“I can barely drive a golf cart, and you’re trusting me with a big, heavy truck like this?” Lacy asked.

“Yep, I trust you.” Johnny dipped his chin once.

They were still sitting diagonal across the road, so she kept the steering wheel straight and turned it when Johnny said to. Her knuckles ached from the death grip she had on the round plastic. The further she went, the more her shoulders relaxed. Of course, they were topping out at ten miles per hour. She stopped holding her breath, except for during the little slips before she got the truck straight again.

Just when she would’ve called it fun, the vehicle started a slow motion glide toward the water-filled ditch. She jerked the wheel, but it was too late. It actually happened fast, but in her mind, it was a chariots-of-fire race to the trench.

She hadn’t even driven two miles.

When the truck stopped sliding, it rested at an almost forty-five degree angle with the passenger side in the ditch and water coming in under the door.

Wanting to move, but unable to get her body to cooperate, she sat stupefied and terrified. “You still trust me?”

“Famous last words.” He grinned.