by Taryn Quinn
Or it would feel like that if she didn’t stop making rationalizations and thinking about how mature Michael seemed for his age, even more mature than she was in some ways. A number didn’t mean more than they let it.
Bah. Who was she kidding? This particular number meant plenty, since he’d lied to her. That was an even more salient point. He’d already knocked her way off balance with his bearing and his wealth and his desire to watch her pleasure herself brainless rather than fuck her that way. The lie tipped the scales firmly in the negative.
Time to go.
She jerked to her feet and folded up the blanket she’d cuddled with all night. She looked around, making sure the place wasn’t a mess. Nice and tidy as far as the eye could see.
Should she leave a note? A simple thank you would suffice. He didn’t have her phone number but he probably had Randall’s since he worked with him at the rec center. If he wanted to connect with her, he could.
No, no note. She’d lose some politeness points but she needed to send a message. Sneaking out before dawn should do the trick.
She found her purse in the foyer and took a quick detour to the bathroom on her way out. All she wanted was to go home and sleep in her own bed. If she encountered Brad and Sara and their late-night party on the way to her own room, she’d apologize profusely.
When she opened the door to a fucking blizzard, she decided Mother Nature clearly wanted to screw with her. Too bad she refused to be deterred. She marched out into the snow, cursing her thin-soled ballet flats and the slush slipping inside her shoes. This night was getting better and better.
She dug the snowbrush out of her trunk—first use this season, yay—and went to work on her windows, glad she’d decided to head home now rather than later. Thank God she’d awakened when she did. If the snow kept up, the road would soon be impassable.
Tossing her brush back inside the car, she blew a mouthful of snowy hair out of her face and viewed her surroundings. The spot that had contained Michael’s truck was empty, the tracks almost filled in with snow. So not only was he barely legal and a liar and a little weird to boot, he’d also taken off early without saying goodbye.
Like you did?
Not going there. She had reasons. As he might too, like the early day he’d mentioned the night before. Still, she was pretty sure his fancy plantation contained paper and a pen. She had reason to be mad at him. He had none.
She got in the car and backed carefully down the drive, relieved she’d already put on her winter tires. For once she was ahead of the game. With Pennsylvania winters tending to start early, she’d learned better safe than sorry.
Except when it came to men.
To distract herself, she turned up the radio and sang along with some seventies disco classic, making up the words when she didn’t know them. Her mood improved significantly as she navigated through the wooded winter wonderland that made up Michael’s neighborhood, one eye on the road ahead and the other on the few houses scattered about. She wondered which one was Randall’s. If he lived in such a fancy place, why did he teach at the rec center?
Obviously she had different ideas of what to do with oodles of wealth than these guys did. If she ever made it rich, she’d work part-time and spend the rest of the year lazing by her indoor pool.
The car shuddered over a rut in the road, shimmied and sputtered forward. “Uh-oh.” She clutched the wheel. Why did her engine sound so clunky? Maybe she was dragging something and it wasn’t the engine at all. The wind and the music obliterated some of the sound. She turned down the radio in time for the car to shudder to a halt after doing a rather impressive fishtail that threatened to heave Kim’s heart out of her chest.
This damn car had given her nothing but trouble for months. First Brad had fixed a problem with her exhaust, then she’d gotten a flat tire. Now this.
“Dammit to fuck tarts.” She waited a minute, praying loudly, before trying the ignition again. It clicked but didn’t turn over. The same thing happened the next three times.
She dug out her cell phone and rubbed her freezing hand over the condensation forming over the windshield. All she could see was snow, piling up way too fast. And now she was shaking, thanks to the fact she was only wearing a sweater and now had no heat. She didn’t even know where she was.
Luckily her brother was a master mechanic and owned the best shop in town. She had no doubt he’d get her back on the road in a hurry. Assuming she could give him adequate directions to locate her, something that seemed extremely unlikely since the only landmarks appeared to be trees.
She could always walk back to Michael’s. She couldn’t have gone all that far.
“Dammit.” She hit the speed dial for Brad’s phone. He always kept it on in case of emergencies at the shop, particularly in the winter when they could get shorthanded if several trucks were called upon to help stranded motorists.
When the call went straight to voicemail, she swore a blue streak. Again. What was up with her luck lately?
Next she called Brad’s shop, hoping like hell that someone was manning the phones. It was early yet but Brad prided himself on being Fairdale’s even-better answer to the national roadside-assistance club. Usually Bob was working the phones—
“O’Halloran’s,” came the gruff reply.
“Bob, thank God. My car’s dead. I need one of you guys out here ASAP. I’m going to freeze. I don’t have a coat or gloves—”
“Kim? That you?”
“It’s me,” she said through chattering teeth.
“You know better than to motor in the winter without proper emergency supplies. You should have a fully stocked kit.”
That was her, the wild and dangerous motorist. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I have granola bars and a blanket but right now I’m more worried about getting away from where I am.” Quickly, before Michael wandered by.
“Are you in an unsafe location? Give me your address. I’ll dispatch the new guy right away.”
Another new guy. Great. Lately Brad had been dealing with a revolving turnstile of employees. One had left the area, another had retired. The last time she’d had to call she’d gotten some young guy who’d spent more time looking at his clipboard than at her face. Since she’d been occupied with the rude texts her ex had insisted on sending rapid-fire, she’d barely looked at him herself while he changed her tire. She’d felt bad afterward, since she prided herself on knowing all of Brad’s employees. O’Halloran’s was kind of their family business, though technically she had no stake in it.
“Kim?”
“Yeah.” She climbed out of the vehicle to look around, instantly regretting it when a gust of wind almost blew her backward. Clutching the door, she tried to make out something other than trees and snow but it was pretty much a lost cause. Then her gaze landed on a weathered street sign. “Old Hollow Way,” she said, relieved. “I’m in a section that only has a couple of houses, really spaced out. I’m on the side of the road.” She frowned as she judged the distance to the nearest lawn. Okay, so not exactly. “Close enough.”
“What the heck are you doing way out there? That’s on the outskirts of town.”
“Trust me, you don’t want to know. So do you think you can find me?”
“We’ll find you,” Bob said, his confidence reassuring. “Now turn on your hazards, get out that blanket and those granola bars and wait in your vehicle. Lock all the doors. We’ll be there in a jiff.”
“Thank you.”
“No sweat. But make sure you put gloves and a spare coat in your trunk. For me, Kim.”
She had to smile, thinking of the snowy-haired elderly gentleman Brad had employed for years. “I will. Thanks. You’re a lifesaver.”
She hung up, collected the things Bob had insisted she needed and locked herself in. Maybe the tow-truck driver would find her without too much difficulty. Surely she was due a little luck.
“Got a call out on Old Hollow Way.”
Michael frowned. Old Hollow Way was in his neck
of the woods. Literally. He picked up the clipboard hanging on the wall and shrugged into his jacket. “What number?”
“No number. She was a little turned around. Look, it’s a special situation. She’s the boss man’s older sister. So get there as fast as you can without getting pulled over. Though you didn’t hear that from me.” Bob winked.
The back of Michael’s neck chilled even as he wound his scarf around his neck. Kim wouldn’t have raced out into the night in this weather after the night she’d had, would she? She wasn’t some waif and she’d had time to sleep off the half bottle of champagne she’d knocked back, but still. She didn’t even know where she was going.
All of which fit the driver Bob had described. The boss man’s older sister. Oh shit.
“Got it. I’ll be in touch.” Michael pushed open the door, thought twice about it at the blast of cold air and reached back to take the travel mug of piping-hot coffee Bob was already holding out. “Thanks, pal.”
“No problem. If I’m sending you into the belly of the beast, you should at least get something to cut the chill for your trouble.”
Michael smiled and headed out to the truck, climbing up and setting the mug in the holder before getting down to clean off the windows. He’d already been out once in the hour since he’d been there, for an off-the-road vehicle near the center of town. Heading back home would take longer.
After he brushed the windows clear, he hopped up in the cab and put the truck in gear, taking it slow out of the parking lot while Bob was watching. The second he’d gotten past the older man’s sightline he picked up the pace, thumbing open the travel mug as he drove. Bob had said to get there fast but he was certain they had different ideas about what was an acceptable rate of speed in a tow truck.
It took him almost a half hour to get to Old Hollow Way between the snow and the fender bender he’d felt behooved to stop for. After ascertaining that the couple in the vehicle were okay and had provisions while they waited for the police, he took off, his only thought getting to Kim. If it was Kim. Something he was more sure of with every passing moment.
He’d made it almost to the end of Old Hollow Way—and nearly back to his place—when he glimpsed the small dark sedan pointing nose-first toward the side of the road. He swallowed. That was Kim’s car, unless he’d happened to come across the only two vehicles with Rolling Stones studded tongue bumper stickers.
She’d fled before dawn to avoid him. Great sign.
Smothering a sigh, he pulled the truck up behind her and flipped on the flashers. He popped up his hood and got down, already steeling himself for the conversation to come.
Kim opened her door before he’d taken two steps and hustled out of the car, tightly gripping the blanket around her shoulders. “You found me. You’re a damn near miracle worker. I—” Words eaten by the storm. “I ate two granola bars and they were both stale and then I realized if I got left out here I’d have no sustenance. Then I—” She stopped talking as he lowered his hood long enough for their gazes to connect. “Oh my fucking God. You cannot be serious.” He tried to tell himself she was now shouting to make herself heard, but he wasn’t entirely sure. “Did you hotwire my brother’s truck?”
He had to laugh, hard enough that the wind stole his breath and left his lungs aching. “No. Your brother is my boss.”
“Since when? Since how? You don’t need a job.” Apparently the questions needed further punctuation because she started hitting his chest with a closed fist. Through his thick quilted jacket, it was equivalent to being struck with a feather. “You’re mega rich. Does my brother know you’re pretending to be middle class?”
He looked down at her reddened knuckles and something inside him twisted. Kim and her stubborn self-sufficiency got to him, way down deep. She might complain but she’d always be able to take care of herself.
Pulling off the fingers of his gloves with his teeth, he fitted them onto her hands while she sputtered and continued to pelt him with questions he ignored. Once he’d slid the second one on, she let out a purely feminine moan that blazed heat straight into his groin. “Sheepskin? I can’t hold out against that.”
“Good. You don’t need to. They’re yours for as long as you need them. I have a spare pair in the truck.” What he didn’t have was a spare jacket but that didn’t stop him from whipping off his and after removing the thin blanket she wore, slipping it over her shoulders. “There.” He tipped up her chin, resisting the urge to kiss the snow off her full lips. “Better?”
“Yeah. Thank you.” Even with the storm raging around them, there was no missing the reluctance of her admission.
“Now what’s wrong with your car?” he asked, heading back to his truck to get the extra gloves.
She followed. “It stopped dead when I was—”
“Running away from my place?” He yanked open the passenger door and grabbed the spare pair out of the glove compartment.
“Not running. Driving sedately. Besides, you were already gone so who are you to judge?”
“I had to go to work.” He pulled on the gloves and shut the door. “I intended to take an early break and stop back before you’d need to leave to go to work.”
“In the same clothes I wore yesterday? What kind of skeez do you think I am?”
Huh, he hadn’t thought of that part. “I forgot you’d need new clothes. I haven’t been in this situation very often.” Try ever.
“Which situation? Having a woman you barely know spend the night after drinking your expensive bubbly or the one where a woman finds—”
“Shh.” He covered her lips with his gloved fingers. “Let’s deal with your car first, okay?”
“I hate reasonable men.”
Chuckling, he headed over to her car and opened the door to pull the hood release. “No, you don’t. You hate that you like me.”
Chapter Five
Kim tried not to ogle Michael while he worked under her hood. Really, she did. He wore a thin sweater that rode up his muscled back as he twisted and screwed and wrenched. The waistband of his black boxers peeked over the top of his jeans. His boxers had some kind of cartoon character on them but hell if she could make out what. He probably wouldn’t appreciate her yanking down his jeans to see for herself.
“Any ideas what the problem is?” she asked after handing him the wrench he’d been looking for. Hey, growing up with a mechanic brother, it was impossible not to learn some stuff through osmosis.
“Your fuel injector looks clogged. How often do you run a treatment through it?”
“Never. I thought that was one of the add-ons shady dealers tried to sell you that no one really needs.”
He shot her a look. “Brad’s your brother?”
Defensively, she clamped her arms over her chest. “So?”
“Have him explain some stuff to you sometime. Might save you another morning spent on the side of the road. Get inside and try to start it, please.”
“Yes, sir.” She didn’t bother hiding her surly expression as she clomped through the snow to get inside her vehicle. She’d definitely learned plenty through osmosis with Brad but obviously not enough.
She gave the engine a crank. It sputtered to life and she grinned for the approximately thirty seconds the car ran before conking out again. “What the hell?” she yelled out the open door.
“Think your fuel pump’s bad too,” he yelled back over the wind. “And the battery’s corroded. How old is it?”
She tried to think back. “I don’t know. Two years? A while. I don’t commit this stuff to memory.”
“Try it,” he suggested, leaning his arm on the car frame like a human shield against the blowing snow. “I’m going to need to tow it in. Want to ride with me in the truck?”
“Not really.” You liar who lies.
Although, overall, he did seem to be a pretty nice guy. The puzzle pieces of his life didn’t exactly add up, true. He could be lying about more than his age. Maybe he’d gotten that fancy house through drug deal
ing or something equally nefarious. He could be in the mob. She would be stupid to trust him after finding out he’d lied during the first conversation they’d had, not to mention the oddness—hot oddness—that was last night.
Snow had collected on his dark hair and starred his eyelashes. “Want me to call Brad?”
So she could explain to her brother why she’d refused a ride back with his tow truck driver? Absolutely not. And that was if he even answered his phone. “No. I’ll ride back with you. Just don’t…don’t try anything.”
He gave her a tight-lipped smile. “I’ll try to resist the urge.”
She grabbed her purse and climbed out of the car. “Funny guy.”
“Get inside.” He jogged to his vehicle and started it up before returning to her. “There’s coffee and the heater’s pretty good.”
“Stop being nice to me.”
“Okay,” he said pleasantly. “Stand out here and freeze.”
She got in the truck. And drank half his coffee before he made it back inside.
“I owe you,” she muttered, clutching the travel mug with hands that still faintly trembled. The chill had snuck under her skin, icing over her bones.
He flicked on the turn signal and pulled away from the side of the road. “I know how you could pay me back.”
“By buying you an extra-large cup from the Dunkin’ near the shop so you don’t have to drink more of this swill?”
“You’ve been drinking that swill.”
“Beggars and choosers and all that. Besides, I’ve been choking down this coffee almost as long as you’ve been alive.” Whoops. She winced. Elephant in the corner, come on in, the water’s fine.
The heavy-lidded look he shot her warmed up her frozen nipples. And the rest of her. “You’re not that much older than me.”
“Try fourteen years, Romeo. I checked out your driver’s license.” At his sharp look, she pursed her lips. “You’re the one who forgot to hide your lie better so don’t blame me for being a snoop.”
