(The following is the first of a four part series which will run for four consecutive weeks)

By AJ Cross

It is unclear where he came from, except to say that his arrival could not have been timelier.  Around 2:15am, while driving on I-5 from San Diego to San Francisco, one of the lights on the dash display of my grey Chrysler 300 rental car turned on. Since my gas tank was full, I decided that whatever the problem was could wait until I made it to the next rest stop.  It was pouring so heavily that pulling over wasn’t really an option for me and it wasn’t as if I knew anything about cars anyway.

I continued along cautiously, as I could barely see the road ahead.  I had to be the only car on the road, with the exception of a few big rig trucks that would pass me randomly.  I had already been driving about 3 hours and was checking my cell phone for hotels in the next town, which was called Santa Clarita.  I was listening to Keith Urban on the satellite radio and, just as the song came to an end, a second light turned on indicating another problem with the car and then within a few minutes it stalled.  I turned off the car and then turned the key in the ignition and it started up.  I pulled over to the side and began searching for the roadside assistance number of the rental company.

I was looking in the glove compartment when I could see lights behind me and, as I rose up and looked back, I saw a red truck pulling up behind me.  “Thank God,” I thought to myself.  Out of pure paranoia, I locked my doors and slightly cracked my window enough that I could speak to whoever was coming toward me.  In the side mirror I saw the shape of someone tall walking toward me.  As the person got up to my window I could see it was a man.  He was wearing a white t-shirt and a cowboy hat and the torrential rain seemed not to bother him at all.  He gestured for me to roll down the window, so I did and he asked me if I was ok.  I told him that the car stalled out and that there were some lights that came on which may be indicatinga problem.  I lied, telling him that roadside assistance was on the way just to give myself a false sense of security.

He told me that he knew the area well and that there was not going to be a gas station or rest stop for a while and that, if I wanted, he would wait until help came.  I could barely see his eyes with all the rain and the brow of his dark cowboy hat was low on his forehead preventing me from seeing much of his face.  His voice was deep and he had a moderate country drawl.  Since there was no one actually coming for me, I decided to take his kindness at face value and told him the truth.  He let out a small laugh and told me that he understood that being stuck in the middle of nowhere might be nerve-racking, but he assured me that he was only trying to help.  He suggested that I turn off the engine and grab my things and he offered to take me to the nearest gas station or hotel until the rain let up. He told me the car would be fine there until I could come back for it.

I grabbed my bag, locked the door, ran to his truck and jumped into the passenger side.  I kept trying to get a look at his eyes, but it seemed that even sitting next to him that was not going to happen.  He asked me where I was heading at such a late hour and I told him that I had been driving for a few hours and was headed to San Francisco. I told him that I was lucky that he had come along and he simply smiled.  I could not help but notice his strong arms and well defined body showing through the drenched white t-shirt he was wearing.

I told him that he might want to change shirts so as not to get a cold and he simply took off his hat and pulled of his shirt. His hair had the impression of his hat on it. It was light brown with hints of gold and with small waves. I could barely catch my breath when I saw his body.  His arms were muscular and his chest and abs were so perfect they looked sculpted.  I tried so hard not to stare, as I could only assume he was not gay and did not want to risk offending him – especially after he had been kind enough to stop and help me.

I began to ask him where he was from and, as I was speaking, he interrupted me and asked me my name.  “Um, I’m Clark” I said.  He put out his hand and firmly shook mine and told me his name was Luke.  He was definitely a gentleman and rather country as he said “pleasure to meet you, Clark”.

His grip was firm and I guessed, based on his rough hands, that he was accustomed to hard work or some type of manual labor.  As we continued driving, pretending not to notice how attractive he was became increasingly difficult and I had to keep talking just to avoid my heart from exploding, it was beating so heavily.  I did not know what would happen – if anything at all —but I had to let the situation play out.  I had to give in to the circumstance.

To be continued... Click to Read Part2 Here