He decelerated for a red light. Deep breath in. Time to go.

She lunged over the headrest. Her foot caught his sunglasses, and she used the leverage pushing toward the passenger door.

The man cursed and grabbed her calf. The truck skidded. A thunder started from the depths of her lungs and blazed past her raw throat. An adrenaline blast pushed her, and she launched away, her hand clawing at the door handle, the window button, anything to get an outsider’s attention.

He still had hold on her leg, and she kicked, connecting with his face. Maybe his chin. Definitely his shoulder.

He cursed again. “Seriously, woman?”

Her free leg caught in the steering wheel, turning their trajectory. The truck jumped, then rocked back and forth. Mia’s forehead hit the front console. She lost her bearings, and stars exploded in her head. He let go of her and slammed on the brakes. She fell forward again. Her eyes watered instantaneously. She crumpled shoulders-first on the floorboards.

“What in God’s name do you think you’re doing?” He was angry. She would’ve said he roared at her, but roaring would have been an understatement.

She turned to see his face and watched him check his rearview and side mirrors, then put the truck in park. A deep breath later, he looked down at her, still on the floorboard, and glared.

They had run off the road. Where was the neighborhood watch? A helpful cop?

He turned the radio off. The only noise was the hum of the air conditioning and the tap, tap, tap of his fingers drumming on the steering wheel. The floorboard was uncomfortable. The ridges of the plastic floor mat dug into her shoulder and elbow. She was eye level with a cigarette lighter knob and the new-car scent air freshener tied to it. The little pine tree with the rental company logo on it spun one direction, then the next, mocking her inability to move.

From her grounded position, the man above looked solid as a boulder. His long legs worked to tuck under the raised steering column. His slouch, more relaxed than poor posture, didn’t hide the muscles in his broad chest and stomach. His tight cotton shirt did little to obscure his brawn. She saw the sinew in his neck, and…was that restraint tightening his jaw?

This maneuver had been the wrong tactic. Mia rushed to dry her watering eyes and scoot off the floor, but she was at an awkward angle, with her feet splayed in different directions, and her shoulder jammed between the console and seat. She couldn’t reach the door handle, and she couldn’t get up.

Oh, no. Claustrophobia grabbed her lungs and squeezed, driving her into a blood-pounding anxiety fit. She thrashed and kicked, shoving away from him, and pushed further into her console crevice, without a way to escape.

“You stuck down there?” This time the roar was gone, replaced by the tickle of amusement.

She wiped enough tears away to see his lips were upturned into a grin. Her face felt hot. She tried again to right herself, arms and legs churning in place, and failed in immaculate style. If she lived to tell about this, it would be the worst and most embarrassing day of her life.