Kathleen's voice echoed in her head. Cowgirl up.
"Shut up." But Vanessa listened to the voice, got out of the Porsche and nearly toppled over as her four-inch heels sank into the dirt shoulder. Vanessa held on to the top of the car as she made her way to the trunk and began pawing through the contents, looking for something appropriate to wear. A single Nike, buried under a pile of silk blouses and a jog bra gave her hope. She kept going, found a wrinkled green tee, black leggings and a pair of athletic socks in another bag. She really had to figure out how to pack before going back to San Antonio. In a third bag she found the other Nike. At least she'd look semi-put together.
Vanessa looked in either direction, saw no dust trail or mid-day stars signaling sunlight bouncing off a windshield and whipped off the pants and blouse. She pulled the tee on first - no need to get caught on the side of the road in her bra and panties - and then sat on the hood to take off the McQueens. She jumped when her bare feet hit rough pavement and hurried to pull socks over her feet. A few seconds later, fully dressed, she was ready for the walk back to town.
In the distance sunlight glinted off a windshield and a few minutes later a large, black truck with the Witte brand emblazoned on the side pulled to a stop, dwarfing her sports car. Vanessa sighed. Just her luck she'd be found helpless on the side of the road by Mat.
She pasted a smile on her face, and wished for her armor back. She could deal with Mat in heels and silk. In leggings and Nikes? Coal-black eyes that seemed to see right through her looked from Vanessa to the flat as a pancake tire and he smiled. Mat ran one hand through his hair and put on his cowboy hat.
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