My breath catches, not because I’m still panicking, but because he’s smiling now.Reallysmiling, all slow and relaxed, with just enough mischief to make me forget I almost ran him down.
“American?”
“From Kentucky,” I confirm, finally finding my normal voice. “Land of bourbon, horses, and people who don’t drive on the left side of the road.”
“Bourbon country? Well now, that’s a topic worth exploring.” He lets his engine idle as he shifts his body to face me more. “Pity we can’t have this conversation over a proper dram.”
My heart skips. Is he flirting with me?
But before I can respond with something coherent, a car horn blares behind him. The spell breaks, and suddenly, I’m acutely aware we’re having this conversation in the middle of the road.
The handsome stranger glances in his rearview mirror and sighs, running a hand through that perfectly disheveled hair. “Seems we’re causing a bit of a traffic jam. I should probably get a move on.”
“Of course. Again, I’m so sorry,” I apologize, my voice steadier than I feel. “I’ll, uh…make sure I’m on the correct side this time.”
His eyes linger on mine for a moment longer than necessary. “Mmm, that would be advisable, though I’m not opposed to seeing you again under less…precarious circumstances.”
Another horn blasts, blaring longer this time, followed by a muffled Scottish curse from one of the waiting drivers.
“I think that’s my cue,” he says with a smirk. “Left side. Remember that.”
He gives me a quick two-fingered salute before rolling up his window and pulling away, leaving me to sit there with my mouth ajar and my brain scrambling to process what just happened.
I watch his truck disappear down the road, my heart still racing, though I’m not sure if it’s from my poor driving skills or the encounter itself. Did a gorgeous Scottish man just flirt with me after I almost crashed into him? And did I actually try to flirt back?
Well, I definitely won’t be telling Aunt Rose about that. She left me alone for less than a minute and I nearly turned her car into scrap metal. Niece of the year. Someone get me a trophy.
I let out a shaky breath, my fingers still gripping the steering wheel like my life depends on it. My heart is pounding so hard I can practically hear it, the adrenaline slowly fading but leaving behind a lingering sense of unease and a little nausea. Who knew driving on the wrong side of the road would be this intense? I’m clearly not cut out for this whole spontaneous exploration thing.
I take another deep breath, forcing my pulse to slow, anddecide right then and there that today isn’t the day for adventures. Nope. Not happening. I’ll head back to the cottage slowly, carefully, and on thecorrectside of the road. No more mishaps. No more near-death experiences. Just me, some hot tea, and the safety of four walls.
As I ease back onto the road, I mutter a new mantra to myself, “Left side, left side, left side.” I repeat the words over and over again so I don’t forget them. At this point, I’m not taking any chances.
eight
KNOX
The troubled American woman seemed pretty shaken up. Can’t say I blame her. Almost flattening a stranger with your car would rattle anyone. Though, in her defense, these roads aren’t exactly forgiving. Not the kind of place you just show up and wing it.
Something about her stuck with me, though. Maybe it was the way she gripped the steering wheel like it was the only thing keeping her tethered to the earth. Or the way she stumbled through her apology, flustered and breathless, that soft American drawl sounding like a melody despite her panic.
Then there was the way her wisps of brunette hair caught the breeze, escaping from her ponytail to dance across her face. She brushed them away with slender fingers, and for some stupid reason, it created this strange little ache that curled low in my chest.
Shaking my head, I pull into the distillery lot, gravel crunching under the tires. First one in, or so I think, right up until I reach the door and find it alreadyunlocked.
“Hey, Boss.” Rose’s bubbly voice echoes through the lobby, catching me off guard. Interesting. She’s already here.
“Hey, Rose,” I greet her with a nod. “What’s up? I didn’t see your car in the lot.”
A smile stretches across her face. “Oh, I didn’t tell you. My niece is visiting from the US. I had her drop me off this morning so she could go sightseeing for a bit.”
Hell. The American in the car that almost ran me down is her niece. I didn’t even clock the car at first, but thinking back, it was the same beat-up old thing Rose has been driving since I’ve known her.
Guess I was too busy staring at the girl behind the wheel to notice anything else.
I clear my throat, trying not to laugh at the coincidence when Rose catches my eye with a knowing lift of her brow.
“That makes sense,” I say, clearing my throat. “I think I just passed her on my way in. What’s her name?”
