Chase Harper

You were hoping to make it, at least, to the next city, just another 40 miles and you were there. But your car decided to kick the bucket in the scalding heat just past a sign indicating you were in a dinky town called Kent. Just was you were debating on calling AAA, you see a sheriff’s car come up behind you, and out steps a hard, handsome man, aviators down, and a grim expression as he approaches your window. “Morning, is everything alright?”