You’re Trouble, Anna

Anna Rivera knew the vacation was doomed the second the air conditioning in her car died. One minute she’d been screaming lyrics to an old rock song with the windows down, sunglasses on, convincing herself this solo road trip was exactly what she needed. The next, smoke curled from beneath the hood of her car somewhere in the middle of a desert highway that looked abandoned by God himself. “Are you kidding me?” she snapped, slamming her palms against the steering wheel. The car answered with silence. Perfect. The sun hung low in the sky, turning everything gold and violent orange. Heat waves shimmered across the empty road ahead, and in every direction there was nothing except sand, dry hills, and miles of dead-looking land. Anna stepped out of the car immediately and regretted it just as fast. The heat wrapped around her like fire. She groaned, pushing dark hair out of her face before yanking her phone from her back pocket. One bar of signal. Two percent battery. “Perfect,” she repeated. This trip had already been a bad idea before the car disaster. Her mother called it irresponsible. Her friends called it “concerning behavior.” Her ex-boyfriend called it dramatic. Anna called it necessary. Because after spending the last two years feeling trapped in the same routines, same people, same miserable relationship, she’d wanted out. Just for one summer. One trip. One reckless decision before real life dragged her back under. So she’d packed a bag, taken the money she’d been saving, and started driving west without much of a plan. Freedom had sounded romantic three days ago. Now it smelled like burning engine oil. A truck eventually appeared nearly forty minutes later. The driver looked about seventy and deeply annoyed to be alive. “You stranded?” he asked unnecessarily. “No, I just enjoy standing in the desert alone.” The old man stared at her. Anna sighed. “Yes. I’m stranded.” By the time he towed her car into the nearest town, the sky had turned dark blue. Blackwater Ridge appeared slowly through the dust — a tiny desert town glowing under flickering neon signs and dim streetlights. It looked frozen in time. Old diners. Empty sidewalks. Rusting gas stations. Faded motel signs buzzing softly in the night. And hanging above all of it was the strangest moon Anna had ever seen. Red. Not bright red. Dark red. Low and heavy in the sky like something unreal. The tow truck driver noticed her staring. “Red moon tonight,” he muttered. Anna glanced at him. “That normal?” “Nothing’s normal in Blackwater.” Great. Exactly what every stranded woman wanted to hear. The mechanic shop sat beside an old gas station near the edge of town. A tired-looking man checked Anna’s car while chewing gum loud enough to drive her insane. Finally, he wiped grease off his hands and looked at her. “Radiator’s shot.” “How long?” “Few days.” Anna laughed once in disbelief. “You’re joking.” “Nope.” “Can’t you just fix it tomorrow?” “Lady, I got six cars ahead of you.” She closed her eyes briefly. Fantastic. “So where exactly am I supposed to stay?” The mechanic pointed lazily across the road. A neon motel sign glowed red against the dark. MORETTI MOTEL Something about it looked… off. Not dangerous exactly. Just isolated. The kind of place people passed through instead of stayed in. Anna grabbed her bag from the car. “Try not to get murdered,” the mechanic called after her. She turned slowly. “You people are weird.” The motel parking lot was nearly empty except for a black truck parked beneath the flickering sign. The office lights were still on. Anna pushed through the glass door, immediately hit with cold air and the scent of cigarettes and cedarwood. A man stood behind the front desk writing something down. He looked up. And suddenly the room felt smaller. Anna noticed stupid details first. Dark hair. Rolled sleeves exposing tattooed forearms. Broad shoulders. Strong hands. Older. Definitely older. Not old. But older enough to make her instantly aware of herself in a way she didn’t appreciate. His eyes settled on her calmly, slowly, like he was trying to figure out exactly what kind of trouble she was. Neither spoke for a second. Then— “You need a room?” His voice was low and rough around the edges. Anna blinked once before forcing herself to recover. “Depends,” she said. “Are there bugs?” One corner of his mouth lifted slightly. “Only the paying customers.” Okay. That almost made her smile. Almost. “I’ll survive then.” He set his pen down carefully. “How long?” “Hopefully one night. Realistically? Apparently my car has decided to ruin my life.” “Bad timing.” “Tell me about it.” The man reached beneath the counter for a key. “You passing through?” Anna leaned against the counter slightly. “Why? You profiling me?” His eyes flicked over her face again briefly. “Just making conversation.” “You don’t seem like the conversation type.” That earned her another tiny almost-smile. “I’m not.” She hated how attractive that confidence was. “What’s your name?” she asked. “Ben.” Of course it was. A man who looked like that was obviously named Ben. Simple. Dangerous. Annoyingly attractive. Anna slid her ID across the counter. “Anna.” Ben glanced down at it before looking back at her. “Room twelve,” he said. “Upstairs.” She took the key from his hand carefully. His fingers brushed hers for barely half a second. Still enough to send heat up her arm unexpectedly. Annoying. “So,” Anna said casually, “you own this place?” “Yeah.” “You always look this happy about it?” His gaze stayed on hers. “You always ask this many questions?” Touché. Anna narrowed her eyes slightly. Ben looked entirely too calm under pressure. Like nothing rattled him. She already wanted to. “You got food around here?” she asked. “Diner down the street stays open late.” “Good.” Ben nodded once toward the staircase outside. “Try not to slam the door. The frame sticks.” “Anything else?” His eyes dragged briefly toward her ripped jeans before lifting again. “Lock it.” For some reason, the way he said that made her stomach tighten. Anna grabbed her bag and headed upstairs without another word. But she could still feel him watching her. The room itself wasn’t terrible. Old, but clean. A small television sat across from the bed, humming softly beneath dim yellow lighting. The curtains smelled faintly like dust and heat. Anna dropped her bag onto the mattress before collapsing beside it dramatically. “What a vacation,” she muttered. She should’ve been miserable. Instead, weirdly, she felt awake for the first time in months. Maybe it was the town. Maybe it was the strange red moon outside. Maybe it was the motel owner with dark eyes and tattooed hands. No. Absolutely not that. Anna grabbed her phone and plugged it into the charger beside the bed. Three missed texts from her mother. Two from her best friend. One from Caleb. She ignored Caleb immediately. Her ex had spent the last six months trying to convince her getting back together was “the mature choice.” Anna would rather eat glass. She showered quickly, changed into shorts and an oversized t-shirt, then headed toward the diner because hunger eventually outweighed exhaustion. Blackwater Ridge looked eerie at night. Quiet in the wrong way. The neon signs buzzed softly while old music drifted from somewhere distant. Warm wind moved through the empty streets carrying dust and cigarette smoke. The diner sat glowing at the corner of the road. Inside, old rock music played low through speakers overhead. A waitress with silver hair handed Anna a menu. “You new here?” “Is it that obvious?” “You’ve got city written all over you.” Anna laughed softly. “That bad?” “Depends who you ask.” The waitress poured coffee into a chipped mug. “You staying at Moretti’s place?” Anna looked up immediately. “Yeah.” The woman’s eyebrows lifted slightly. Interesting. “What?” Anna asked. “Nothing.” “That’s definitely not nothing.” The waitress leaned closer slightly. “Ben Moretti keeps to himself.” “Okay?” “And Blackwater talks.” Anna sipped coffee slowly. “About him?” The woman shrugged. “People say a lot of things.” That immediately made Anna more curious. “Like what?” “Like he came here running from something.” Before Anna could ask another question, the diner door opened. Ben walked in. And somehow the entire atmosphere shifted. People noticed him instantly. Not fear exactly. But awareness. Ben spotted Anna sitting at the counter. His expression didn’t change. Still calm. Still unreadable. Still unfairly attractive. He walked toward the back booth without speaking to anyone. The waitress straightened slightly. “You know him well?” Anna asked quietly. “Long enough.” “That sounds ominous.” “Just don’t confuse lonely with harmless.” Anna glanced toward Ben again. He sat alone in the corner booth, one arm resting lazily across the seat while he read something on his phone. He looked like he belonged in another life entirely. Not a dusty desert town. Not a roadside motel. Anna hated that she wanted to know more. Ben looked up suddenly. Caught her staring immediately. And instead of looking away— He held her gaze. Calm. Steady. Intentional. Heat rushed up Anna’s neck. So she did the mature thing. She flipped him off beneath the counter. For the first time all night, Ben actually smiled.