper. "Ok. 76892 Chesser Road Waynesville, 56798." He nodded as he wrote it down. "Number?" "904-403-8629". "Ok, thanks. I should have it done in about 30 minutes Sam." Thanks, umm?" I stuck my hand out to shake the mans  hand, remembered that I hadn't gotten his name. "Daryl," he said, wiping his hand off on his jeans before shaking mine, "Dixon. Daryl Dixon. If ya need anything, just ring this bell." he said as he pointed to the silver service bell on the wood counter. I nodded and handed him my car keys, and he walked through the door leading to the garage.

The 30 minutes passed by quick, and I was glad they did. I had to get to work at 5, and it was 4:35 now. When Daryl came walking back through the door behind the counter, I got up and met him there. He punched some numbers in the register and said, "That'll be $45 even." I dug through my purse once again and retrieved my wallet and handed him the cash, all in ones. "Sorry about that, all the cash I have on me is from my tips." He quickly looked back down at counter and started counting the money, then it clicked in my head. "Oh gosh! No! That came out wrong!! I'm not a stripper!!" He looked up me, those blue eyes filled with amusement staring into my green ones. "I'm a bartender, I work at O'Reillys, and I worked last night and got all my tips in ones." He laughed out loud, shook his head and continued counting the money. "Well Sam, I didn't figure you for a stripper, but a man can never be too sure 'round here." He cut his eyes up at me, grinning as he did.

My phone started ringing in my purse, and as I started to search for it Daryl asked handed me my receipt and asked me "Not from around here are you?" I glanced at the screen, it was Kyle. After how he blew up at me last night, anything he had to say could wait. "Huh? Oh, yeah. I just moved here from Savannah." I glanced down at my phone again, the screen telling me I had 10 minutes to get to work. "Shit! I gotta go, sorry! Duty calls!" Daryl nodded as I ran out the door and through the rain to my car. I hopped in a started the engine, buckled up and drove through the small town to O'Reilly's bar.