Page 4 of Loving Hard on the Highway

I stepped forward. “Um, yeah.”

From the corner of my eye, I saw Gabbie glance my way, then turn as if hiding her face. Okay, she was definitely brushing me off.

“Yeah, I reserved a Lexus. Name’s Sean Iverleigh.”

She typed away. “Ah, yes, I see you worked with Myrtle. You got lucky to get a reservation. I’ll be back with your key and some paperwork for you to sign.”

“No, my name is Gabrielle Jones.” I couldn’t help but overhear Gabbie speaking to the agent. She was trying to keep her frustrated voice low.

My agent came back and showed me where to sign. I signed while listening to Gabbie, who was nearly pleading with the guy on the other side of the counter.

“My friend Evie Shane made the reservation. Maybe it’s under Evelyn Shane. It should be in the notes that I’m picking it up.”

Oh damn! My heart dropped. I stole her reservation.

“I am so sorry, miss.” The agent actually seemed remorseful. “There is nothing here under Evie or Evelyn Shane. And we don’t have any more available cars. We have two cars with reservations left. If they cancel, we can give you one. Or you can wait for a return.”

“I can’t wait. I have to leave now,” she said, planting both hands on her face as if holding in her emotions. “This cannot be happening.”

“You can try the rental company across town,” he suggested, “but with the convention…”

Gabbie let out a moan. “I don’t even have a phone.”

I finished signing my paperwork, and my agent handed me the keys.

“Can you do me a favor?” I asked, keeping my voice low. “Can you see if there are any notes on my reservation?”

“Sure.” She typed something. “Hmm…just that you have another pickup person and an alternate driver. Someone named G Jones.”

We both awkwardly glanced over to Gabbie and her agent, who awkwardly glanced right back at us.

“Did you take my reservation?” she huffed, near tears.

“No… no,” I said defensively. “I made my reservation. There must have been some kind of mix-up.”

“Unbelievable,” she groaned as she grabbed a rolling suitcase and a large backpack that I just noticed. She made a beeline for the door, looking like she might scream, cry, or both.

“Hey, where are you going?” I called after her as she pulled the large glass door open and slung the rolling suitcase out.

She looked back at me, shooting daggers with her eyes. “I’m going to go figure out my fucking life!”

“Give me one second.” I waved to my agent, then followed Gabbie out the door.

She was moving surprisingly fast, given all she was carrying. I did a quick sprint to catch up to her.

“Gabbie, wait.” I called out to her several times, but she ignored me and stormed out of the parking lot. “Maybe you can just get a flight to wherever you’re going.”

“I can’t do that,” she spat and kept going.

“Well, maybe you can rent a car in another town.”

“I’d need a phone to call and have to use a credit card to rent a car,” she groaned, adjusting the backpack as we trekked along the side of the palm tree-lined road.

No phone and no credit card. Did I think that was weird? Sure, but I couldn’t stand to see her like this, walking down the side of the road.

“Gabbie, please, stop. Look, I’m heading to San Francisco. Maybe I can drop you off somewhere.” I was basically pleading with her, but she didn’t stop. “Where are you going?”

“Rosetta, California.”

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