Once he was sure I was safely ensconced in the truck with my Dusty’s bags on the floor in front of me, he closed the door and went around to the driver’s side.
He climbed in and peered at me.
“What?” I asked.
“You look like a hood ornament.”
“Mean,” I muttered.
His chuckle was low, and it made my stomach flip.
Maybe I did have a head injury. Why else would I be having a physical reaction to a man I’d just met?
“Shouldn’t I call for a tow truck?” I asked.
“Service is shit out here,” he said. “We’ll call when we get to The Regal Beagle.”
He started the truck, tires peeling out lightly on the soft dirt as he pulled up and off the side of the road.
I braced myself, but the truck righted itself easily.
“You were lucky,” he said after a few moments of silence.
“Hmm? Lucky? No, I don’t think so. I wound up in a ditch.”
“But you weren’t hurt. And you didn’t have to sleep in the car or attempt to trek your way up the road to The Regal Beagle at night. You got bear spray?”
“What?” I screeched.
“Bear spray,” he repeated. “You don’t want to be caught out here without some form of protection.”
“No, I don’t have bear spray. You don’t need bear spray in the city.”
“Don’t you?” He snorted. “To be fair, it’s mountain lions you really need to worry about. You see one, you raise your arms, you get as big as you can, and you tell it to go away.”
“Oh God, what have I done?” I moaned.
“Please don’t cry again.”
“I’m not gonna cry,” I stated as I attempted to suck emotion back into my body.
“So, you’re not from here.”
“No.” I sighed. “I’m from New York.”
“Long way from home,” he murmured.
“Yeah.”
“What are you doing here? Vacation?”
“Yeah, a vacation from my life.”
“Breakup?”
I whipped my head around. “Huh?”
“Did you break up with your boyfriend?” He glanced at me quickly before turning his eyes back to the road.
