ée Carlino - Nowhere but Here

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?”

He reached down and lifted his shirt to sniff it.

“Curious Katy, the reporter who’s first on all the breaking news.” He paused and shot me a self-satisfied smirk. “I work at a winery, cutie. I was cleaning the barrels today.” He pointed his thumb out the back window of the truck. I turned and spotted three wooden wine barrels strapped into the bed of the truck.

I shook my head and rolled my eyes at myself. Really, could I embarrass myself any more today? I hadn’t even met R. J. Lawson yet, but I was ready to throw in the towel.

“Where were you headed when I hit you?”

“Just a quick run into town for supplies.”

“I thought people in California were more environmentally conscious. Aren’t these old trucks gas hogs and horrible polluters?”

Looking straight out the window, he smiled. “I converted the engine. It runs on biofuel.”

“What’s that?”

“Donut grease. Zero pollution, and I get the fuel for free from the local bakery.”

“You’re kidding?”

He just shook his head.

Chelsea was staring out the front window. When I turned to look at her, she turned as well and looked me directly in the eye. “Hey,” I said. I fully expected her to respond, but instead she nonchalantly looked away and continued gazing out the window.

“She’s like a person.”

“Yep, she’s my girl.”

I smiled at him and then he pinched my thigh.

“Hey!”

“Hey, yourself. We made it. I’ll drop you here.” He pointed out the window to a building. “There’s R.J.’s office. Don’t be too nervous, the guy’s a douche to everyone.”

I laughed. “Thanks.” He helped me out of the truck and pulled my suitcase from the back. When I reached for it, he held on to the handle. My hand landed over his, but instead of pulling it away, for some reason I held it there. I ran my fingers over his callused knuckles and then I looked up at him. He was looking right at me, squinting slightly, like he was trying to read my expression. He moved closer and then leaned in farther, wearing a small, sincere smile. When he closed the gap between us, I could feel the heat radiating from both our bodies as he bent down toward my face. I thought he has going to kiss me—and then he did, just like that, though it was just a small peck on the cheek. His fingertips rested on my other cheek. His lips lingered there for a few seconds and then I heard him inhale deeply. He pulled away a few inches and then smiled. His eyes looked roused with curiosity and something else. Desire, maybe. “I told you, don’t be nervous. It’ll be okay.” His voice was smooth.

I was completely frozen. I couldn’t have pulled away if I wanted to. My hands were tingling. I was trembling while we stood there, staring at each other for several moments. I cleared my throat and then, just above a whisper, said, “I’m so sorry for hitting you.”

He shook his head back and forth slowly, never taking his eyes off mine. “Don’t worry about it. How long are you gonna be here for?”

“Oh.” My heart started thumping like it was going to give out. Is he going to ask me out? Holy crap. “Um . . . I’ll be here until Friday at least, but . . . I have a boyfriend.”

“I was going to offer to show you around the winery in case R.J. doesn’t have the time.”

“Oh.” Yet another embarrassing moment to add to my apocalyptic day. “Well, then yes, that would be great.”

He smiled all the way to his eyes, “Okay, Katy the Reporter with a Boyfriend. I’ll see you around.” He turned to walk toward his truck.

“It’s Kate, and I’m a journalist.”

When he pulled away, he leaned out the window and waved. “Good luck, beautiful girl. You’ll do great.” My knees buckled. I braced myself against the railing outside of the building. My nerves were in overdrive, but not because of my interview with Lawson. I was feeling something I’d never felt before. And I was feeling it for a guy I had just met.

I took a moment to collect myself and take in my surroundings. All of the winery buildings were clustered at the top of the long treelined driveway. Each section looked as though it had been recently renovated. The Craftsman architecture gave the buildings a rustic, lodgelike feel. On the left, there was the bed-and-breakfast, a large three-story house with intricate stained-glass windows and a heavy oak door displaying a complex design of intertwining wooden vines. The sign outside read Together We Bring the Warmth. Even in the afternoon, with the sun blazing low in the sky, I could see an orange glow from the outdoor wall sconces and the mica path lights, which exuded a cozy friendliness. Situated to the right of the bed-and-breakfast was a smaller structure, similar in design, with a sign indicating that it housed the tasting room and restaurant. In the distance, behind the restaurant, I could see what looked like a large warehouse, which I assumed was where the wine was made, and next to it was a red barn that could have been taken right off of a Wyoming cattle ranch.