Jilted Groom (Romance Novel)

by Mia Carson

  Kris gripped the wrench tighter as she stared Grams down, the woman who had raised her and her brother when their parents couldn’t be bothered to be actual parents. She was tough and never a pushover, but damn, when she gave Kris those puppy-dog eyes, game over. She puffed out her cheeks and tossed the wrench onto the table.

  “Fine,” she conceded and held her hands up to ward off her Grams. “Fine, I’ll have lunch with him.”

  “Good, he’s already at the diner.” Kris’s mouth dropped open, and she growled curses under her breath. “What was that, dear?” Grams said lightly as she picked up her tote and slung it over her shoulder.

  “Nothing, not a damn word. Let me close up the shop, and I’ll be there.”

  “Thank you, Kris, really,” she said and with a satisfied glint in her eyes, left Kris’s shop.

  Kris rolled her eyes, cleaned her hands, and locked up her tools and keys to the cars in her garage. On a Sunday, she was the only one there, but she had two other guys who worked with her. Charlie, a good friend and ex-boyfriend, and Frank, when he wasn’t too drunk to work, but that was the best she could get when living in a Podunk town like this. Grabbing her work cell and keys to the tow truck, she rolled down the garage doors, padlocked them, and walked across the hot pavement to the diner. Its silver sign glistened in the afternoon sun, and Kris held her hand over her eyes as she ran across the two-lane road, ignoring the horn blast.

  “Watch it, Kris,” a man yelled out his window.

  “Sorry, Mr. Fitz,” she called back. “That part came in for your tractor, by the way.”

  “When can you fix it?” Mr. Fitz asked, coming to a dead stop in the street, but he blocked no one.

  Kris mentally ticked off the other cars in her shop and shrugged. “Maybe by Thursday?”

  “I’ll tell the wife to make up some bourbon balls for ya,” he said and waved his ratty hat at her before he drove off.

  Kris waved and walked into the diner. The wash of cold air sent a shiver down her back, and she wiped the sweat from her face with her hand, searching for Dennis. His hunched frame took up one whole side of the small booth table towards the back, and she sucked in a deep breath, her hands clenching at her sides before she forced them to relax. He was her brother, her blood. She couldn't ignore him forever.

  “Hey,” he said when he spotted her coming towards the table. He stood and opened his arms as if to hug her, but stopped halfway. “I… uh, I was hoping you’d make it.”

  “I needed a break,” she said and sat down quickly, hoping he’d do the same. “Order yet?”

  “Nah, just a pop,” he answered, motioning to the drink. “I was trying to wait for you.”

  She nodded as she picked up the sticky menu and glanced over it, not that she needed to look. She’d grown up in this damn place and the menu hadn’t changed in nearly twenty-six years, but she couldn’t bring herself to stare at her brother.

  “Kris,” he said and tugged down the menu so she had to look at him. “Grams put you up to this, didn’t she?”

  Giving in, she set the menu down. “No, of course not,” she lied, but Dennis’s lips twitched in a grin, and she leaned back against the booth. “Maybe… Look, it’s not like I don’t want to have lunch with you. I do, I just… I’m not sure…”

  Dennis reached over and held her hand gently in his big one. She stared at the black tattoos covering his knuckles, hand, and connected to the sleeve of his right arm. The twisted brambles and dying roses gave his arm a bulging effect, not that it needed any help. Her brother had always been a big guy, six and a half feet tall and easily three hundred pounds of muscle. The full beard didn’t help, or the scars on his neck and face from his days on the streets. Kris didn’t see what other people saw, though. She saw her big brother, and as she stared into his hazel eyes that matched her own, she squeezed his hand back with that weird sibling understanding they had.

  “I know I haven’t made things easy,” he told her, his head hanging, “but I really am finished with all of that this time. I swear it. I know you might not trust me, that it might take a long-ass time, but I’ll prove to you that you can trust me again.”

  “I do trust you.” She hesitated. “But I don’t want to lose my brother again.”

  “You won’t, I swear it.”

  She smiled and made a mental note to thank Grams later for riding her ass so hard. Honestly, she was lucky she hadn’t followed Dennis and taken up drugs or worse. He let go of her hand, and she picked up the menu again, ready to enjoy a lunch with her big brother when her work phone dinged in her pocket. She didn’t move to answer it at first, but Dennis set his menu down and eyed her.

  “You can’t afford not to take the call,” he said. “It’s fine.”

  She frowned as she pulled out her cell to answer the call. The man’s voice broke up on the other end. “What? I’m sorry, where did you say you are?”

  “Route 25 or something? No, turned… that… farther south…”

  Kris stuck her other finger in her ear to try and hear better. “What’s close by? Can you see anything?”

  “…sign for…”

  “Say that again?” she grumbled. Damn tourists. What the hell is he doing all the way out here?

  “Green Valley?” he muttered. “Yeah, Green Valley.”

  Kris turned around and glared out the diner window. “Did you mean to come to the middle of nowhere? Sir?” She waited, but he didn’t reply. “Right, well if you can hear me, there’s a tow truck on the way, twenty minutes.”

  “Who was that?” Dennis asked after she hung up.

  “Some idiot lost on the back roads again. Rain check on lunch?”

  “Want me to get you something for later?”

  Kris was going to say no, but her stomach growled and he chuckled at the sound. “Guess I haven’t eaten all day. Just get me a burger and fries.”

  “Extra bacon?”

  “Who are you talking to?” she teased. On impulse, she rushed around to the other side of the table and hugged her brother close. No words passed between them, but there didn’t have to be. She hurried out of the diner and hopped into the tow truck she was paying off slowly, just like the garage she was only able to get because of Grams.

  Once on the road, she attached her cell to the dash and tried to call the guy back, but he didn’t answer. She tapped her fingers anxiously on the steering wheel. If the guy could see the Green Valley sign that resided outside town, he couldn’t be that far away. She had no idea what made him come this far off the interstate, but she figured she’d find out if she ever tracked the guy down. The AC clunked and whined in the truck, and Kris smacked her hand on the dash.

  “Come on, baby,” she grunted. “Not today. It’s pushing a hundred.”

  The truck didn’t care, and after the air let out one last icy breath, it shut off completely. Cursing and hoping this guy could go without AC for an hour, she rolled down the windows and drove a little faster. There were only four cops in Green Valley, and they never patrolled the roads far out of town. The truck barreled down a hill and around a turn when she spotted smoke drifting up from the side of the road, ten miles out of town. She turned on her yellow flashing lights and beeped the horn to get the man’s attention. A head popped around the propped-up hood, and he waved a hand over his head.

  “Well now, you’re not from around here,” she whispered as she threw the truck in park. The man in question was dressed too nicely to be stuck on the side of the road. His shirtsleeves were rolled up, and as she climbed out of the tow truck, her attention shifted from the man with his mussed-up hair to the car. “Holy shit. You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “Are you the woman I spoke to on the phone?” he asked, walking towards the rear of his car.

  “Yeah, I am. Kristen Rivers,” she said and held out her hand. He glanced at it before shaking it firmly. “Looks like you got yourself some car troubles.”

  “Looks that way,” he said slowly, eyeing her up and down.


  She was used to it and ignored his look, too fascinated by his car. “Well then, let’s take a look and see what you broke on the old girl.”

  Chapter 3

  Edmund hoped he’d relayed the message to the woman he spoke to on the phone before his signal cut out completely. The heat of the day settled on his shoulders as he rolled up his sleeves and frowned down at his tux pants. He’d planned on stopping at a town somewhere outside of Kentucky to get new clothes, but his car had other ideas. He managed to look up a shop close by the interstate, but as soon as he exited, he was turned around on back roads and his old baby gave out completely.

  When the tow truck pulled up, he was ready to thank the guy for finding him, but the tall, curvy form of a woman in a black mechanic jumpsuit was not what he expected. Her brown hair, with hints of red picked up by the sunlight, was pulled back in a ponytail, and she yanked an oil-covered rag from her pocket as she walked past him to the front of the car.

  “You did a number on her, didn’t you?” she mused, waving away the smoke with the rag.

  Tongue-tied, he nodded as he watched her lithe body lean over the engine. Sweat glistened on her neck, and she cursed as she reached her hand in.

  “Careful,” he said and reached out to pull her back, but she shot him a look.

  “I think I know what I’m doing,” she said with a wink. “This is not my first car.”

  “And how many have you worked on before?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

  She straightened, matching his posture with a grin. “Pushing two hundred,” she said proudly. “I also own my own garage and my own tow truck. How many cars have you fixed up before?”

  Edmund coughed to cover his surprise. “None, I’m afraid.”

  “Exactly, so if you don’t mind, let me do my work?”

  “You really are the mechanic?” he asked before he could stop himself.

  She leaned back over the engine, and Edmund’s eyes drifted down to her ass staring him in the face. The jumpsuit she wore did nothing to hide every delicious curve of her body, and Edmund was reminded very quickly of the fact that he was a red-blooded male and currently single.

  “What is it with men thinking a woman can’t work on cars?” she grumbled.

  “I wasn’t implying that. You just don’t strike me as the mechanic type,” he covered quickly.

  She sighed, puffing her cheeks out as she rested her forearms on the edge of the car. “You’re driving a 1966 convertible Mustang, Windsor V8, four-barrel engine with mostly original parts,” she listed with a twitch to her lips. “A car I’ve never seen in person but I can say I’m very happy you broke down close to my town.”

  “Damn,” he laughed, holding up his hands in defeat. “Alright, you know cars.”

  “Yes, I do,” she said, amused, and Edmund smiled with her. “You’re leaking oil, to begin with, and it looks like your battery’s fried. Let me test it real quick. If it’s the battery, I have a spare that should work on the truck.”

  “And if it’s not the battery?” he asked.

  She shoved the rag back in her pocket. “Then you get to enjoy my company a bit longer.”

  Edmund almost said he would enjoy that but stopped the words at the last second. His plan was to keep driving south, not to stop in some tiny little town he didn’t even see on the map. Dust billowed around him from the gravel shoulder as a hot breeze blew across his face. He really needed a change of clothes and a shower after sweating in this heat. Kristen walked back from the tow truck, and he stepped aside to let her test the battery.

  “Well, bad news, I’m afraid,” she said after a moment and slammed his hood shut. “I have to tow you into town.”

  “Can you fix it?” he asked, following her to her truck.

  “Yeah, but I won’t know the extent of the damage ‘til I get her in the shop,” she explained and reached into the passenger seat for a clipboard. “I might have to order parts, and for us, that means time.”

  Edmund kicked at a rock on the shoulder. Just his luck. He was stood up at his own wedding, then his beautiful baby broke down on the road before he could even get out of Kentucky. “Great. Perfect,” he muttered.

  Kristen paused in her writing. “Can I get your name?”

  “Edmund Eastwood,” he said with an air of pride he’d used since he was a child.

  She smirked as she jotted it down. “Listen, Ed,” she began.

  “Edmund,” he corrected.

  Her smile widened and a glimmer of mischief lit up her eyes. “Edmund. Green Valley ain’t big, but we have a nice inn you can stay at and good food and whiskey. It might not be a dream vacation, but you’ll survive for a few days.”

  He ran a hand through his messed-up hair and grimaced. “You’re right. I guess I should be thanking you.”

  “I’d wait until you get the bill,” she smirked. “I can tell you now, for this car, the repairs won’t be cheap. The parts are going to be hard to find.”

  “Money isn’t an issue,” he told her.

  Her smile flickered before she turned away from him. “Good to know. Well, I’ll get her hooked up, and we can head back to town. Oh, and a word of warning, the AC isn’t working in my truck.” She tossed the clipboard inside, and Edmund opted to wait outside the hot truck until she was ready to go. He watched her maneuver the truck perfectly and hook up his Mustang. She waved for him to hop in as soon as she was finished, and they pulled out onto the road.

  Edmund watched the forest go by as she sped down the road, taking the turns quite fast. He glanced back at his car, but it was still attached and bouncing happily along.

  “Don’t worry,” she said loudly over the wind. “I’ll get us there in one piece.”

  “You grew up on these roads?” he asked, trying not to sound as worried as he felt.

  “I did,” she said shortly.

  Edmund debated being polite and making conversation, but Kristen didn’t appear to be in the mood for a conversation. He busied himself by taking in the details of the cab of the old truck. A necklace hung around the rear-view mirror—a pendant of a horse—along with several old car keys. There was no trash, but the cushions were torn in places. A few spare rags lay in the backseat, along with a change of clothes, and even with the windows open, the scent of oil and honeysuckle lingered, drifting past his nose every now and then.

  “Well, here we are,” she said as they drove past a town sign. “Welcome to Green Valley, Kentucky.”

  “Looks… quaint,” he said, trying to be polite. “Is this the whole town?”

  “Three cross streets and no stop lights,” she said. “This is about it.”

  She drove towards the edge of a two-lane road and pulled off in front of a large garage with three doors, looking as if it, too, had seen better days. She parked and hopped out of the cab, taking the clipboard with her.

  “The inn is just across the road.” She pointed, and Edmund turned, ready to cringe at the sight of what he might see. He sighed with relief at the perfectly normal, three-story building bearing a stone front and trimmed hedges on the curb. “If you want to reserve yourself a room, I’ll swing by in an hour or two with the damages.”

  He nodded. “Right then, I guess I’ll let you get to it.”

  She patted him on the shoulder with the clipboard. “Might not be as bad as it looks.”

  “The way my luck’s been, nothing would surprise me,” he muttered but thanked her and walked away before she could ask questions he wasn’t really in the mood to answer. He needed to get to a working phone and check in with Tommy to let him know about the unexpected chink in his plan.

  As he crossed the street, eyes followed him from storefronts and cars. He smiled politely at them all, wondering why they stared. Small town, he mused, but did they never have visitors? He quickened his pace and was thankful for the cool rush of air as he stepped inside the inn and rang the small bell on the desk.

  “Well, now, who do we have here?” an elderly woman asked as she s
tepped out of a back office. “Looking for a room, are you?”

  “Yes. I do seem to be in need of one,” he said with a polite smile. “My car broke down. I’m going to be here for at least a day, possibly more. Do you have anything available?”

  “I have most of the inn available,” she said bluntly and flipped open a ledger. “Would you like an upper floor? Front-facing or rear?”

  “Main floor is fine, and front-facing.” He reached for his wallet, fascinated as the woman wrote down his information in the ledger, not a computer in sight.

  She reached under the desk and handed him a large skeleton key with a numbered tag hanging from it. “Room four, then, should do you well. There’s a mini fridge and microwave in there, and the diner is two doors down. They don’t deliver.”

  Edmund nodded as he handed over his card. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “Good,” she said after swiping his card through a foursquare attached to her phone. “Stay as long as you need. Won’t charge your card until you check out.”

  Edmund took his card from her gnarled hands. “Any place close to buy fresh clothes?”

  “Head down to your right,” she instructed. “You might not find exactly what you’re looking for, but they sell jeans and t-shirts.” She eyed his dirty white dress shirt and tux pants, all the way down to his scuffed black shoes. “And boots, they sell those, too.”

  “Thanks,” he said and turned quickly to find his room.

  When the door swung open, he clicked on the light. A queen-sized bed was made up with white and red linens in a room that boasted a desk, mini-fridge, microwave, and a full bath. It wasn’t much, but it was enough, and he went straight for the phone on the desk. He called Tommy, and when he didn’t answer, Edmund left him a quick voicemail with the number to the room. He had a while before he’d hear from Kristen, so he left the inn, walking past the old woman standing at the front desk and outside. He reached the shop advertising jeans and boots, and ignoring the curious looks he received, quickly found his sizes in jeans, t-shirts, and boots. Edmund checked out as quickly as possible and rushed back to his room. For not wanting to be the center of attention or gossip, he sure as hell picked the wrong town to wind up in.