I got out quickly and ran to the front of the car, then I looked over at the truck I had hit head-on. It was an old, classic Ford pickup. It didn’t appear to have a scratch on it, yet the front of my rental car was completely smashed. What a day I was having. At that moment I wanted to call Jerry and tell him that the only way I was going to find my “spark” was if I lit myself on fire.
“Is that your truck?” I said, pointing. I was still shaken and confused.
I looked over at the guy. He began slowly walking toward me. He was tall with longish, sun-bleached hair. His deep green eyes looked concerned. I noticed that he was wearing a black T-shirt with the R. J. Lawson logo on it.
“Are you sure you’re okay? You look like you might be in shock,” he said. I started to sway. He braced me by putting his hands on the outside of my shoulders.
“Do you work here?”
“Yeah, I’m Jamie.” He had a scruffy but defined jawline, and although he was thin, there was something ruggedly strong about him. He had on dark Levi’s and black work boots. The skin on his face was completely flawless. He had darker skin than the typical Chicago white boy I was used to. He evidently spent a lot of time outside. When I looked at his hands, I could tell he used them for work. They looked strong and callused.
“I need to get your information, Jamie.”
His pretty mouth turned up into a lazy smile. “I believe you hit me, so I’ll need your information.” God, he was handsome, and my embarrassment level was increasing by the second.
“Fine.” I stood by the door and pulled a piece of scratch paper from my purse. I quickly scribbled out the information and reached behind me to where Jamie was standing. He took the paper from my hand. I didn’t turn around but I heard a light chuckle from him.
I became even more peeved after realizing my car wasn’t drivable and it was only five minutes until interview time. Damn this world. When I finally turned back toward Jamie, he was flashing a stupid, smug grin.
“What?” I said to him with as pointed a look as I could muster.
“You’re Jerry Evans?”
“Yeah, so what.”
“Well, when we spoke on the phone this morning your voice was quite a bit deeper.”
“That’s all the information you need, although it doesn’t look to me like your truck will need any repairs. I’m sorry I hit you, okay? I just don’t drive very much and I’m running very, very late for my interview with R. J. Lawson.”
“Oh, you’re the reporter?”
“I’m the journalist, yes.”
“Well, you better march your little tail up there. R.J. gets really pissy when people are late.”
I huffed and then began pulling my suitcase out of the trunk. Jamie stayed firmly planted where he was, still wearing a silly grin.
“Hey, Jerry, do you want a ride? I don’t think this car is going to get you too far.” I leaned around his truck to take in the view of the very long treelined driveway up to the winery buildings. It was a twenty-minute walk at least.
“My name is Kate . . .” I fumbled for words and then in a shaky voice said, “and . . . yes.”
“Yes to what, Katy?” He cocked his head to the side and arched his eyebrows. “You want me to give you a ride up the driveway? Is that how you ask nicely?”
“Again, my name is Kate, not Katy, and yes please, if you would be so kind to give me a ride, I would greatly appreciate it.”
He paused, looked me up and down, and then looked up to the sky and began scratching his chin like he was making the decision of a lifetime.
“Hmm . . . okay, Katy, I think I will. Actually, it would be my pleasure to give you a ride up the driveway, even though you almost killed me today.” I finally gave in and had to laugh at the situation.
Jamie managed to move my rental car off the road. I watched his arms flexing as he pushed. His right arm was completely covered in tribal tattoos. Not the typical kind you find on the walls of a tattoo parlor, but unique, almost jagged-looking, and some were a red-orange color. He was very attractive and seemed strong and capable. I wondered what he did at the winery, but my thoughts were interrupted. When I reached his truck to get in, I noticed a chocolate Lab sitting perfectly upright in the passenger seat, wearing a seat belt.
“That’s Chelsea. You’re gonna have to get in over here and sit in the middle ’cause that’s her spot.”
I walked around to the driver’s side and smiled at him before hopping in. “She wears a seat belt?” I said, laughing.
“Yes, and it’s a good thing she does, otherwise she would have gone flying right through that window when you slammed your car into us.”
“I said I’m sorry.” I sounded a bit whiny.
He got into the driver’s seat, started the truck, and patted my leg. “I’m just teasing you.”
I couldn’t remember the last time someone touched my leg like that. Normally, that would have made me feel extremely uncomfortable. I was already sitting against him, a complete stranger whom I had just hit with my car, but there was something about his demeanor that made me feel at ease, aside from the fact that he smelled strongly of alcohol. There was an overwhelmingly potent scent of wine in the air. “Have you been drinking?”