Amber Dan-Dwayne Spencer (romantic books to read .txt) 📖

be twenty minutes, sirens tore through the dark moonless night. Cars stopped on each side of the wreck. Bystanders from the stopped traffic lined the road, watching me pound Dave’s chest and blow into his lungs. He moved. His shoulder twitched. I leaned him over onto his side and slapped his back, hard. It worked. He coughed, spit, and vomited. I wiped his mouth with the tail of Jimmy’s western shirt. In a moment, he feebly pushed me away; coughed up more watery gunk; then gasped. He lay back on the muddy bank and struggled for one breath after another.

I felt helpless when he reached for me; all he managed to touch was my elbow. He gripped it as hard as he could, like he was holding onto life itself. I looked around at the small crowd gathering along the edge of the pavement. They all started clapping. Some of them whistled and cheered a western yahoo. The emergency ambulance driver and the emergency medical technicians pushed through the gawking onlookers and began taking Dave’s vital signs. A second uniformed responder grabbed me and snapped a blood pressure cuff around my arm. I uncontrollably dripped slime on his white oxfords.

“Sit down,” he commanded.

“I’m fine!” I shouted as I planted my butt onto the dirt between the playa and the road, I figured there was no way I could get dirtier. I was wrong. “I’m not injured, I just look like a mud monster because I pulled him out of the playa.” The slime mixed with the dirt made a sticky clay that clung to my legs and seat.

He pumped the bulb attached to the blood pressure cuff and studied his wristwatch. “Your pulse is a little elevated, but after all this excitement, I guess that’s to be expected.” His professionalism vanished. “Alright, mud monster, where did you learn CPR?”

“Back home, I took classes at the community pool where I work part-time as a lifeguard. I guess they finally came in handy.”

The responder was all smiles as he said, “You saved this guy’s life, good work.” Taking his blood pressure gadget with him, he went to his partner, who promptly buckled Dave onto a gurney.

Roger ran by me, giggled, and threw a handful of dirt over me as he raced up the bank to where Jimmy stood by the Mustang. I yelled, “Dumb-ass prick.” I was tired and in no mood for the childish pranks Roger indulged in.

Grumbling, I stood and headed toward the car, scraping mud off as I went. When I reached the road, a pickup truck marked Sheriff pulled up. Blanket in hand, he saw me coming and intercepted me halfway up the incline. He flung the blanket around my gooey shoulders and walked me to the Ford truck he used as his official vehicle.

“Where were you guys headin’ before you ran upon this wreck?” he asked.

I took one look at the Sheriff and knew he was trouble. Had my parents called the police and demanded they put out an all-points-bulletin for us? I couldn’t tell this officer the truth or our trip would be nixed. I lied as smoothly as I could, “My brothers and I are heading up to New York to visit our Grandma Fergie.” I purposely used the name of Roger’s grandmother. My folks never talk about my granny. I don’t even know her first name. I wanted to play it safe because there was no telling what this Kansas version of Dudley Do-Right might ask the others.

He reached into the cab and pulled out a thermos. “You drink coffee?”

I nodded.

“Great. Here, have a cup. This will warm you up a bit.” Unscrewing the top and using it for a cup, he handed it to me.

I have to admit the coffee was good.

“Sit here on my tailgate and rest a spell.” He gave me a disarming smile. “You deserve it. From what I gather, you’re the hero of the evening.”

“If you say so,” I replied.

He headed toward the Mustang, Jimmy, and Roger. I waved and caught Jimmy’s attention, I only had time to mouth one word—brother—before the sheriff started chatting up my friends.

“I’ve been talking to your friend over there,” the Sheriff said, pointing back at me with one hand and picked something from his teeth with the other.

Apprehensively, I waved back. After all, they were in earshot and I could make out every word.

Jimmy nodded my direction and lied smoother than silk, “These guys are my brothers. My friends wouldn’t be caught dead hanging out with them.”

“Oh? Well, where’re you guys heading?”

Jimmy looked my way. I nodded, and he answered, “New York, we’re on our way to New York.” At least that much was the truth.

The officer put his hand on Roger’s shoulder and casually asked, “Son, what’s your Granny’s name?”

Roger replied with the speedy enthusiasm I expected, “Fergie.” He stopped and looked up, puzzled. “Why’re you asking? You collecting names of Grannies or something?”

The Sheriff twisted his neck until it loudly cracked before he laughed. “No, son. I ain’t collecting names of Grannies.” He looked at Jimmy and chuckled, “Your little brother is funny as hell.”

Jimmy responded in character, “Yeah, you should try living with him. He’s a regular Jerry Lewis.”

“So, you guys are heading to New York to see your granny?”

I nodded at Jimmy.

“Yeah. It’s not against the law to visit our Granny is it?” Jimmy’s question came across more like an accusation.

“No… no, it’s not. I was wondering why you just happened to be coming up this road on your way to New York. That seems a bit out of your way. I’d think you would want to stay on the major highways to get there faster.” He scratched his chin. “I mean, you were coming from Oklahoma,”—he pointed at the plates on the Mustang—“and from what I can tell