Page 7 of Bourbon Bliss
3
George
The sun filtered through the trees as I sped down the highway. It was cold out there, and I’d felt the tires slip on slick ice in a few shady places. Had to be careful. I’d only passed two, maybe three cars along the highway. This town I was headed to—Bootleg Springs—was in the middle of nowhere. My sister Shelby had said it was remote, but I was starting to wonder if I’d missed it.
Shelby had been in Bootleg Springs since last November. I wasn’t sure what she was doing out there. My younger sister always had something cooking. Truth was, I hadn’t seen Shelby a lot over the last ten years. We’d kept in touch through texts and Skype calls, and spent a few holidays with our parents down in Charlotte. And I’d taken the whole family on a cruise a few years ago, during the off-season.
But it wasn’t just a Thompson sibling reunion that had me headed into the mountains of West Virginia. Apparently this place was known for their hot springs. Some people even said they had healing properties. When I’d chatted with Shelby a few days ago, she’d suggested I come out and stay a while. She’d said the town was nice, and at this point, I’d do just about anything if it would help rehab my knee. It wasn’t like I had anything else going on.
There were perks to being unemployed.
The highway curved, leading into a longer straight stretch. A car came toward me, headed in the opposite direction—a gorgeous black Dodge Charger. Bad ass car. I cracked the window to listen to the engine while it passed. I could just hear the faint rumble of that throaty purr. Nothing like a hot muscle car with an owner who knew how to make her sing.
But before I could admire the hum of the Charger’s engine, a deer darted across the road, right in front of the other car.
The Charger swerved, narrowly missing the animal. Its tires must have hit an icy patch, and the car spun in a tight circle, veering off the road. I clenched my steering wheel as I watched it happen, as if in slow motion, powerless to help. The driver tried to correct, but the car slammed into a tree with a loud crunch.
I pumped my brakes, careful of the ice, and pulled across the empty highway. As soon as I was safely stopped on the side of the road, I flew out of the car and ran over to see if the driver was okay.
The driver’s side door was pinned against the trunk of the tree. I went to the passenger’s side and yanked the door open.
Bending down, I leaned against the heavy metal door, and peered inside. “Are you okay?”
The driver looked dazed. He was dressed in a black knit hat and thick coat, his jaw covered with dark facial hair. He had a hand to his forehead, but I didn’t see blood. Seemed like a good sign.
“What the fuck,” he muttered.
“You okay, man? Need help getting out of there?”
He looked at me and blinked a few times, like he was trying to figure out what had just happened. One hand still gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles white.
After prying his hand open and flexing his fingers a few times, he nodded. I reached in and helped him across the seat, then made sure he was stable on his feet before I let go of his thick forearm.
He put his hand on the car, probably to steady himself. “Holy shit. I didn’t hit her, did I?”
“The deer?” I asked. “No, she ran off.”
He nodded, still visibly dazed.
“Are you hurt?”
“I don’t think so. Hit my head, but that’s nothing.”
“I don’t know, man, a head injury isn’t something to fuck around with. Trust me.”
His eyes seemed to clear and he straightened. “Right, yeah. Oh fuck, my car.”
Now that I was fairly sure the guy was all right, I turned my attention to the Charger. It would have been a damn shame to get even a scratch on this beauty, and this was much worse than a scratch. I couldn’t see the extent of the damage from this side, but it couldn’t have been pretty.
“You have someone you can call? Or can I give you a ride somewhere? I’m not sure where you were headed.”
“Fuck,” he muttered again. “Yeah, I’ll call one of my brothers.”
“Sure. I’ll wait and make sure you get where you need to go.”
He met my eyes for the first time, like it was sinking in that I was there. “Thanks for stopping. Appreciate it.”
“No problem.” I held out my hand. “GT Thompson.”
