“I can’t believe you’re giving me the ticket.”
Traffic had resumed its normal pace. They stood off the shoulder of the highway in the grass near the spot where her car had come to rest.
“Sorry, Ma’am.”
She waved the citation at him and with her free hand pointed at the driver of the truck. “He hit me from behind. It’s his fault, and besides, I couldn’t hit the puppy.”
“You should never risk your own life for an animal.” The truck driver said.
“You’re the one who ran across the traffic to get the dog.”
“Totally different. I didn’t want the little boy to see his dog get hit.”
“See, he admits there was a dog.” She turned back to the policeman.
The officer’s lips curled in a half-hearted smile, his voice polite, but firm. “We’ve already been through this, ma’am. Hire a lawyer if you want to fight it.”
“I am a lawyer.”
The two men shared a look.
The officer nodded. “Explains a lot.”
The truck driver grinned, but said nothing.
She took a deep breath. Stay calm. It’s the low blood sugar making you irritable.
“You may have a problem getting a tow truck the night before Thanksgiving.” The officer said.
“I have a headache and I’ve been traveling all day.” Reggie wilted. Now, what?
“Look, let’s call a truce and let me drive you home, deal?”
She looked at the traffic speeding by, and then at the man’s battered old blue truck. The bumpers had more rust than chrome and the windshield had a crack almost as long as the window. She wrinkled her nose.
“Not much to look at, but it gets me where I need to go.”
Reggie’s face warmed. She hadn’t meant to be rude. The man was trying to be helpful. “Right now it looks a lot better than my Beemer, but I’m not in the habit of letting strangers pick me up.”
His Caribbean blue eyes twinkled against his tanned skin. “I’m hurt. Really, I am. How can you say we’re strangers after all we’ve been through?”
Looking into his warm eyes, she didn’t feel quite as chilled as she had a moment before. Her blood sugar was too low, and her body ached.
The man probably wasn’t a serial killer. He was quite handsome in a country sort of way. He was tall and tanned, in spite of the cold weather, and Reggie noticed his broad shoulders in the red flannel shirt he wore. He must be tough—no jacket. His dark brown hair curled over his collar. His faded jeans and cowboy boots looked worn from work, not a fashion statement. He’d be perfect in a tough-guy commercial if he wore a cowboy hat.
“I’m Dylan Monroe and this officer has my name and address.” He held out his hand. “If anything happens to you, I’ll be the first guy he comes looking for. So, whaddya say?” He pointed at his old truck. “I know it’s not a fancy car, but it will get you home.”
Reggie turned to the officer. “What do you think?”
“Up to you, ma’am, but I think he’s trustworthy. He’s never even had a traffic ticket unlike—”
“None of those tickets were my fault.”
“It never is.” The officer laughed as he walked away. “I’d take you home, but it’s out of my jurisdiction. You’ll need to have this towed within forty-eight hours or you’ll get another ticket. Drive safe and Happy Thanksgiving!”
Another ticket. Reggie turned to the man who was now her rescuer. “Are you sure you don’t mind driving me home? I don’t want to be a bother.” It had been a long time since lunch. She assessed her physical condition, clammy hands and dizziness.
“You a bother? No way.” The man had a sense of humor.
“I’ll need my luggage.” She looked at her car. The trunk lid was half-open and smashed in.
“Let’s see if we can open your trunk. Then, I can get you home. If you don’t mind me saying, you look more tired than a groundhog in February.”
He talked like a cowboy, too.
“I am exhausted. It’s been a long, long day.” She reached in her purse and pulled out a twenty. “For your trouble.”
“I don’t do favors for money. A simple thank you will be enough.”
It was getting warmer by the minute in spite of the chill of the day. “Well…well, thanks for your help.” She stuffed the money back in her purse, feeling as if she’d insulted the man.
“You’re welcome. Always glad to help a damsel in distress.” He tipped his hat and bowed. His clear blue eyes crinkled as he smiled.
“I’m Reggie Meyers.” She held out her own hand. He engulfed her hand in both of his. He held it, not letting go after the shake. His warmth made her shiver.
“It’s nice to meet you, Reggie. Short for Regina?”
She nodded.
“Regina is such a beautiful name. It fits you perfectly.”
She opened her mouth but had no idea what to say. Instead, she pulled her hand back from his.
After using a crowbar, Dylan yanked her luggage from the crumpled trunk and headed for the truck. His walk was confident. He seemed sure of his place in this world
Reggie watched him place her luggage in the truck bed. She envied him. It was exhausting always second-guessing herself, never being sure about the right way to act, never sure what people thought of her, always worried about the impression she made. She walked to the passenger side of the truck. She reached, but Dylan’s hand came around and opened the door before she could.
“You might need a hand there.” Dylan said, in a slow drawl.
Looking at the height of the truck and then down at her own tight skirt and heels. It could be a problem but she was quite capable of getting into a truck without this cowboy’s help. “I can do it.”
“Suit yourself.” He walked to the driver’s side.
Lifting a leg to get in, her foot stopped a few inches short of where it needed to be. Reggie tried hopping in with no success. She peeked at Dylan, sitting in the driver’s seat, pretending not to notice her struggles. After a quick glance around, she hiked her skirt and pulled up into the truck.
CDs without cases and empty gum wrappers littered the seat and floor. Dylan picked up a pack of sugar-free mint gum and held it out to her. When she shook her head, he pulled out two slices, unwrapped them, and popped both in his mouth.
“Trying to quit smoking. It’s been tough, but I think I’ve got it licked.”
“How long since you stopped?”
“Three months.” He pointed at the gum packs. “I’ve got a three pack a day habit. I’m thinking of buying stock in the chewing gum company.”
“Not a bad idea. I might look into it myself.”
“Buckle up.” Dylan chuckled.
“You really are the seatbelt police, aren’t you? I hope this works better than mine did.” She muttered, as she fastened it.
As Dylan drove, Reggie called to arrange for a tow truck to pick up her car and take it to a repair shop. Within fifteen minutes, Dylan pulled up to her apartment.
The complex consisted of duplexes nestled into the woods adjoining the Cleveland Metroparks system. Built to blend in with the environment, they were shingled with rustic brown wood siding.
“This is where you live?” He shook his head. “Can’t imagine living with all these people around. It would drive me nuts.”
“I love it. It’s great. It has a pool, a sauna, hot tub and tennis courts.” She hadn’t used any of the amenities since she’d moved in. The goal of becoming a junior partner took all her time.
“To each his own. I’m just a simple country boy.”
“Well, thanks for the ride.” She opened the door and slid out of the truck, but winced as her feet landed on the concrete. She may never wear heels again. She wondered what her boss would think about her going to court in jogging shoes, but then realized it could be a moot point. They would probably fire her anyway after losing the Lightning Bolt contract.
By the time Reggie rearranged her skirt, Dylan was beside her holding her luggage. She reached to take it from him, but he held on tight.
“I’ll carry it.”
“I can handle it.” She grabbed at the handle but only managed to latch on to his hand. Warmth emanated from Dylan. She yanked her hand back.
“I’m sure you can, but my mama raised a gentleman.”
Staring into those blue eyes, Reggie saw resistance would be futile. She told him the number and pointed towards her home. She had no energy left. She followed, glad he couldn’t see her limping.
Dylan turned and waved towards her door. “Were you expecting someone?”
The door stood ajar.