by Cindi Madsen
This was why she hadn’t told Maya about Mountain Ridge. Growing up, she’d talked about the B and B, but she doubted Maya had given it a second thought now that Quinn was working with Chichi. As much as she loved her sister, she’d never been good at keeping secrets. Even if she managed to not say anything to their parents, she’d tell Steven, and then Grayson and the rest of the Rutherfords would find out, and as Chichi had pointed out, their business connections were important.
It’d be a miracle if they didn’t find out about Heath and freak out about it, actually. From now on, she’d keep their dates in town to a minimum, the way she’d meant to back before she lost her mind over the guy. The rumor mill would still churn with speculation, but as long as it didn’t get to be too newsworthy, maybe it’d stay in the confines of Hope Springs.
If only that didn’t mean facing the other problem: whenever she was alone with him, they tiptoed closer and closer to the line she’d have to draw in the sand, and then she worried it’d be over, and she so wasn’t ready to stop kissing Heath Brantley.
Maybe they weren’t in a serious relationship, but no other guy had bothered to look into her culture. Her heart skipped a few beats just thinking about how sweet it was that he’d cared enough to do so.
“I thought you were over this stage,” Maya said. “Don’t you remember how awful it was in high school when you and the parents were constantly at war? Because I do. It made everything so tense, and I had to play peacemaker and deal with the fallout when it didn’t work.”
Maya had covered for her several times in the name of keeping the peace, and she’d ended up grounded along with Quinn more than once. But Heath likes the impulsive side of me. I like that side of me.
“I’m just not cut out for the trophy wife life, Maya.”
Instead of Maya softening, offense pinched her features. “You think that’s what I am? Because I’m choosing to support my husband and have different goals that don’t revolve around a career?”
“No, that’s not what I mean.”
Maya stood. “You know what? Go ahead and chase after the bad boy and then somehow be shocked when he’s only interested in sex. But this time when you’re crying and brokenhearted, it’s going to be really hard to not tell you I told you so.”
“Maya, wait.”
Her sister didn’t slow her stride or even glance back. She charged up the stairs, and if Steven was already asleep, he certainly wouldn’t be anymore, thanks to the slamming door.
Quinn Sakata, putting her foot in her mouth since she could talk. Expressing her opinion often meant tension at home, between her and Maya or her and her parents. Sometimes she hit the trifecta and got all three. Then she’d hear the lecture about where rebellion led—ruined reputation, no trust, no husband, going nowhere fast, general ruining of everything.
She’d always hated that being herself was called rebellion. Why couldn’t they just call it individual thinking? Several countries had gained freedom because of so-called rebellion. She thought about Sobo Machi, a twinge going through her at missing someone who got it. Someone who would be on her side and tell her to use her strong spirit to fight for what she wanted.
Once I get the B and B up and running, it’ll be better. Little by little they’d see she was perfectly capable of making her own decisions. Or maybe they wouldn’t, but she wouldn’t be living so close to them, so it wouldn’t matter.
Her phone chimed and she opened up the text message.
I’m home. About to crawl into my bed and think about what we didn’t get a chance to finish.
Under other circumstances, it’d be sweet, but now she was thinking about Maya’s accusation. Earlier Heath had said she was in the driver’s seat, but how long would it be before he got sick of waiting and decided to take someone else for a ride?
Like with Adam “No Labels” Asshole, her non-relationship with Heath meant she didn’t have claim on him, either, so he was free to do so, no need to even tell her about it. Toxic jealousy churned in her gut, the idea of him with another woman eating away at her.
Maybe I should just give up on this…whatever it is…now, like Maya clearly wants me to, and my parents no doubt would insist on.
Her phone chirped again.
There are some sketchy-looking dudes in my neighborhood. Want to come guard my body?
Quinn grinned, a flutter chasing away the icky sensation. Then she thumbed a reply.
Guard. Kiss. I could do a little of both.
Now you’re talking my language.
Thanks for checking in. Sweet dreams and I’ll see you tomorrow. xoxo
Dirty dreams & I can’t wait.
Like the sap she was whenever Heath was involved, she pressed her phone over her heart, as if she could absorb the words and hold them forever that way. A tingle traveled from there all the way down to her toes.
So what if she got hurt in the end? She always did, so that was nothing new. Until then, she was going to enjoy this rush of flirting with a hot guy and anticipating the next time she got to press her lips to his.
Chapter Fourteen
Quinn pulled up to Rod’s Auto Repair and got out of her car. The air held a touch of crisp coolness that would burn off in an hour or so, but meant that fall was creeping in. Another week or two and the leaves would change colors and the town would transform into an idyllic little slice of heaven, where everyone would be decked out in scarves and hats, the diner would have a new pie of the day, and the town would prepare for harvest time. Hopefully she’d be here for it, too.
Rubbing her arms and wishing for pants instead of the shorts she’d put on, she rushed across the parking lot and ducked into the repair shop.
A man she vaguely recognized sat behind the desk. He glanced up at her and for a moment she just stared, thinking about how his greenish-bluish-whatever-colorish eyes matched Heath’s and Oliver’s.
He didn’t look quite old enough to be Heath’s dad, although she was relatively sure that’s who he was. For a man on the older side, he had a rugged handsomeness that transcended age. At the same time, there was something about the way he eyed her that made her nerves stand on edge and had her wishing for pants again.
Suddenly, it hit her—where she’d seen him before. Back in high school she’d watched a fight break out at the Triple S and they’d dragged him out of the place as he’d spouted enough swearwords to make her look like an amateur. Back then stepping inside Seth’s Steak and Saloon, even if only for the best steak in town, ran a very high risk of someone mentioning it to her parents, which usually resulted in a couple weeks’ grounding.
The man in front of her had quite the rep for being the town drunkard, and for buying beer for underage teens if you gave him enough to cover a six-pack for himself as well.
“What can I do for you?” he asked, pulling her out of her mixed-feelings stroll down memory lane. “Or are you looking for the nail salon? Because it’s a few shops down.” He tilted his head as his gaze traveled down her. “You look like you’d belong there more than here.”
She didn’t know if he meant because she was Asian and should be doing the nail care or because she looked like a ditzy girl who only cared about mani-pedis. Either way, she decided to ignore the jab and go for one of her own. “Wow, the sign was so unclear about you being an auto shop. You should totes do something about that.”
He huffed a laugh. “All right, darlin’, fair point. What can I do for you?”
“Actually, I’m looking for—”
Heath burst in from the door leading to the garage. “Hey.” He turned to his dad. “I got it, Pop. Quinn’s here for some bodywork.”
His dad’s eyes homed in on her bare legs again, and Heath cleared his throat as he stepped between him and her. She wasn’t sure what passed between them, but he must’ve mouthed something. Then he said, “Quinn, this is my dad, Rod Brantley. Dad, Quinn. We’re going to be in the garage.”
Without leaving time for any further exchange, Heath took Quinn’s hand
and led her into the garage.
“Sorry about that,” he said. “He has this thing for younger women and unfortunately enough of them have fallen for it that he decides to hit on every pretty girl who comes into the shop. It’s embarrassing. If we weren’t one of the few shops in town, it’d probably be bad for business, too.”
While the exchange had been a bit odd, her main worry right now was the tense line of Heath’s jaw. She tipped onto her toes and kissed it. “Was there someone else in there? Once you stepped in, all I saw was you.”
He wrapped an arm around her and kissed her until her knees threatened to give way. When his appraising gaze ran down her body, heating every place it touched, she didn’t mind in the least—funny how that worked. “Dang, you’re always short, but when you don’t have on the heels, you’re almost pocket-size.”
She scowled, and he pressed a kiss to the wrinkle between her brows. “No getting pissed off already. I like it—I’d gladly keep you in my pocket.” He flashed her his cocky smile, grabbed her hand, and led her over to the far corner of the shop.
Heath shed his leather jacket, revealing a snug black T-shirt that showed off his colorful tattooed arms and the studded black cuff around his wrist, and then stepped into faded blue coveralls with a rod’s auto repair patch over the pocket. Shame covering up all that sexy ink, although the hot mechanic look totally worked for him as well.
He eyed her pale pink top, most likely thinking, like she was, that maybe it hadn’t been the best choice for today. “I’d better get you a pair, too. Gotta teach you how to take care of dents, since I’m sure it’s not the only one you’ll get in your fancy car, especially if you’re going to be taking on any more Hope Springs wildlife.”
After a moment riffling through a cupboard, he brought out another pair of faded blue coveralls. Regardless of the fact that anyone could tell from a mile away that they were too big, he held them up to her.
“I’d look like a hobo in these,” she said, kicking out at the spare fabric piled on the floor near her feet.
“A very cute hobo.”
“So a very cute hobo snob? Seems like an impossible combination.”
“Yet you manage to pull it off.” Heath tossed aside the giant coveralls. “So, you just wanna watch, then?”
“Oh, I’ll be watching, but I can help, too. I don’t mind getting a little dirty.”
His eyes sparked at that, a dozen ideas she assumed were dirty flickering through them. How did they manage to turn everything into an innuendo when they were together? And what would he do when he found out she couldn’t follow through? Call her a tease? A prude? A bitch? She’d been called all three and every other variation in between.
Just focus on the here and now. “Do you want me to pull in the car?”
“I’ll do it. We’re full-service here.”
She dropped the keys into his hand and then watched him get into her car. Within a few minutes he had it up on lifts, his tools out, and her car door open. “The paint’s not scratched, which is good because we’d need to order it in,” he said. “But I think we’ll be able to just open up the door and pop it out.”
“Yeah, that’s totally what I was thinking. Guess we actually agree on something.”
The smile he shot her ignited an intense spark of want that she’d never felt so strongly with any other guy. If she’d been sitting, she would’ve crossed her legs and gulped about a gallon of water, but all she could do in the garage was stand there and let it overwhelm her.
The temperature and staggering attraction only increased as he pulled out his tools and got to work on her car door, making it that much harder to pay attention as he explained every step. Disconnecting wires—like she’d ever try that herself. Then the screws and tabs—maybe she could do that step, but he seemed to magically know where everything was, and she hadn’t even known her car door had screws or tabs until now. Her gaze drifted to his whiskered jaw, his perfect lips. To those hands and how good he was with them.
He set the inside of her car door aside and then only the metal shell remained. He picked up a mallet-like hammer. “See the dent? Now we’re just going to work it out.”
We. Right. He tapped it out and then studied the other side. She stepped around after him and ran her hand over the smooth surface. “Wow, like magic.”
“That’s me. A regular magician,” he said. “By the way, how long has it been since you had an oil change?”
She grimaced—she’d meant to take it in last month, but she’d been busy, and with all the miles she’d put on going to Casper and then here a few times…
“Guess we’ll take care of that for you, too,” he said, swiping his hand across the small of her back as he moved to return the tools to his kit.
A few minutes later, they were both under the car. “Okay, twist that off,” Heath instructed.
As soon as she got the bolt loose, dirty oil ran down, coating her fingertips before running into the pan. She turned to him, holding her blackened fingers in front of his face.
“Hey, I told you that you should wear the coveralls.”
“Well, you’re wearing them. Let’s see how much they help.” She swiped the black across his cheek. He grabbed her wrist and twisted her hand toward her face. “Heath, no!”
With a quick push, her dirty fingers were against her cheek. He dragged them down her neck, her attempts to break free met with iron resistance. “What? You can dish it out, but you can’t take it?”
She reached into the dirty pan with her free hand, getting more disgusting oil on her fingers, and then flung it at him. Playing with toxic materials was probably a don’t, but she still laughed at his shocked expression. Then he grabbed her and rubbed his dirty face on hers, his whiskers tickling her neck and making her squeal.
She shoved his chest, leaving more smudges. In one lightning-quick movement, he clasped her hands, forced them behind her back, and encircled both of her wrists with one of his large hands.
He lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her, an intoxicating attack of lips and tongue that had her moving closer instead of attempting to break free. Her chest rose and fell against his, and she wasn’t sure if it was just her heart beating that fast or if she was feeling his, too.
Then the door to the garage swung open, and his dad stepped inside. “If you’re done farting around, two customers just came in and I could use some help.”
“I’ll wrap up this oil change and be right there,” Heath said, without so much as glancing at his dad.
Rod shook his head and went back into the office.
“Sorry,” Quinn whispered. “I’ll pay for the oil change. I don’t want you to get in trouble.”
“Oh, I can get into trouble just fine by myself. Don’t worry about it.” He quickly finished up, still explaining the steps, although they were more hurried now. About ten minutes later, she knew how to change oil—in theory. Really, she knew more about how Heath stuck out his tongue and furrowed his brow when he concentrated and how he pushed back his sleeves when he worked, which was nice, because then she could watch the line of his forearms flex and twitch with his movements.
He was deliciously dirty, too, black smudged and sexy. She lifted her own blackened fingers, thinking she might have to hit that nail salon for a manicure when she got the chance. While Heath pulled her car out of the garage, she cleaned up in the bathroom and then headed outside to meet him.
“Thank you,” she said as he handed over her keys. The car now looked as flawless as the day Chichi gave it to her. “I’ll be working on the float for the rest of the day, so come by whenever. If you even can. I seriously don’t mind taking care of it.”
Heath glanced at the station. “I’ll be there, but not until around two or three. My dad gets all testy when I don’t put in full days, and I already missed a few for the photo shoot this week.” He sighed. “I really can’t wait until I’m done with it.”
His eyebrows drew together, and then she realized what he meant, whi
ch brought the reality of their situation crashing into her again. She tried to mentally shake it off before it could fully catch hold, not letting herself analyze it too deeply. Luckily he leaned in for a good-bye kiss instead of using their unspoken conflict to walk away and leave her even more unsettled.
Lips moving against hers, he pulled her closer, his hands drifting down to her butt. He gave it a gentle squeeze, and then a giant grin stretched his lips. “I’ll be there to help with the float as soon as I can.”
She nodded and then reluctantly climbed into her car. Once she was behind the wheel, she realized she’d totally failed at keeping her and Heath’s interactions discreet.
Not that many people are out right now anyway, and that kiss…well, who cares if people saw. A traitorous thread of apprehension rose up, and she hated that she couldn’t truly not care if her parents heard about it.
With a sigh, she started her car and headed to the float garage. When she got there, she could hardly believe the change that’d happened over the last week. The rest of the floats were impressive and huge and complete, but her and Heath’s float wasn’t looking half bad. He’d added a few more skeleton butterflies that needed decorating, but she could take care of those while he was working, and then they should be done with the hardest part.
Quinn grabbed the box of decorations and got to work wrapping butterfly wings. Patsy Higgins came over and studied her, a deep crease forming between her eyebrows, and Quinn’s pulse climbed into the danger zone. The woman held her future in her hands and she couldn’t tell if she was happy or upset or…
“What?” she finally asked, the suspense killing her. “Is there something wrong with the butterflies? Am I doing it wrong?”
“I was more wondering about the two giant handprints on your backside.”
Quinn spun, trying to look at her butt. After sticking it out and twisting until her back screamed at her, she finally caught sight of a giant black handprint. She turned the other way and, sure enough, there was a matching one on her other cheek. That explained the canary-eating grin as she’d told Heath good-bye—here she’d thought he was just that ecstatic to be kissing her.
