One Hundred Ways: An Aspen Cove Romance

by Collins, Kelly

  They unloaded her Jeep. Dalton told her to leave the tanks outside the building.

  “They’re safe,” she told him. “I did have them purged in case you heard the rumor floating around about what an idiot I am.”

  “There’s a rumor?” He carried the biggest of her two welders inside. It was a good thing Kathy didn’t know what they were worth, or she would have never let Riley have them.

  “Haven’t heard it, but is that why you’re not a fan of Luke’s? He’s a safety freak.”

  She rolled the smaller welder on a handcart she found near the back door. “Yep, he called me out at the bonfire. I took him my tags today to prove a point. You think he’ll get on a loudspeaker and make a public apology?”

  “We don’t have a public broadcasting system, but he’s a good guy. I’m sure he’ll make it up to you.”

  Once they brought in her metal scraps and tools, they looked around the mostly empty space.

  “Thanks for this.”

  Dalton gave her the Black family smile. One that carried a hint of mischief. “You may not thank me after all.” He moved to the door as if he needed a quick escape. “The tanks will be traded for full ones tomorrow. City Gas is coming by in the morning.”

  Riley felt the tears collect in her eyes. She thought she’d have to wait a while to get to work. “You didn’t have to do that.”

  Dalton put a hand on each side of the door and leaned forward. “But I did because Sam told me to. Like I said, you might not be grateful later.”

  She took a step toward him, and he took a step back. “Why is that?”

  “We have an ulterior motive for setting you up, but you’ll have to come to Bishop’s Brewhouse tonight so Sam can fill you in."

  She wanted to tell him she wasn’t a barfly kind of girl, but how could she refuse to go when they’d made it possible for her to come to Aspen Cove? She wasn’t homeless, jobless, or starving because of Sam, Dalton and Aunt Maisey. If they needed something from her, she’d do what it took to make it happen.

  “See you then.” Dalton pushed off the frame and disappeared down the dark corridor. “Shut the door behind you when you leave.”

  She yelled after him, “Will I get a key?”

  He walked back until his silhouette was visible. "You don’t need one. There’s no crime here to speak of, but the doors will lock behind you. Punch in 3315 on the keypad near the door. If you ever forget the code, the door near Sam’s studio hasn’t locked in months. We’re waiting for the electrician to order the part. See you at the Brewhouse. We’ll be there by seven.” He turned to walk away but stopped. “Almost forgot. There’s a warehouse of shelving and workbenches in the back. It’s across from the exit. Help yourself.”

  Riley tailed him toward the exit, but he was too fast to catch. When she got to the warehouse, her heart sang hallelujah. They had everything she could wish for.

  As she dragged what she needed to her space, she thought about Luke Mosier. He was everything she didn’t need, but he was something she might want.

  Chapter Ten

  Dripping with water, Luke exited the shower and grabbed a towel. The bar fell to the floor. “Damn rental.” It seemed each time he fixed something, another thing broke.

  Like most of the homes in Aspen Cove, his house was one inspection away from condemned, but at least the roof didn’t leak, and the water ran clear, unlike many of the turn of the century homes with original plumbing. There were even a few houses that still had a well with a spigot out back.

  He set the bar on the back of the toilet and wrapped the towel around his waist. It was time he made more solid plans for himself. He’d been in Aspen Cove for a while now. He knew he wanted to stay, so it made sense to find permanent lodging.

  He thought of the lot between Dalton’s and Cannon’s houses. That would be a sweet spot. He could picture living there. Raising a family. Teaching his sons and daughters how to fish. Those thoughts brought visions of his future wife. A week ago, his mind would have drawn a blank, but today he pictured a beautiful blonde who filled out a pair of jeans perfectly.

  The towel around his waist tented, and he shook his head.

  “Let it go.” He squirted shaving cream on his hand and rubbed it over his whiskers. “I can’t let it go.”

  This was only one problem with living by himself. He often held full conversations as if he were two people. The other was, when he cooked, he made enough to feed a family, which meant he generally ate the same thing all week.

  He shaved, dressed and grabbed his guitar. Tuesdays were open mic night at Bishop’s Brewhouse. Hopefully, Dalton would be there, and he could inquire about the lot. At thirty-four, Luke needed to think of his future.

  The weather was warm, and the walk to the Brewhouse cleared his head. He turned the corner to Main Street and saw the rig from the station backing into the garage.

  Luke sprinted toward the station with his guitar strapped to his back.

  Thomas hopped down from the driver’s seat. He tugged off his heavy yellow jacket and tossed it toward James. “Hang it for me, will ya?”

  “What happened? I didn’t get a call.” Luke pulled his guitar from his back and set it against the wall.

  “Abby happened.” Thomas scrubbed his eyes with his palms.

  “Another small kitchen fire?”

  Thomas shut the rig door and walked toward the break room.

  “Man, I swear when we showed up, she was fanning the flames. Either she’s the worst cook ever or she’s setting them on purpose to get us to her place.”

  Luke laughed. “She’s got a thing for you.” Abby Garrett never had a fire in her life until Thomas Cross moved into town. If anything was burning at Abby’s house, it was her passion for Luke’s second-in-command.

  He opened the fridge and pulled out two sodas, offering one up to Luke.

  “No, thanks. I’m heading off to Bishop’s for a beer. You want to join me?”

  Thomas popped his soda top and looked around the station. “I’m on call all night, but I might stop by for a soda.”

  “You should take her out. She’s a nice woman.” He walked over and unplugged the toaster. It was a habit he had since he heard about an old toaster igniting from a bad cord in the middle of the night.

  “Nah, man. While she might be nice and easy on the eyes, she’s not my type. She spends her days with insects. What the hell would we talk about?”

  Luke grinned. Ever since he’d met Abby, he’d memorized an arsenal of bee jokes but hadn’t found an opportunity to use them.

  “You can talk about music.”

  Thomas shrugged. “She’s probably a country junkie.”

  “Doubt it.” He looked to the ceiling like he was thinking, then gave Thomas an I’ve-got-it look. “I’d bet her favorite singer is Sting and her favorite group is the Bee Gees.”

  “You’re such an ass. No wonder you’re single, too.”

  “I’m single because I haven’t found the right one, but I’m looking.” He leaned against the counter. All this talk of women had him thinking about Riley.

  “Got your sights set on the hottie?” Thomas kicked off the cabinet and opened the fridge where he kept containers of chicken, rice, and broccoli. He pulled one of his pre-made meals out and stuck it in the microwave.

  “Are you talking about Riley?”

  Thomas laughed. “The fact you know who I’m talking about proves I’m right.”

  “Nope. I’m about as interested in Riley as you are in bees.” Luke knew Abby wasn’t Thomas’s type, not because she wasn’t attractive or nice, but because Thomas, while being a giant of a man, was actually afraid of bees. Each time a call came in to the station for Abby, he suited up in full gear. He claimed safety as his motivation, but everyone knew better. They’d seen him run buck naked from the station once when he found a bee in the bathroom.

  Luke held in a laugh. He was pretty sure Abby set that one up, too.

  “You’re such a liar.” He leaned forward and
smelled the air. “Cologne tonight?”

  “I shaved. I always use aftershave.”

  The microwave beeped, and Thomas pulled his meal out and headed for the table. “You shave every day, and you never smell that nice."

  He couldn’t argue with the man. Didn’t want to because he was right. Cologne wasn’t something Luke wore regularly, but he spritzed some on in case there was a chance he’d see a pretty blonde at the bar.

  “Be careful with that one. She plays with fire, but you might be the one to get burned. Don’t forget it’s her family who signs your paycheck.”

  “Wrong again, buddy. It’s me who signs yours.” Luke walked over and snatched a piece of broccoli from Thomas’s plate. “I’ll see you at the Brewhouse.”

  He picked up his guitar and headed for the bar. Tuesdays weren’t crazy busy, but there was a decent crowd when he walked inside.

  He scouted the place and found his heart sinking when Riley wasn’t present. He wasn’t sure what he liked best about her, the fact she was pretty or she was a contrast of character for him to figure out.

  He spied Dalton and Samantha at a table by the window. Seeing them made him think about the sweet piece of land by the lake.

  “Hey, you two, can I join you for a moment?”

  Samantha pointed to one of the empty chairs. “You gonna sing me a song?”

  He laughed. “Maybe I’m interviewing for a new job. Got a place for me in your band?” He set his guitar by the wall.

  Dalton chimed in, “Tired of holding your hose?”

  “Dude, you shouldn’t be talking about my hose in front of your fiancée.”

  Dalton leaned in and whispered, “I’m not worried. She’s marrying me for my kitchen skills.”

  Luke laughed. “I wouldn’t be bragging about that, man.”

  “You two need to stop.” Samantha put her hand gently on Dalton’s arm. “Honey, you know I fell in love with you when you used your pickup line.” She tapped her chin. “What was it… oh yeah: baby, if you were a fruit, you'd be a fineapple.”

  “He didn’t.”

  She laughed. “No, the first time I met him, he called me a boy and accused me of being an arsonist.”

  “Damn brain like a steel trap, my woman.” Dalton leaned over and kissed Samantha’s cheek. “But she is an arsonist. She set my heart on fire.”

  Luke made a retching sound. “I’m not sure I can handle this much cheese in one day.”

  “You’re the one who came to our table.” Dalton waved him off. “Leave if you’re not a fan of cheesy pick-up lines and true love.”

  “I’m a fan, all right, but that’s not why I stopped by your table.” He was never good at negotiating. Not a pro at going after what he wanted. He was more of a sideline guy and jumped on opportunities when they presented themselves, like Aspen Cove did. Going after something that wasn’t already offered wasn’t in his lane, but it was worth the risk.

  “If you’re here to ask for my cousin's hand in marriage, you’ll have to get her to like you first. She’s not a fan.”

  “Ha ha ha,” Luke flatlined. “You’re a real comedian tonight. I’m not after your cousin. I want something else that belongs to you.”

  Dalton lifted an eye. “You better start talking or running.”

  “Jeez, I swear sometimes I think the high altitude has frizzled everyone’s brain cells.” He shook his head hard enough to bruise a few of his own. “I wanted to ask about the lot next to your house. Are you going to build a McMansion on it, or would you be willing to sell it?”

  Samantha sat up. “You want my lot?” She beamed from ear to ear.

  “I’d like to lay down some roots, and a house on the lake seems like a great place to start.”

  “If I sell you my land, would you sign a contract to stay as the fire chief for life?”

  “Seriously? You’d blackmail me into staying for life?”

  Cannon came over and set a beer in front of Luke. “You gonna play or what?” He nodded toward the empty stage. “I’m only buying you beer if you play.”

  Luke loved this damn town and the people in it. He’d been there less than a year, but he felt like he’d known these people all his life. “I’ll play after I negotiate my life of servitude.”

  Cannon pushed the beer closer, and the bubbles splashed over the rim. “I’m only asking for a song.” He turned and walked away.

  He looked at Samantha and Dalton, who were whispering back and forth. It was Dalton who spoke first.

  "Sam got her insurance settlement. She’d been talking about rebuilding.”

  Luke nodded. “I get it. It would be a hard piece of land to give up. I’ll keep looking.” He made to stand, but Samantha reached out and touched his arm.

  “I’m not opposed to selling. I was going to rebuild the cabin and sell it anyway. Dalton and I want to keep the feel of the town the same. Wouldn’t be possible if I built a McMansion, as you called it. If we need more space, we’ll build up, not out.”

  Hope filled his heart. “You’ll consider selling it?”

  “I’d give it to you if you promised to stay,” Samantha answered.

  “I’m staying, but I’ll pay fair market price.”

  “Deal,” Sam and Dalton said in unison and picked up their glasses for a toast, which in Aspen Cove was kind of like a gentlemen’s agreement. Tapping glasses was as good as shaking hands.

  Luke said, “Doc can run some numbers, and we’ll go from there.” Doc Parker was not only one of the town’s doctors, he was also the real estate agent and the officiant at all the town weddings.

  Samantha turned to Dalton. “Look, honey, we came for a drink and to see Riley and ended up with a neighbor.”

  Luke knew the minute Riley walked into the bar. Being a male-heavy population, the presence of a new, pretty face always quieted the men. When the din was silenced, he figured it was either Riley or Big Foot. Both would mute a room, but there hadn’t been a Sasquatch sighting in the Rockies for years, so he was putting his money on Riley.

  He looked up to find her standing near the table. The look she gave him was all he needed to know. There wasn’t an ounce of forgiveness in those big, beautiful blue eyes. He’d hoped the few days he’d put between them would allow her time to get over her anger.

  He pulled his keys from his pocket and held them in front of her.

  As a reminder to himself not to jump to conclusions, he’d attached one of her purge tags.

  “Didn’t want to forget,” he said.

  “Asshole,” she hissed under her breath.

  “Time for me to go.” He palmed the neck of his guitar and picked up his beer to head to the stage.

  Chapter Eleven

  She dropped her frown and replaced it with a smile. “Hey, Cuz and Sam.” She slid into the seat Luke had vacated. It was warm and welcoming, the opposite of the man himself.

  “You get all moved in?”

  “I did,” she gushed. "I pulled a bunch of stuff in from the warehouse, like workbenches and shelving. Hope that’s okay.”

  “That what it’s there for. Glad you could use it.” Dalton signaled to Cannon, who rushed over.

  “Good to see you again, Riley. Wine or beer, or something stronger?”

  “Wine.” With a few dollars in her pocket from tips, she could afford a glass. “Red if you have it, white if you don’t.”

  “Red it is.” He went behind the bar and shoved the tabby cat off the register.

  “Does that cat have one eye?” Riley asked.

  Samantha laughed. “That’s Mike, and he fits in with us misfits.” The orange tabby swished by Riley’s legs and crawled onto the narrow ledge of the window. “Sage’s dog Otis has three legs. Charlie and Trig’s dog Clovis has a thyroid issue, so he looks like a footstool.”

  “Then I should fit right in.”

  “You’ll be fine here.” Dalton leaned back. “You’re a Black; no one is going to mess with you.”

  She hated to burst his bubble, but sever
al people were messing with her already. The top two on her list were Meg and Luke.

  She turned to Samantha. “Dalton said you had an ulterior motive for giving me the space at the Guild Creative Center.”

  Sam didn’t even look at him before she slugged him in the arm. “I never said that. You could have the space no matter what, but I thought maybe a good way to get you started on your craft would be to give you a project.” She looked up at Dalton. “It’s a good thing he’s handsome and can cook, because he’d make an awful secretary.”

  Looking at them warmed Riley’s heart. It was nice to see true love at work.

  “Tell me what you need. I’m still working on my craft, but I’m willing to try anything. I owe you.”

  Sam shook her head. “You don’t owe us a thing. In fact, we’ll pay for the supplies and your time.”

  “What’s this project?” She knew this wasn’t the time to argue about payment. There was no way she’d charge Dalton and Sam anything. They’d opened up a world of opportunities for her by giving her a space to work. That gift was priceless.

  Sam leaned in. She was a tiny thing, with long, dark hair and a hundred-watt smile. “The benefits concert is called Music On Fire, and I thought it might be cool to have some pyrotechnics. Then I thought it would be cooler if I could have a piece of art that flames shot out of.” She sipped her beer and bounced in her seat. “Cooler yet if it could be a guitar or something like that.”

  There was a tap on the microphone, and all heads turned to Luke, who took a drink of his beer and set it at his feet.

  “Hey, y’all. I’m dedicating this first song to a girl. She’ll know who she is.” He tuned his guitar and began to play.

  Riley looked around the room for the girl he was singing to, but there didn’t seem to be a lot of single females in the bar. When she looked back at him, he was staring at her singing a song about his stupid mouth.

  “Something going on between you two?” Sam lifted a perfectly plucked brow.

  Riley let her breath out in a laugh. “No, no, no, there’s absolutely nothing going on between us. He’s an asshole.”