Violets in February by Clare Revell

He flipped it open and offered the pack to her.
    She shook her head. “No, thanks.” The pain in her knee reached new heights. Her stomach churned, and she swallowed hard.
    Jed shrugged. He pulled a cigarette out with his teeth and tossed the pack back, pushing the glove box shut. He lit up and inhaled deeply.
    “That will kill you,” she chided.
    His only reaction was to blow a cloud of smoke at her.
    She coughed and waved a hand to clear it.
    He laughed, transferring the cigarette to the hand by the window. “Better?”
    She closed her eyes as the truck lurched again. “I think your suspension is going.”
    “Think?”
    She groaned. This was going to be a very long day. Assuming she lasted that long. “Can you use more than one word at a time while driving?”
    He tilted his head for a moment. “Nope.”
    “Great.” Lucy sucked in a deep breath, her stomach churning. With all that was going on, and her fighting so much over leaving, she hadn’t asked for the travel meds. “Pull over.”
    Jed glared at her. “No.”
    She swallowed hard, bile rising fast. “Pull over or I throw up in your truck.”
    Jed slammed on the brakes, forcing her against the seatbelt. He turned the music up full blast.
    Lucy flung open the door and leaned out as far as she could. Pain, plus motion sickness, wasn’t a good combination. She heaved over and over. Finally, she leaned back in the seat.
    “Better?”
    She nodded, holding one hand against her stomach, sucking in several deep breaths.
    “Goodo.” He slammed the truck into gear, setting off again.
    Lucy groaned as the road got worse. She hung onto the seat with one hand, pressing her stomach with the other, and praying the nausea would ease. But she only managed five minutes before she had to ask Jed to stop again. The next half hour was just as miserable. After the fifth time of her asking, Jed didn’t even bother to hide the sigh of displeasure as he stopped.
    Leaning back into her seat, exhausted, Lucy looked at him. “What? I can’t help it.”
    “Women,” he muttered.
    “I said all along I didn’t want to come in your truck…”
    “Ute,” he corrected.
    “Whatever you call it. I get travel sick going five miles in a car on a tarmac road if I’m not driving. Never mind this.”
    Jed thumped the steering wheel with both hands, setting off the horn. He swore. “Car sick? Are you having me on?”
    Lucy pressed her hand to her mouth, swallowing hard. The urge to throw up eased. “No, I’m not. And please don’t swear. Or I might just throw up on you.”
    He scowled. “Throw up in my Ute, and I’ll teach you swear words you didn’t know existed.”
    She shut her eyes. “Can I at least have the window open more than a crack? The smoke isn’t helping.”
    He stubbed out the cigarette. “Sure.”
    Lucy cranked open the window, twisted to face it, and sucked in a deep breath.
    “Would there be anything to help in the box of meds they gave me?”
    “Might be. It’ll be in a red box if there is.”
    He opened his door and leapt out. Moving to the back of the truck, he started rummaging through the crate. “How’s your pain level?”
    “Bad.”
    “How bad is bad?”
    Lucy bit her lip and rubbed a sleeve over her eyes, glad he couldn’t see her. If she were honest, she no longer knew what to do with herself. She wanted this whole nightmare over.
    Please, God, get me out of here…
    She opened her eyes and jumped. Jed stood right there, studying her.
    “Pretty bad, then,” he said, his voice gentler than it had been. “Crikey, woman, why didn’t you say something?”
    “I didn’t want to be a burden. It made you mad to bring me anyway. And I don’t need mollycoddling.” She wrapped her arms tightly across her middle, wishing fervently she hadn’t been made to come. She had no idea what God was thinking, leaving her alone with this uncouth man for so long. Although, she had to admit, he did clean up well.
    He heaved a sigh. “Don’t you come the