Twice Upon a Roadtrip

by Shannon Stacey

  An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication

  www.ellorascave.com

  Twice Upon a Roadtrip

  ISBN # 1-4199-0382-9

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

  Twice Upon a Roadtrip Copyright© 2005 Shannon Stacey

  Edited by Briana St. James

  Cover art by Lissa Waitley

  Electronic book Publication: October 2005

  This book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.

  Warning:

  The following material contains graphic sexual content meant for mature readers. Twice Upon a Roadtriphas been rated S-ensuous by a minimum of three independent reviewers.

  Ellora’s Cave Publishing offers three levels of Romantica™ reading entertainment: S (S-ensuous), E (E-rotic), and X (X-treme).

  S-ensuous love scenes are explicit and leave nothing to the imagination.

  E-rotic love scenes are explicit, leave nothing to the imagination, and are high in volume per the overall word count. In addition, some E-rated titles might contain fantasy material that some readers find objectionable, such as bondage, submission, same sex encounters, forced seductions, and so forth. E-rated titles are the most graphic titles we carry; it is common, for instance, for an author to use words such as “fucking”, “cock”, “pussy”, and such within their work of literature.

  X-treme titles differ from E-rated titles only in plot premise and storyline execution. Unlike E-rated titles, stories designated with the letter X tend to contain controversial subject matter not for the faint of heart.

  Twice Upon a Roadtrip

  Shannon Stacey

  Dedication

  To my sons for being totally amazing, despite having a mother who talks to invisible people.

  To FY and BB, because I would be so lost without you all.

  To Briana St. James, editor extraordinaire. Thank you.

  And to Stuart, who vowed to love me for better and for worse and meant it, who ignores the dust bunnies, and who never once said I couldn’t do it. Without you, this book simply wouldn’t exist. I love you, now and forever.

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

  Reebok: Reebok International Limited

  Keds: SR Holdings Inc.

  Garfield: Paws, Incorporated

  National Geographic: National Geographic Society

  NASCAR: National Association for Stock Car Auto Racing, Inc.

  Disney World: Disney Enterprises, Inc.

  Cadillac: General Motors Corporation

  Ford Taurus: Ford Motor Company

  Viagra: Pfizer Inc.

  Harley: H-D Michigan, Inc.

  ACME: Jewel Companies, Inc

  Barney: Lyons Partnership, LP Rhenclid, Inc.

  El Camino: General Motors Corporation

  Cinderella: Disney Enterprises, Inc.

  The Weather Channel: Weather Channel, Inc.

  Boy Scouts: Boy Scouts of America

  Better Homes and Gardens Channel: Meredith Corporation

  Hershey’s Special Dark: Hershey Chocolate & Confectionery Corporation

  Barbie: Mattel, Inc.

  The Twilight Zone: CBS Broadcasting Inc.

  MG: MG Rover Group Ltd.

  Sara Lee: Saramar, L.L.C.

  Sheetrock: United States Gypsum Company

  Boston Red Sox: Boston Red Sox Baseball Club Limited Partnership The Jean R. Yawkey Trust its General Partner

  Aerosmith: Rag Doll Merchandising, Inc.

  Chapter One

  For a Thursday it had been one hell of a bad day.

  Jillian Delaney navigated across the grocery store parking lot, cursing her rotten luck. It wasn’t a Monday or a Friday the thirteenth. She hadn’t broken a mirror, walked under a ladder or tripped over a black cat. There was simply no explanation for the words that had come from her boss’s mouth.

  She stopped the cart and let it rest against her hip while she opened the back door. The cart slipped and she cringed as the shopping cart gouged a trail across the cherry red fender of her new car.

  “Damn,” she hissed, examining the wound. Could this day get any worse?

  The Fates only laughed at the foolish question and split the bottom of the plastic bag in her hand. Groceries showered the pavement. Two cans of vegetables hit the asphalt with metallic thuds before splitting up and rolling in opposite directions. A can of soup ricocheted off a can of tomato paste. And the jumbo thirty-nine-ounce can of coffee landed on her foot.

  Jill let loose a short, frustrated scream and threw the torn bag into the car. Tears burned her eyes, but she concentrated on her anger. She was not going to cry in the grocery store parking lot. She would cry when she got home, then comfort herself with the one-pound bag of chocolate she’d just bought. One by one she picked up her canned goods and pelted them into the backseat. Half bounced back at her—par for the course today.

  Some idiot had stolen her promotion. For four years she coveted that job, waiting for Mrs. Bright to retire. Now some out-of-towner with a fancy résumé—she wasn’t even from New Hampshire—had swooped in and pulled the rug out from under her. In two weeks, somebody else would be the head librarian at the Carlson Memorial Library.

  Jill swore and kicked the fender, leaving a nice little dent right below the scratch. In for a penny… She kicked it again.

  Pain exploded in her toes. An anguished growl tore from her throat and she sat on the edge of the backseat. With one hand, she rubbed her bruised toes while the other hand massaged her temple. Maybe a good, public cry was inevitable, because her day was getting worse by the second.

  A pair of men’s Reeboks stopped in front of her. “Hi there. Is there a problem?”

  Geez, do I look that bad? Or maybe the screeches of outrage had given her away. She stood with a weary sigh.

  The man occupying the Reeboks smiled at her and she completely forgot what she was going to say.

  His tall frame was a tad bit thinner than she usually liked, but he still managed to fill out his worn jeans and Red Sox T-shirt pretty well. Her gaze skimmed over his clean-shaven jaw, his sensually curved lips. He had thick, mahogany-hued hair she would bet curled like mad if he didn’t keep it trimmed short. And those dark chocolate eyes…

  Jill pressed her lips together to keep from grinning like an idiot. Spring was most definitely in the air, and it had been a while since spring had sprung. “I’m fine—really. Thanks for asking.”

  “I, uh…I appreciate the groceries but I bought my own,” he said, waving toward his own cart.

  “What?” Wasn’t it just her luck to bump into a cute guy whose elevator didn’t go all the way to the top? If only she was more superstitious, she’d have a clue what she’d done to bring this on herself. Had she spilled salt at lunch and not tossed it over her shoulder? “Look, pal, I’m not in the mood for any games right now, so if you move your cart I’ll just leave, okay?”

  “That’s my car.”

  “What? I don’t…” She looked over her shoulder and the words died on her lips. Her travel mug was red, not blue. And her center console hadn’t been that organized since it left the dealership.

  “This isn’t my car!”

  The man smiled at her—cautiously, as if she might bite. “Like I said, it’s my car. But there’s a lot of them ou
t there, so it’s an easy enough mistake.”

  The tears welled with renewed vigor and she flicked her wrist at the freshly abused fender. “I beat up your car.”

  He bent low to examine the damage and, despite her distress, she couldn’t resist a quick peek at his ass. Nice. Very nice indeed. Too bad it had taken her less than a minute to make a fool of herself in front of the best-looking fish she’d seen in the sea lately.

  “It’s fixable. I doubt it will cost more than what my insurance deductible is, so there’s no sense in going through them.”

  “Please don’t call the police. My brother-in-law is the chief and I’ll never live this down.”

  “No need for cops. We can exchange info and I’ll let you know what the estimate comes to. You will pay for it, right?”

  “Of course,” Jill muttered while she dug in her purse for a pen.

  She didn’t look forward to tightening her belt another notch. The damage she’d done to her credit cards in anticipation of her promotion was substantial. “My name is Jill Delaney. Here’s my address and phone number.”

  He took the slip of paper she handed him. “Jill Delaney?”

  “Yeah, it’s all right there.” She leaned into the car to gather up her loose canned goods.

  “You’re the children’s librarian?”

  How does he know that? She jerked back and smacked her head on the roof of the car. “Ouch!”

  Real concern furrowed his brow. “Are you okay?”

  She rubbed at the spot, wincing against the pain. “No, I am not okay. I’m having the worst day of my life!”

  “I’m sorry. I—”

  “No—the second worst day,” she continued after a shaky breath. There were those pesky tears again, and she blinked them back. “The worst day will come in two weeks when I have to meet the bitch who stole my promotion.”

  She stopped rubbing her head and looked at him as a horrible suspicion wormed its way into her mind. “How did you know I’m the children’s librarian?”

  “I’m Ethan Cooper,” he replied, extending his hand. “The bitch is my mother.”

  She knew her jaw dropped, but she couldn’t help it. Of all the people she had to run into right now, why did it have to be him? Humiliation surged from a trickle to a raging flood. She felt reason slipping away, as it always did when she embarrassed herself.

  Angry words bottlenecked in her throat, fighting to be first. “I don’t… Son of a bitch!”

  He jerked back, giving her a startled glance. “You’re just a ray of sunshine, aren’t you? They let you work with children?”

  She blew upwards at the blonde wisps forever escaping her ponytail. “I can’t believe this is happening to me! Do you know what your mother did to me?”

  “My mother didn’t do anything to you.” He looked confused and maybe a little angry. “There was an opening for a job she’s qualified for and she applied. The trustees hired her. It has nothing to do with you, sunshine.”

  The bastard made the endearment sound like an insult. It was an insult. Normally, it would make her feel all warm and fuzzy inside. But right now she just wanted to stomp on his toes.

  “I know it had nothing to do with me. But that was my promotion. I worked so hard—”

  Jill swallowed the rest of the sentence and started throwing her groceries back into her cart, muttering words she didn’t care if he heard. “Nothing to do with me… I waited four years… She’s not even from here.”

  Ethan leaned over her shoulder to peer into the car. “Do you need a hand with those?”

  “Please just leave me alone. If you’re nice to me I’ll start bawling right here in the parking lot.”

  He held up his hands. “Look, sunshine, I—”

  She stood and put her hands on her hips, looking him in the eye. “Stop calling me sunshine.”

  His narrowed gaze didn’t flinch away from hers. “It’s better than some of the other names that have crossed my mind in the last two minutes.”

  “You don’t even know me,” she protested.

  He crossed his arms, dragging the hems of his T-shirt sleeves up over his biceps. Very nice biceps, too. She tried not to look, but it wasn’t easy. And those shoulders…

  He didn’t speak again until she made herself look up. “You don’t know my mother, but you called her a bitch.”

  “She stole my job.”

  He threw up his hands. “I don’t have time to talk in circles with a crazy woman—”

  “Crazy?” Just who did he think he was?

  “Fine—she stole your job. We’re horrible people and there’s a massive conspiracy out to get you. Happy? Now get your shit out of my car so I can go home.”

  Fury tied Jill’s tongue so all she could do was turn around and start piling cans in her arms. She was going to start crying any second, and she didn’t want to add that to her list of already pathetic behavior. For every two she picked up one fell and she finally just dumped what she had into the cart and threw the rest in, one at a time. Of course a can had rolled under the car, so she got down on her hands and knees to fish it out.

  Her fingers closed over it just as Ethan Cooper mumbled something above her. She struggled to her feet. “What did you say?”

  “I said I’ll be sure to tell my mother she can look forward to working with you.”

  The sarcasm was as thick as cheap mascara and she glared at him. “You know what? Fine—I quit.”

  She swung her cart around and walked away, her chin thrust in the air. Oh God, where did I park my car?

  “Wait,” he said, and her heart lurched in her chest when he grabbed her elbow. “You can’t quit.”

  “Why not?” she demanded, wondering even as the words left her mouth if she’d gone insane. He was right. She couldn’t quit her job. She had bills to pay—a lot of bills.

  His hand was warm through her thin sweater, making her flesh tingle. She shook it off. She didn’t take chemistry in school, but she knew it when she felt it. And Ethan Cooper was the last man on Earth she wanted to share any kind of sexual chemistry with.

  And oh boy, did she ever feel it. Why was this happening to her? Why couldn’t she have met this guy at a bar, or at the damn laundromat? Instead of sharing a drink, they were having a pissing match in the middle of the grocery store parking lot.

  And she’d just quit her job. “Your mother is very capable from what I understand.”

  “She is, but she hasn’t even started yet. What is she supposed to do without you?”

  Jill refused to back down from his anger. “Melinda—the page—knows my job almost as well as I do. She can be the children’s librarian.”

  She thought of the upcoming summer reading program and squelched a pang of regret. She’d promised the kids a sundae party for any who met their reading goals.

  Well, Miranda could shelve books like a whirling alphabetizing dervish and knew the Dewey decimal system by heart. Surely she could scoop ice cream.

  Still, there was that file full of grant forms to fill out and fundraising letters to send. And performers to book. And she so loved to watch the kids’ faces during the puppet show.

  “And what are you going to do?” he asked, dragging her thoughts away from the to-do list that wouldn’t be hers to do anymore.

  Good question. “I’m going to travel. I want to see the world.”

  She was amazed she even managed to say it with a straight face. Wanting to see the world was one thing. Paying to see it was an entirely different story. Maybe a little vacation wouldn’t hurt, though.

  Ethan chewed the inside of his lip, and Jill was fascinated by the way the muscles in his jaw worked. It really was too bad he was the promotion thief’s son. Those Reeboks would look damn fine under her bed.

  “So that’s it?” he demanded. “You don’t get your way, so you quit?”

  He made her sound like a petulant child. Maybe she was acting like one—just a little—but she was having a really shitty day. “That’s right. I’m
quitting my job and I’m going to see the world. And I’m going to find the man of my dreams so he can sweep me off my feet.”

  The corners of his lips twitched. “Good luck.”

  Okay, that hurt. “I’m leaving now. Have a nice life.”

  “Why didn’t you quit three weeks ago?”

  Jill took a deep breath and blew the hair out of her eyes again. If he disliked her so much, why wouldn’t he just go away? She couldn’t hold the impending emotional meltdown at bay much longer. “Why would I have quit three weeks ago?”

  He hesitated and the answer hit Jill like a wrecking ball. “They hired her three weeks ago?”

  He nodded. “We’ve already rented her condo and moved her in and everything. She wouldn’t have come up from Connecticut without a concrete offer.”

  Disappointment and rage battled for Jill’s emotions. “Why did they wait until today to tell me?”

  “Maybe the trustees thought you might react like this,” he suggested.

  Jill’s cheeks grew hot and she clenched her jaw to keep any more juvenile comments at bay. Then she just turned and walked away.

  Those three weeks were the icing on the cake. After the years she’d been there, they hadn’t had the respect to tell her straight out. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—work at the library anymore.

  “Hey, Jill?”

  “What?” she shouted, spinning back to him.

  “Your groceries?”

  Humiliation kept her from looking him in the face when she walked back for her cart. She pushed it up the row, then down the next until she found her own car—the messy one with the red travel mug.

  Loading the loose groceries into the backseat, she came to a decision. She was going straight from here to the bank. And then she would take the best trip her savings account would buy.

  * * * * *

  “This oughta be good.”

  Jill rolled her eyes at her father’s bemused smile. It was the same smile he gave the clowns on stilts at the Rotary Club circus, or his son-in-law when he had a power tool in his hand. Her life was a disaster waiting to happen and he was going to laugh his butt off when it did.