Nowhere but Here Read Online Free

setting, the last long rays piercing through the large eucalyptus trees that lined the road to the winery. I pulled off and took a couple of photos and removed a few layers of clothes. At that point I was wearing very wrinkled black slacks and a blazer, unsuccessfully trying to pull off the sophisticated journalist look. It was warm in Napa compared to Chicago that time of year. I knew I was only a few minutes away, so I took some time to go over my interview questions and then I hopped in the car and drove toward the R. J. Lawson property.
    GPS lady notified me that I was approaching my destination. When I got to a point where I needed to turn left into the winery, I stopped and waited for a car that was coming from the opposite direction to pass. That car passed, and then another popped up in the distance, and then another. Finally, I had to take my chances and turn quickly. I did just that, overcorrecting and running the car smack into a truck pulling out of the winery driveway. The airbag deployed rather rudely in my face at the very same moment that I heard crunching metal and felt the force of the collision. I started frantically pushing away the deflating airbag when I spotted a figure outside of the passenger window.
    “Are you okay?!” he shouted.
    I nodded and a few seconds later he opened my door for me.
    I got out quickly and ran to the front of the car, then I looked over at the truck I had hit head-on. It was an old, classic Ford pickup. It didn’t appear to have a scratch on it, yet the front of my rental car was completely smashed. What a day I was having. At that moment I wanted to call Jerry and tell him that the only way I was going to find my “spark” was if I lit myself on fire.
    “Is that your truck?” I said, pointing. I was still shaken and confused.
    I looked over at the guy. He began slowly walking toward me. He was tall with longish, sun-bleached hair. His deep green eyes looked concerned. I noticed that he was wearing a black T-shirt with the R. J. Lawson logo on it.
    “Are you sure you’re okay? You look like you might be in shock,” he said. I started to sway. He braced me by putting his hands on the outside of my shoulders.
    “Do you work here?”
    “Yeah, I’m Jamie.” He had a scruffy but defined jawline, and although he was thin, there was something ruggedly strong about him. He had on dark Levi’s and black work boots. The skin on his face was completely flawless. He had darker skin than the typical Chicago white boy I was used to. He evidently spent a lot of time outside. When I looked at his hands, I could tell he used them for work. They looked strong and callused.
    “I need to get your information, Jamie.”
    His pretty mouth turned up into a lazy smile. “I believe you hit me, so I’ll need your information.” God, he was handsome, and my embarrassment level was increasing by the second.
    “Fine.” I stood by the door and pulled a piece of scratch paper from my purse. I quickly scribbled out the information and reached behind me to where Jamie was standing. He took the paper from my hand. I didn’t turn around but I heard a light chuckle from him.
    I became even more peeved after realizing my car wasn’t drivable and it was only five minutes until interview time. Damn this world. When I finally turned back toward Jamie, he was flashing a stupid, smug grin.
    “What?” I said to him with as pointed a look as I could muster.
    “You’re Jerry Evans?”
    “Yeah, so what.”
    “Well, when we spoke on the phone this morning your voice was quite a bit deeper.”
    “That’s all the information you need, although it doesn’t look to me like your truck will need any repairs. I’m sorry I hit you, okay? I just don’t drive very much and I’m running very, very late for my interview with R. J. Lawson.”
    “Oh, you’re the reporter?”
    “I’m the journalist, yes.”
    “Well, you better march your little tail up there. R.J. gets really pissy when people are