Dax Traub nodded as if that accounted for why he hadn’t known she existed before. He also suddenly seemed to be making up for lost time by studying her, and Shandie became very self-conscious under the scrutiny. She couldn’t help taking mental stock of her unimpressive jeans and the equally unimpressive tennis shoes she’d worn today for comfort. And the black smock all the stylists used to protect their clothing totally hid the fact that she had on a T-shirt she considered one of her better ones because it was formfitting and gave the illusion that she was a C-cup rather than barely a B.
At least she knew her shoulder-length blond hair was in good shape because she’d had one of the other girls highlight it just that morning. She’d also done her blush, mascara and lipstick right before leaving the shop to pick up Kayla from preschool, so while she might be wearing something tantamount to a choir robe, her high cheekbones, blue eyes and not-too-full, not-too-thin lips were taken care of, enough to leave her presentable.
Still, she felt at a disadvantage, and just as she was about to end this encounter to escape, it registered that her purse was on the floor near where Kayla had been standing.
“You took my purse?” she asked her daughter, retrieving it to sling over her shoulder.
“She was going to pay for the bike with what’s inside,” Dax Traub said, again seeming to find some humor in the situation.
“Kayla! You know better than that!”
“You don’t gots ’nough money. But we could use the bad charge ’cuz this is a ’mergency.”
Embarrassed by that, Shandie grimaced and felt obliged to explain again. “That sounds worse than it is. The bad charge is bad because it’s the account I have a balance on and am trying to pay off. I only use it in emergencies.” Then, to her daughter, she said, “And you getting a motorcycle isn’t an emergency.”
“I need a big bike,” Kayla said in a tone that Shandie knew could elevate into a tantrum.
She had no idea if Dax Traub was aware of that, too, but before Kayla could take it that far he changed the subject. “So how do you both like old Thunder Canyon?” he asked.
Her earlier thought of ending this encounter drifted away with the opportunity to go on talking to him and Shandie said, “I like it a lot. Or what I’ve seen of it. I haven’t really been able to pay attention to more than the necessities yet, and even though a fair share of people come through the shop, I haven’t made any friends or anything, but I’m sure that will come.”
He nodded a head that was so smolderingly handsome it could have graced one of the posters for men’s hairstyles that came to the shop on a monthly basis. And he had hair great enough to qualify as a poster boy, too. Thick, shiny deep mink-colored hair, cut short on the sides and in the back, and left longer on top in finger-combed waves, that had a charm—and a sexiness—all its own.
He also had eyes that were so dark brown they were the color of espresso beans, bordered by lashes so thick they should have been outlawed. His nose was slightly hawkish above those supple lips, and his facial structure included pronounced cheekbones and a jawline that could have been carved from granite. Plus, he was tall, lean and muscular, and couldn’t have been better suited to the low-slung jeans he was wearing with a gray sweatshirt over a white T-shirt, under a denim jacket, with the sweatshirt’s hood pulled above the jacket’s collar in back.
“I’d better get going,” Shandie said when she realized silence had fallen between them and she was the one doing the staring now and really should end this whole thing. “I have a haircut due in any minute.”
“I still need a big bike,” Kayla reminded her.
“She’s three,” Shandie said. “I think there’s a handbook somewhere that says she gets points for persistence.”
Dax Traub smiled again and aimed his dark eyes at Kayla. “You tell Jack S. that you know where there are a lot of bikes bigger than his and if he doesn’t leave you alone I’ll bring one over to show him what a baby he is.”
Shandie flinched. “Oh, don’t say that. She’ll make you stick to it.”
“That’s okay. We have to keep these hotshots in line,” he said.
“I’ll tell ’im,” Kayla assured, clearly feeling victorious.
“Anyway, again, I’m sorry for bothering you,” Shandie said before any more promises could be made.
Dax Traub’s smile this time was pure devilish charisma, and he flashed it at mother and daughter. “No bother. I’m glad I got to meet you. Both.”
“Nice to meet you, too,” Shandie said, not sounding anywhere near as smooth as he did. “Do you mind if I go out the way I came in?” she added with a nod toward the garage.
“I can’t think of a reason I would.”
“Okay, thanks. And thanks for not letting Kayla get any farther away than your showroom.”
“Sure.”
“Bye, Dax-like-Max-the-dog,” Kayla said, being silly and swiveling on her mother’s hip so she could look over Shandie’s shoulder at the shop owner as Shandie turned to go.
“Bye, Kayla Jane Solomon,” he countered as if they were sharing a private joke.
Which they must have been because her daughter giggled.
“Feel free to come and see me again,” he added.
Shandie wasn’t sure if he was talking to her or to Kayla or to them both and as she reached the doorway to the garage she glanced over her own shoulder to see if she could tell.
But all she saw was Dax Traub smiling again, crookedly, and with enough mischief to leave more questions than answers.
And to confirm what she’d garnered from the things she’d heard said about him even before she’d met him—that Dax Traub was trouble.
Fun trouble.
But definitely trouble.
Which was the last thing Shandie Solomon was looking for.
Chapter Two
Tuesday was unbelievably busy for Shandie. The days before any holiday were usually booked solid with people wanting to look their best for upcoming celebrations, and even without an established client list she had back-to-back appointments scheduled. She also ended up dealing with a disgruntled plumber, construction havoc, an electrician who wanted to cut off all the power rather than only a section of the shop at a time, and two trips to the bakery to replenish the goodies she was using as incentive to keep customers coming in during the remodeling.
Along with getting Kayla to and from preschool and making sure her daughter was taken care of once Kayla was at the shop afterward, it certainly seemed to Shandie that that should have been more than enough to keep her mind occupied. And yet thoughts of Dax Traub had still managed to creep through the cracks when she least expected them.
It was a problem she’d had since she’d met him the previous day. The whole way home, the entire evening with Kayla, as Shandie had tried reading in bed the night before, Dax Traub had intruded.
He’d been on her mind the moment her alarm had snatched her from sleep this morning, too. He’d plagued her thoughts all through getting herself and her daughter ready for the day. But she’d been convinced that getting to work, pouring herself into her job, would finally put an end to it.
Only it hadn’t. And as she escorted the last customer out of the shop, told Kayla to pick up her toys and headed for the laundry room to fold clean towels for Wednesday, Shandie was frustrated with herself.
Of course, she might have had better luck not thinking about Dax Traub today at work if the subject of him hadn’t come up again and again throughout the day, she thought. Women customers she didn’t know and who would otherwise not have drawn her notice had made her all-ears at the repeated mention of his name.
Not that the conversations about him had been particularly enlightening. They’d been basically speculation and curiosity about whether or not he would go to the big pre-Thanksgiving dinner his friends were having Wednesday evening at The Rib Shack, the new restaurant Dax’s brother, D.J., had just returned to Thunder Canyon to open at the ski resort. There was particular concern about
a recent fistfight between the brothers and whether it might be repeated if Dax did go.
There was also concern about Dax himself. Apparently, none of his old friends knew what was up with him lately or how to bring him out of his funk, or whether it was better to leave him to sort through his problems on his own, whatever those problems were—and no one was completely clear about that, either.
There was something she was perfectly clear about, however, Shandie thought as she stood at the dryer folding towels. When she added the information she’d gathered about Dax Traub—vague though it was—to the other things she’d heard through the grapevine, she knew it was that much more ridiculous for her to be giving the man a second thought.
So why had the image of him, the memory of the sound of his voice and every word he’d said, followed her through the past twenty-four hours like a stubborn ghost determined to haunt her? Why had she seized every opportunity to come into this laundry room and peer out the window at the alley and the rear of the motorcycle shop?
And, each time she had, why had she felt a hint of hope that she would catch a glimpse of the man himself, and then been let down when she hadn’t?
It doesn’t matter why, she told herself as she suffered the gazillionth wave of that disappointment when—in the course of folding the towels—she’d just gone through the whole process once again. It didn’t matter why she’d been so distracted by thoughts of Dax Traub or that she’d been peeking out at his shop to catch sight of him—it just needed to stop.
“So stop it,” she ordered under her breath even as her gaze drifted through the glass to the rear of his place.
She wanted to. She honestly did. Thunder Canyon was a fresh start for her. Leaving Denver and all the reminders of Pete was a big step, and she’d finally been able to take it because she was ready to move on. The past three and a half years had been rough, but she’d made her way through it all and she honestly felt as if she’d come out on the other side of a mountain. She’d even talked to Judy about maybe dating once she got to Thunder Canyon.
But maybe dating—down the road, at some point—some ordinary nice guy who Judy might possibly set her up with or who she might meet here, was different than being consumed with thoughts of a guy she’d only exchanged a few words with. A guy who—although he was hellaciously handsome—was clearly complicated. Who apparently didn’t have a good relationship with his own family. A guy who might have a chip on his shoulder and who—at the very least—obviously didn’t have much staying power when it came to women if he already had a divorce under his belt and had impulsively become engaged and then unengaged to someone.
That was not just some nice, ordinary guy she might possibly, under the right circumstances, consider going to dinner with or seeing a movie with as her first dip-of-the-toe into the dating pool again. That was a guy to stay far, far away from. For her own sake and for Kayla’s.
Especially for Kayla’s sake, she told herself firmly.
She absolutely would not put her daughter in the vicinity of anyone Kayla might come to care about or depend on, only to have that person turn his back on them.
No, Pete was a hard act to follow. He’d been a genuinely, thoroughly good man. A trustworthy, caring, unselfish, dependable, feet-on-the-ground man. A man she and Kayla could have counted on forever, had fate not intervened.
A man who couldn’t easily be replaced and would have to be lived up to if ever anyone was in the running to replace him.
And not only was Dax Traub not in the running to replace Pete—nor was there any evidence that he wanted to be—but even if he was, Dax Traub was about the most unlikely man to ever take the place of Pete Solomon.
So, she really did need to stop thinking about Dax Traub. And picturing him and his dark, deep eyes and how she’d felt as if they could heat the surface of her skin when they were aimed at her, and how sexy he was when he smiled.
No, Dax Traub was just someone nice to look at. But only from a long way away. Like lions at the zoo. He was a sight to see, to gaze upon, to appreciate the glory of from a distance. But only trained lion tamers should get in the cage with him.
“And that isn’t me,” Shandie muttered as she folded the towels.
She was just the mother of a three-year-old who was going to put the towels away once they were folded and take Kayla home for dinner and a quiet evening. Just the two of them. Safe and sound and secure and comfortable.
Far outside the lion’s den.
“I wan’ a peanut butter and marsh’ allow sam’ich for dinner.”
Shandie would have taken issue with her daughter’s announcement as she applied the car key to the ignition, but when the engine didn’t start that became the priority.
“Just a minute,” she told her daughter, postponing the conversation as she tried again.
But again nothing happened.
“Uh-oh,” she said. “Something’s wrong with the car.”
“Turn it on,” Kayla suggested logically.
“I’m trying,” Shandie said as she did just that, making four more attempts. All with no result. “Great.”
For the first time since Dax Traub had been popping into her head for no reason, Shandie welcomed the intrusion. Because it suddenly occurred to her that the man owned and operated his own motorcycle shop. That he repaired the things. And if he could make them run, maybe he could make her car run, too.
If he hadn’t closed up for the day and gone home already.
She quickly got out from behind the wheel of her sedan, took Kayla from the car seat in the back and carried the little girl for a fast return trip to the Clip ’n Curl.
“You said we wuz goin’ home,” Kayla complained. “And I wan’ peanut butter and marsh’ allow—”
“The car is broken, and we need some help.”
Kayla accepted that without further comment, and Shandie wasted no time rushing with her daughter through the dark beauty shop, through the laundry room to the utility space behind it.
The door that connected the motorcycle shop’s garage was closed but—gratefully—not locked. Much as she had the day before, Shandie knocked and went through to the garage without waiting for a response.
“Hello? Are you still here?” she called.
Dax Traub appeared at the doorway that connected the showroom, pulling a black leather aviator jacket on over a Henley sweater and jeans. “You lookin’ for me?” he asked.
Too many times today, Shandie thought.
But what she said was, “I’m so glad I caught you. My car won’t start. I know motorcycles are your thing, but I thought maybe—”
“What’s it doing?”
“Hi!” Kayla said belatedly, brightly and as if she were thrilled to have this second encounter with the man.
Dax Traub paused to aim a just-as-thrilled-to-see-her smile at the child, winked at her and answered her greeting with a warm, “Hey, Kayla Jane Solomon.”
“Hey, Dax-like-Max-the-dog,” Kayla responded then, giggling with delight.
“The car’s not doing anything,” Shandie said when the two of them were finished with their playful exchange. “When I turn the key there’s a little clicking noise and that’s it.”
“How old is your battery?”
Shandie shrugged. “As old as the car—seven years.”
“That’s probably the problem. Are you parked somewhere I can get to it to give you a jump?”
Shandie hadn’t thought of the battery. “No, I’m nose-first in that little space on the side of the shop that’s big enough for only one car.”
He nodded. “I know that spot. But I’ll tell you what—the temperature’s dropping, it’s dark, and it’ll be tough to get to the battery at all in that cubbyhole of a parking place. So how about if I give you two a ride home, and tomorrow when it’s warmer and we have some daylight, I’ll take a look? Chances are I’ll be able to hook up your battery to my charger and that’ll take care of it. Otherwise, we’re going to have to tow you out of there an
d that’s more complicated and also something better done when I can see.”
Jump her…
Hook up his charger to her battery…
He hadn’t said any of that with any sort of under-tone or innuendo, and yet sexy undertones and innuendos were flitting through her brain anyway.
Such thoughts were hardly typical of her, and she didn’t know why it was happening to her now.
“I’m sure it’s just the battery,” she muttered to conceal what was going through her head. Then, forcing herself to focus on more mundane matters, she said, “I’ll have to get back here tomorrow, but I guess I can ask one of the other girls to bring me in.”
“Can we ride home on a big bike?” Kayla asked, excited by the idea.
Shandie hadn’t considered that possibility, and before Dax had answered her daughter she said, “Are you taking us home on the back of a motorcycle?”
He laughed wryly at her alarm. “No, I own a truck, too.” He nodded toward the utility room door behind her then. “Do you have to go back?”
“No, everything is locked up and turned off. This is the only unlocked door,” she said, poking a thumb over her shoulder at the panel she’d come through.
“That lock was broken when I set up here. I’ve never fixed it.”
“You probably should. It would keep little girls out,” Shandie said.
“Yeah, but the problem with that is that it would keep big girls out, too,” he countered pointedly and with the kind of smooth, easy-to-come-by charm Shandie was sure had earned him his bad-boy reputation.
She pretended not to catch the flirtatious under-tone even as something tingly erupted just beneath the surface of her skin. “I do need Kayla’s car seat out of my car,” she said. “I could go get it and bring it over here or you could pull your truck around and meet us—”
“Why don’t I just drive us all around the block? Kayla’ll be okay riding in your lap that long, won’t she?”
Family for the Holidays Page 2
