"Fair point." He pulled out his wallet and handed me his driver's license. "Griffin Rhodes, Foxfire Valley, Nevada. Clean record, search and rescue pilot, volunteer firefighter. You can take pictures and send them to whoever makes you feel safer."
I studied the license. The photo matched—though it didn't quite capture the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled. Search and rescue pilot was promising. Heroes didn't usually murder stranded travelers.
"Fine," I said, pulling out my phone to photograph his license. "But I'm texting this to my brother, and if he doesn't hear from me by tonight, he'll come looking. He's very protective and slightly unhinged when it comes to my safety."
"Noted." Griffin pocketed his wallet. "Let's get your stuff before Beck shows up with the tow truck."
I gathered my suitcases and laptop bag from the trunk, mentally recalculating my budget to include unexpected car replacement and alternative transportation. This was supposed to be my triumphant journey to independence, and instead I was playing damsel in distress to a man who looked like he bench-pressed trees for fun.
"You know," Griffin said as he loaded my bags into his truck, "for someone who just got saved from heat stroke, you don't look particularly grateful."
"I'm processing," I shot back. "Some of us need more than thirty seconds to adjust when our entire life plan implodes."
"Your entire life plan was dependent on a ten-year-old Honda?"
The accuracy of that hit a little too close to home. "Penelope was perfectly reliable until today."
"Uh-huh." He leaned against his truck, studying me with those infuriatingly perceptive eyes. "Let me guess—you're the type who has backup plans for your backup plans."
"Organization is how successful people stay successful," I said defensively.
"Or how uptight people stay uptight."
Heat flashed through me. "I am not uptight."
"Right. You're just standing in the middle of the desert having a philosophical argument about car reliability instead of getting in the truck."
I wanted to argue, but he had a point. A very annoying, very accurate point.
"Fine," I said, opening the passenger door. "But for the record, I'm not uptight. I'm thorough."
"If you say so."
The interior of his truck was surprisingly clean, with the faint scent of pine and something that might have been motor oil. Country music played softly from the radio, and there was a thermal coffee mug in the cup holder that suggested Griffin was the type who planned ahead too—he just didn't make a production of it.
As he started the engine, I found myself studying his profile. Strong jaw, focused expression, hands that looked capable of handling whatever life threw at them. There was something undeniably appealing about that kind of quiet confidence, even when it came wrapped in insufferable smugness.
"So," he said as we pulled back onto the highway, "wine sales. Competitive field."
"Very." I wasn't sure how much I wanted to share with this attractive stranger, but talking might distract me from the way his forearms flexed as he shifted gears. "I've been working in the industry for a few years, mostly at my brother's wine bar. This is my first real sales position."
"Big step up."
"Huge step up. Sparkling Oak is one of the most respected wineries in Oakcrest Bay. If I can prove myself there..." I trailed off, not wanting to sound too ambitious.
"You'll conquer the wine world?"
"I'll build something that's mine," I corrected. "Success on my own terms, not just as Bowie King's little sister."
We drove in silence for a while, the landscape gradually shifting from desert to rolling hills. Despite my frustration with the situation, I found myself relaxing slightly. Griffin seemed competent behind the wheel, and his truck was comfortable.
My phone buzzed with a text from Bowie:"How's the road trip? Found any cute hitchhikers yet?"
I glanced at Griffin, taking in the strong line of his shoulders, the way his hair caught the light. Cute was definitely not the word I'd use.
"Bad news?" Griffin asked, noticing my expression.
"Just my brother being his usual ridiculous self." I typed back"Define cute"and put the phone away.
