Week 6

   As I’m jolted forward in my seat I hear a loud crashing sound, the sound of crushing metal on metal. I sit for a moment, stunned. What the fuck just happened?! It takes me a minute to realize I've just been rear-ended.  It’s near dusk and it's pouring rain outside, and I’m wearing a dress. I hear a door slam and footsteps running forward. I’m still in shock. I don't feel like I have whip-lash. I look down to see I still have all my fingers, I wiggle my toes, then I grab my chest, everything's still intact, I'm fine. Through my foggy window, I see the outline of a figure in a blue shirt looking into my car window.  Luckily, I'm on a small residential street in Terra Linda, and I reckon the guy that just hit me was probably not going more then 15 mph. But still, what is it with this year and my luck with cars...first a flat tire, now this?

    I hear a knocking on my window and the sound of a man talking, "Are you OK? I'm so sorry!"  I roll down my window and look up into incredibly bright green eyes of a bearded man that appears to be in his mid thirties, perhaps forties.

    "I'm so sorry," he repeats in a deep voice. He’s seems nice because he sounds genuinely sorry, so I figure there's no reason to get too worked up.

   "I'm OK",  I respond, slightly flustered as I look back at him.  I'm no longer in shock from what just happened, this time I seem to go into shock for a completely different reason. I look back at the concerned face of the man staring into my window.  This dude is cute, wait, let me correct myself, extremely handsome. Imagine a mixture of Gerald Butler and a scruffier version of that actor from Party of Five, what's his name..oh yeah, Matthew Fox. Umm, yes please???

“That was all my fault," he continues, I‘ll get my insurance info." As he runs back to his truck, I'm thinking to myself, Thank God he doesn't have a Scottish or Irish accent or I may have peed my panties.  I notice that the vehicle that he gets into is an older model of a white Toyota Tundra, with the logo Evan's Carpentry imprinted on the side. His front fender looks practically unscratched and I decide I should get out to see the damage that his big truck has done to Kai, my turquoise Chevy.

  I get out of my truck, fussing with my long black Bebe dress so it doesn't get caught on my seat as I slide out. I praise the universe for the fact that I'm not wearing something frumpy like my comfy tye-dye pants and sweatshirt. And I once again thank God, Buddha, or whatever deity there is or isn't, that I started this freakin' blog, because I feel sexy and hot. It's raining hard now and I immediately feel the heavy rain drops meet my bare arms as I step into the fresh, damp air. I manage to jump over a few large puddles in my newly purchased red, Nine West heels (thanks to DSW, I love that place). Kai, which means ‘ocean water' in Hawaiian, really must be 'like a rock' as the GM commercials advertised, because I just see a  faint scratch on the rear bumper.

   As I’m assessing the minimal damage done, a car zooms by, whoooosh! A huge puddle of gutter water that I just successfully avoided stepping in, is now the newest accessory to my dress. The insanely handsome bearded man returns just at the right moment to witness this event.

   "Wow, this really must not be your day, " he remarks to me, as he stares at me in my now soaked, skin-clinging black dress.  I'm actually thinking the latter as I try to discreetly check him out.

I just laugh and respond, "No worries." I shrug and add, "It's just water." And I smile. And he smiles.

"You sure do have a good attitude," he states. “I'm Evan, by the way."

“Sarah”, I respond back, and reach out for the hand he offers me. His hand is rough and callused, and I feel my 'C U Next Tuesday' start to tingle.

 “Well, I must of ruined your night", he remarks in his sexy and manly voice.  "Let me make it up to you? Perhaps I can take you out to dinner sometime?" he asks.

"Sure, I’d love that," I respond, trying to play it cool as I'm doing cartwheels in my mind. Then something happens.

    Maybe it was the rain. Or maybe it was his green eyes. But I think it was the dress. I make a split second decision, and before I even have time to second guess myself, I'm leaning in and planting a kiss on Evan's mouth. His beard tickles and his lips send an electric surge all the way down to my toes, you know, the kind you read about in cheesy romance novels.  He pulls back startled at my bold move and for 10 seconds we are both holding our breaths and staring at each other. By now it's night, we're both drenched and the only light is the glow of the street light that is illuminating the wet asphalt. He finally grabs me after those 10 seconds, which really feels like 10 minutes, and kisses me fiercely. Rain is pouring down, his callused hands begin to feel their way up my wet……..ok, ok, that’s enough. Use your imagination. I know I did…

   There’s good news and bad news. The bad news is that story is total bollocks, just fiction, a NyQuil induced hallucination. I've been out sick for the last week. There was no dress worn this week, nor was I rear-ended and seduced by a bearded carpenter. I've been living in my tye-dye pants and my aqua New Zealand sweatshirt (on that note, I think it's time I do laundry). But the good news is... perhaps I have a future career in writing Harlequin romance novels? This possibility is primarily based on the second half of the story which I chose to omit. And I suppose it got a bit chintzy when I started to talk about his rough, callused hands. Again, I blame the NyQuil.