Overcome by Annmarie McKenna Page A

anymore.” She glared at the evil iPhone and contemplated chucking it out the window. It could join the peanuts on the lawn since it had killed her orgasm as sure as the nuts would have killed her.
    “Damn it.” Moment gone, Anna worked on getting her breathing and heart rate back to normal. A glance at the clock told her she’d already slept way past her normal wake up time. Time to get her butt outta bed and onto the apartment search.
    She rolled over, swung her feet to the side, and grinned, wondering who would stalk her today. The thought sent a little thrill through her.
    It should have scared the shit out of her.
    With a groan, she stood and picked up her phone. The number that had interrupted her imminent orgasm wasn’t one she recognized. Which pissed her off even more. She tossed the phone on the bed and then shuffled off to the bathroom for a shower. Maybe she could rekindle things there.
    Twenty frustrating minutes later, she gave up. “Never have been able to do a damn thing in the shower.” The towel slapped against the foggy mirror with a thwump, and she wiped it down so she might actually be able to see herself. She succeeded in at least making it a distorted reflection. Kinda, sorta suited her life right now. Not at all clear. At least the bruise on her forehead was fading even more. A bit of makeup and it was almost not noticeable.
    When she’d finally gotten herself together and given herself the pep talk of the century, she got in her car, determined that Thursday would be the day she found a place to live. Otherwise, she was pretty S-O-L. She might find herself living in her car down by the river, so to speak.
    By the time she she’d given up on finding anything within her budget and was ready to beg—though to be honest, she didn’t think she’d have to do more than show up—she got waylaid again. Her tire blew about two miles from her destination. Of course in the middle of nowhere where the only people passing her would be the inhabitants of the lake community, of which there weren’t a whole lot. Not to mention, the subdivision had two entrances, and it would be just her luck everyone would come in from the other direction and miss her completely.
    She’d never had a flat tire in her life. “Par for the freaking current course.” Anna slapped her palms on the steering before lowering her forehead to rest on the backs of her hands. The laugh took her by surprise. Made her laugh even more until tears leaked from her eyes. “Seriously,” she said, wiping her nose, “how does one’s life spiral so quickly out of control?”
    Squeezing the wheel, she tried to convince herself she could handle things. “I can. I can do this. I’m a woman and I can handle a little flat tire.” There had to be directions in the owner’s manual, right? “Directions are good. Directions I can do.”
    After retrieving the book, she flung the door open and stepped away to survey the situation. The rear driver’s side tire had more than flattened; the damn thing lay in shreds. Some on the road, some still hanging on to the wheel in vain.
    “Fuuuudge.” She stomped to the trunk, flipped it open, and stared into the abyss. There had to be a tire somewhere. Her dad had once changed a tire on their old olive green station wagon when she’d been a little girl. She remembered standing on the side of the road holding her mom’s hand, her pigtails flapping in the breeze, while her dad jerked on some kind of pole he’d attached to the nut jobber thingies on the wheel.
    She also remembered her mother covering her ears as her dad created a whole new language Anna had never heard.
    The thought made her smile as she reached into the trunk and lifted the corner of a piece of carpet that seemed to hide something round beneath it.
    And voilà. El sparo tire-o.
    A lifty thingamabob too.
    One of those poles also.
    Anna searched the handbook index for changing a tire, found the page she needed, and read up on how to get