Only I could pull off a car accident sitting still at a red light.

For a second after the impact, I forgot about the wasp in my car. Then it descended slowly in front of my eyes again, a sinister buzz rippling the small space between my nose and its stinger. I slammed the gearshift into park and forced open the driver-side door with a loud creak! As I tumbled to the asphalt, the door caught sharply on its hinges, bounced back, and slammed against my leg. I landed hard on my hip, and my elbow almost unearthed the center line dividing the two westbound lanes of Old Hickory Boulevard.

But I was safe from the buzzing bringer of death, even if I was sprawled across the highway during rush-hour traffic. A few feet away, the driver of the large black truck—under which my coupe was wedged—slid out of his cab.

"Are you crazy?" he shouted as he rushed toward me, closing my car door as he ran.

All around us, car horns crescendoed in an urban symphony. Wasn't it a known fact that people don't honk in the South? Weren't we supposed to be the land of "bless your hearts"s and deep-fried hospitality? I guess not.

The man grabbed my arm and hoisted me to my feet, spinning me around and pushing my back against the side of my car. Traffic in the lane next to us started rolling again, right over the spot where my head had landed on the road between the front grill of a garbage truck and the backside of a school bus.

The neck of my savior/victim was inches from my face as he yelled to cars honking behind mine, "Go around!" He smelled like cedar and sunshine.

Stars twinkled in my vision as I stared at the perfect angle of his jaw.

Maybe I hit my head.

"Are you OK?" He took a half step back and studied my face.

God, he was handsome. Tall. Thick, broad shoulders. Dirty blond hair that couldn't pick a single direction to grow. The turquoise in my dress reflected in his chocolate-brown eyes. His lips were full—and kissable.

Yes. I definitely hit my head.

Gingerly touching my fingers to my hairline, where I was fairly certain my forehead had smacked the steering wheel, I blinked to try and reset my thoughts. There wasn't any blood. Miraculously. "I—I'm so sorry."

"Are you all right?" He bent at the knees so he was eye level with me. "What happened?"

"There was a bee."

His head snapped back. "A bee?"

Oh hell. Kill me now. Heat bloomed in my cheeks, compounding my mortification. I hid my face behind my hands. "A wasp, actually. I freaked out, and my foot slipped off the brake."

He was silent.

Peeking through my fingers, I saw him biting down on the insides of his lips. Probably to keep from laughing. I dropped my hands. "It's not funny!"

"You're right. It's not funny." He chuckled anyway. "Are you hurt?"

I shook my head despite the stars still twinkling in my vision. "I hit my head on the steering wheel, but I think I'm OK."

"Should we go to the hospital? Do I need to call an ambulance?"

"No, no. I'm all right." I hoped I was correct.

He examined my arm. "Your elbow is messed up."

"It hurts."

"Come on. I have a first-aid kit in the truck."

With his arm curled around my waist, he helped me to the sidewalk. Pain burned through my hip and down my leg as I stood by the back door of his truck. He pulled a small white box from the floorboard and balanced it on the rim of his truck bed.

"Let me see it," he said, gently taking hold of my wrist.

I winced as he pulled my arm up and across my body.

"There's a lot of gravel in the wound. I need to wash it out." He stepped to the front door, opened it, and leaned inside. A second later, he returned with a bottle of water. I tensed just looking at it.

He grimaced. "It's gonna sting."

I took a deep breath and held it. "Just do it."

Cool water splashed over my elbow.

"Sweet mother!" I twisted and arched my spine as the water burned my shredded skin.

The man studied me carefully, perhaps afraid I might scream or pass out. "You OK?"

I nodded, squeezing my eyes shut.

"Breathe," he said.

I inhaled. "I'm OK."

He tore open a packet of antibiotic ointment and smeared it over the bloody hole, instantly dulling the blinding pain. I fully exhaled for the first time since the crash. Then he opened a large bandage and covered the area.

"Thank you." I gave him a thorough once over, checking him for injuries, of course. "I didn't even ask. Are you all right?"

He smiled. "Honestly, the truck didn't even lurch enough to make my seat belt catch. You sort of slid right under it." He nodded toward his truck. Its size made my car look like it could be remote controlled. "I think you owe me a new bumper."

The front end of my car was wearing his chrome bumper like a tiara. My head fell forward in shame. "I just paid off the car loan."

"That's the way it usually goes." He closed the first-aid kit and put it back in his truck. "Can you manage to stay out of oncoming traffic long enough for me to dislodge your car from my rear end?"

My eyes doubled in size.

So did his. "That came out all wrong!"

I burst out laughing and clapped my hand over my mouth. "Yes, it did."

He shook his head and jerked his thumb back over his shoulder. "I'm going to move my truck."

Still grinning behind my hand, I nodded. "OK."

The scraping metal against metal as he slowly pulled forward off my car made me cringe and plug my ears. My nose wrinkled as I stepped forward to inspect the damage. His bumper had settled at a slant below the tailgate, but other than that, his truck didn't have a scratch. I couldn't say as much for my car.

He pulled into the parking lot of the gas station next to the intersection, then parked and rejoined me in front of my car. "Well, unfortunately, I don't think it's drivable." He bent over my hood, which was stripped down to the base metal and crumpled like a sheet of discarded notebook paper. "Looks like my hitch tore a hole in the radiator."

Curse words drifted through my mind, but I would never say them out loud. Instead, I stepped toward the passenger's side. "I'll get my insurance information."

He grabbed my hand to stop me. "Is the bee still in there?"

I froze. "Oh! I don't know."

With a slight bow, he put his hand over his heart. "Let me."

This man. I wasn't aware guys like him existed in my generation. I stayed behind as he walked around the car. "Be careful. It's mean."

It took a few yanks, but he finally managed to wrench the door open with a labored creak from the mangled metal. "Whoa!" He ducked out of the wasp's way as it zinged past his head. "That sucker was huge!"

I tossed my hands up, then winced from the pain in my arm. "I know!"

He motioned me over. "Come on. The coast is clear."

In my glove box, all pertinent roadside necessities were neatly arranged. The paperwork was filed away in a black case behind a first-aid kit, a tire-pressure gauge, an ice scraper, and a flashlight. As I sat in the seat, carefully removing the items, he looked over my shoulder. "You're so well prepared, I'm surprised there's no bee spray in there."

I might have laughed had I not been trying so hard to fight back tears. I quickly found my insurance card and handed it to him. "Here. Take a picture of it with your phone."

"Good thinking. Have you done this a lot?" he asked.

I sighed as I got out of the car. "Don't ask."

With the camera on his smartphone, he snapped a picture of my insurance information. "Lucille Cooper?" He grinned and began humming the hit by Kenny Rogers, "You Picked a Fine Time to Leave Me, Lucille."

Rolling my eyes, I tucked the card back into the case and stepped out beside him. "Boy, I've never heard that before. It's Lucy, actually."

He offered his hand. "I'm West Adler."

My brow crinkled. "West? As in north, south, east"—I pointed at him—"and you?"

He folded his arms over his chest, straining his short sleeves against his biceps. "That's a funny joke coming from a girl named Lucille."

I playfully shoved him in the shoulder, then noticed the embroidered logo on his chest. "Adler Construction. Family business?"

"You could say that."

The shrill wail of a police siren echoed through the jammed intersection. My heart sank.

"Uh-oh," West said with a grin. "Looks like someone called the fuzz."

My day kept getting better and better.

A white-and-blue Nashville Metro police cruiser, with red-and-blue lights flashing, inched its way across the busy road until it pulled to a stop behind my car. The officer, an older man with white hair and a matching mustache, angled out from behind the wheel and tugged his belt up over his belly as he sauntered toward us.

"It's your lucky day," West said quietly at my side.

"Right," I muttered.

The cop pulled off his mirrored aviator sunglasses. "West Adler, is that you?"

West met the cop halfway. I trailed behind him.

"How's it going, Danny?" West asked, stretching out his hand.

Officer Danny accepted West's hand with a hearty shake. "I'm having a better day than someone is having." He pointed to my mangled car. "What happened?"

"A killer wasp, I'm afraid." West grinned down at me. "Fortunately, there were no casualties other than the car."

God, his smile made my knees wobble.

"What'd it hit?" Danny asked.

West pointed toward his truck. "Tapped my bumper."

"Will it start?"

West sighed. "Haven't tried, but there's radiator fluid all over the pavement."

The cop grunted in response, then surveyed our surroundings. "Think we could push it into that parking lot?"

West looked at me. "Lucy, can you steer while we push?"

My mouth was gaping. I'd rear-ended him, and West Adler was saving the day. Who was this guy?

"Lucy?"

I snapped out of my daze. "Yeah. Of course. Sorry."

When my little blue car was safely off the highway and parked at the side of the gas station's lot, I got out and rejoined the men at my back bumper. West was dusting off his hands. I should've washed my car.

"I'll be right back," Danny said, wiping his hands on his pants as he walked back to his police cruiser.

I narrowed my eyes at West. "Are you famous?" It was a fair question in the music capital of the world.

He laughed. "No. Danny knows my father."

"Oh."

"He won't give you a ticket," he added, lowering his voice.

My shoulders relaxed, and I blew out a deep sigh. "Thank God."

The cop pulled into the lot beside us and rolled down his window. "Need me to call a tow truck for you, ma'am?"

West held up his hand. "I'll take care of it."

My head snapped up. "You will?"

"Of course, I will. I can't leave a beautiful young woman stranded on the side of the road."

I tapped my chest. "You know I ran into you, right?"

West ignored me. "I've got this under control, Danny."

Danny tipped an imaginary hat toward us. "Call me if you need anything, West. And give my regards to your family."

West waved. "Will do."

"Thank you!" I called out as the officer drove away.

True to his word, West Adler—knight in shining polo shirt—called a friend who owned a body shop. After a few moments on the phone, he covered the speaker with his hand. "My buddy says it's gonna be about an hour before he can get here. You can leave it, and he'll pick it up and call you about the damage, or we can call another company. It's up to you."

Between being rattled by the accident and feeling woozy from West Adler's cologne, I didn't know what to do. "If you trust him, I guess it would be OK to leave it."

He nodded, then pulled the phone back up to his ear. "Hey, man. We'll leave it here at the gas station. It's a dark blue GKS Sport with a front end currently shaped like an accordion. You can't miss it."

My mouth twisted into a frown.

West winked at me.

"I'll text you her phone number," he said before disconnecting the call.

I withered. "Thanks, West."

He tucked the phone into his pocket. "Don't mention it. My friend could use the business."

I knew he might be saying that to make me feel better. It worked.

He looked down at the shiny silver watch encircling his wrist. "I can give you a ride depending on where you're headed."

I crossed my arms. "Are you doing penance for some horrible past sin?"

"What?"

"Or maybe you're in the 'make amends' step of a recovery program and this is some part of a paying-your-grievances-forward plan?"

West scratched his head. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Nobody's this nice to someone who hit them at a traffic light. I know because I've done this before."

The corner of his perfect mouth tipped up. "Maybe you just haven't bumped into the right person." He pointed to his truck. "Do you want a lift or not? It's a pretty simple question."

"Umm..."

"Where are you going, Lucy?"

"Downtown," I answered.

Without giving me a chance to object, he walked to his truck and opened the passenger-side door. "Me too. Hop in."

Giddiness bubbled inside me. I felt a little dizzy. Maybe it was the concussion. "Are you sure?"

His eyes widened, and his sparkling smile was teasing. "Get in the damn truck, Lucille."

I laughed and got in the damn truck.

On the off chance he was a serial killer (such would be my luck), I texted my roommate Olivia Barker. In case I go missing or wind up dead, a guy named West Adler is driving me to work. I wrecked my car, but I'm OK. Just wanted someone to know.

She didn't respond.

West got in the driver's side and started the engine. It was so loud I wondered if I'd screwed up his muffler, but West didn't seem to notice. He put it into gear and rolled to the lot's exit. "So where were you headed this morning before all hell broke loose inside your car?" As he pulled onto the busy street, he waved his thanks to the driver who let him cut into the line of traffic.

"Work," I answered.

"What do you do?"

I tried to cross my legs, but the pain stopped me. "Marketing. I work for an artist-management company downtown."

"What kind of artists?"

"Country music mostly."

"Anyone I've heard of?"

I nodded. "Probably. Melvin Brooks, Jake Barrett, Lawson Young—"

"I love his new song," he said.

I rolled my eyes. "Most guys do."

Country crooner Lawson Young had recently released an entire album spawned by one of the worst, and most public, breakups in history. At least Nashville's history, anyway. And that was saying something in the home of country music. The first single—eloquently titled "Bitch, Please"—immediately blew up the charts, and the tabloids. The object of the breakup? My boss, his soon-to-be-former manager. Things at work were tense, to say the least.

"Do you like it?" West asked.

"The song?"

He chuckled. "Your job."

I nodded. "Most days." And it was true. Besides all the drama as of late, it was fun and exciting. And fortunately, it paid well enough to cover an increased car insurance premium and my hefty deductible.

My phone buzzed in my hand with a text message. Are you dead? It was Olivia.

Not dead. Call you later, I texted back.

"Where's your office?" he asked as we neared the on-ramp to I-65 North.

"Inside the Summit Tower. Do you know where it is? It's pretty new."

He checked his blind spot and merged with traffic. "I think I've seen it before."

"Probably. It's the biggest building downtown."

He shook his head. "The Batman Building is bigger."

"The what?"

"You're not from here, are you?"

"I've only lived here about six weeks," I said.

"Really? Where did you move from?"

"A teeny, tiny little town called Riverbend. Have you ever heard of it?"

He thought for a moment. "It doesn't ring any bells."

"It's between here and Memphis with a sixty-mile detour south off I-40. You're not alone. Most people haven't heard of the armpit of Tennessee."

"Armpit, huh?"

"It's a pretty place to visit, or maybe hide in the witness-protection program, but I don't recommend staying there."

He cut his eyes over at me with a grin that made my stomach tingle. "Are you in witness protection?"

I winked at him. "Not anymore."

"What brought you here?"

"The job brought me to Nashville, specifically, but I was considering any city with a population greater than three thousand." I looked out the window. "Lately, I really needed a change of scenery."

"How's that working out for you?" he asked.

I admired him from across the cab. The scenery looks pretty great from here. I didn't dare say that, however. I blushed and looked away. "I'll let you know, but so far so good."

"Look." He pointed toward the skyline in the distance ahead of us.

The tallest structure in the sky was a giant building with what looked to be two pointy ears. I laughed. "I get it. The Batman Building."

We arrived at my office way too soon. I wasn't ready for our meeting to end. He pulled up to the curb in front of the entrance and parked. "Here you are, m'lady."

I unbuckled my seatbelt. "Thanks again, West. You really didn't have to do all this for me."

He shifted sideways and pulled his phone from his pocket. "Let me get your number. I still need to send it to Randy at the shop." When he finished typing with his thumbs, he leaned toward me, tilting the phone enough for me to see the screen. He'd started a new contact file under the name Hot Chick Who Wrecked My Truck.

I almost melted into a puddle.

After exchanging numbers, I opened the door and groaned in pain as I slid out onto the sidewalk.

"Are you sure you shouldn't get checked out at the hospital?" he asked, his gorgeous eyes crinkled with concern. "I'm afraid you might be really hurt and not know it."

My heart, I knew, would surely never be the same. "I'm fine, I promise. And I'm really sorry about your bumper, West."

He shrugged. "It could happen to anybody." Quickly, he tapped his chest. "Not me, of course. But anybody else."

Laughing again, I closed the door.

He rolled down the window. "Let me know if you have any problems with the shop."

"I will. Thank you." I waved as I turned toward the building and started up the front steps.

"Hey!" I heard him call.

I looked back.

He pointed at me with a grin. "You owe me, Lucille. Don't you forget it."

Then he winked, and I slipped off the step.

***************************

LIGHTS OUT LUCY will be updated weekly. It is also available worldwide on Amazon, Audible, Apple Books, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, Walmart, Target and more.

Copyright ©2018 by Elicia Hyder
All rights reserved. No part of this work should be copied, downloaded, or reproduced without my consent. All photos are copyrighted and either owned by or licensed by the author. Do not copy or reproduce.