The Mobile Mistletoe Series (Books 1-4)

by Jennifer Conner

  “What do you have planned for that?”

  “I have some spare rose petals I could wear.”

  “Petals?” He audibly swallowed. “Just the petals?”

  Jess grinned.

  Darrin flipped her around, drew her close and took her in a passionate kiss. When he stepped back, he chuckled. “I guess you really are the petal peddler. Here all this time, I thought it was just the name of your shop. But I hope I’m the only one being pedaled to.” With his free hand, he peeled off her green shop apron before starting on the buttons of her blouse.

  She’d been right, when you least expected it, life changed.

  She would never again doubt the magical-ju-ju of the mobile mistletoe.

  Her imperfect life was now perfect.

  Love Comes for Halloween

  Story 4

  Chapter 1

  Jane Corelli locked her knees tight to the motorcycle’s gas tank and slid into the next corner. During the day, it was warm for late October. Sunset brought a chill to the air in Eastern Oregon and the changing leaves reflected a myriad of orange and golden hues. Pulling over to the side of the road, she decided to give her best friend, Zoe, a call before she drove any farther into the mountains. Jane punched in the auto-dial number and listened to the ring.

  “Where are you?” Zoe asked, her voice sounding worried.

  “Don’t fret your pretty head. I jumped on Richard. I needed to get away. I’ll be back in a few days.” The love of her life was a 1974 Triumph Bonneville she’d affectionately named Richard. Give her bike a little TLC and ‘Richard’ was always there for her.

  “Even if you are with Richard, it’s not like you to just take off and not tell anyone.”

  “I know.” And part of why she did it. She was tired of being the same old her. Goth and predictable. “I told work I’ll be back in a week. I left my neighbor a key to water my one remaining houseplant I haven’t killed, and I stuck a few things in a backpack.”

  “Did you bring the Mobile Mistletoe headband?”

  “No!” she barked into the phone and scratched one of the newly inked tattoos on her forearm. She had, but she wasn’t about to admit it to Zoe. Although, it was in her care now, but she’d had enough of the damn thing. As the last one of her four friends to have ‘the honor’, she was the only one who hadn’t found the man of her dreams while wearing it. She loved Kara, Jess, and Zoe, but if they asked her one more time ‘is there a man in your life,’ her head would blow off.

  She wasn’t keen on the idea from the start. Who could possible think that wearing a dumb headband with a spring of plastic mistletoe was some kind of talisman? They were nuts. When they met for drinks the other night, she wore it at the bar. What a surprise... men hadn’t fallen out of the ceiling and into her lap. It hadn’t been raining men.

  Most people, including Zoe thought Jane’s life was perfect. She could always put on a good face, but the truth was her life stunk. Her job at a Seattle based web firm that created kitschy ad copy for a large car dealership was far from what she hoped to accomplish with her art degree.

  Jane couldn’t take it anymore.

  She needed ‘me’ time. Just her and her beloved motorcycle and then, nothing but the open road.

  She said her goodbyes to Zoe, ended the call, and headed out. Jane patted the purple gas tank she’d airbrushed with light green dragonflies and smiled. This bike and cross-states trip was something she had control over and it was perfect.

  As she crested the curvy mountain road, the bike stuttered and slowed. Jane squeezed the gas, but it sputtered again and then died completely. She coasted off to the gravel edge on to the side of road.

  Her love... Richard, couldn’t... wouldn’t do this to her. Jane swung her leg off the seat and stood. She’d checked the gas and then took a quick survey of the rest but didn’t see anything visible. With a kick to the gravel, Jane swore under her breath and took out her cell phone. No bars. She held it to the sky, twisted it, and then walked a few feet to try it again. Nothing. She pressed the button anyway and listened. What good is technology if it is never there when you needed it?

  She looked up and then down the windy mountain road. Where was the last town she’d passed through? Too far to walk back to, she knew that. Tentatively she tried the ignition once again. Nothing.

  Damn. Damn. Double Damn.

  It may be a long night but there was no way she was going to walk off and leave her bike. Valuable to collectors and worth over 20k, the Triumph would be long gone by the time she got back. Jane checked her pack. She had a bottle of water, a few protein bars, a thin blanket and the black battered leather coat on her feet. She should have packed warmer clothes and not the black holey fishnets and skirt she wore.

  It was great to travel with Zoe, Jane knew she wasn’t a good trip planner. Jane would talk her into going places, and Zoe then would always ask, ‘did you bring this?’ and ‘did you pack that?’ Where was Zoe now to tell her she was going to freeze her cocheechees off because she forgot warmer clothes?

  She pushed the bike farther off the road, dropped the kickstand, and then sat on a stump. Maybe by morning there would be more traffic on the road and she could have someone call for help. Jane pulled the blanket around her shoulders and sighed.

  A few cars sped by but no one stopped and as the night grew dark, she lost track of time. From dusk until now, it had to be around ten. Jane piled leaves together and tugged at the stump to make it a little softer spot for her rear end.

  “Man... what a mess,” she muttered and dozed off listening to her stomach growl.

  She woke with a start when an old green Ford pickup pulled off and into the gravel. The door hinges creaked as the driver stepped out. Great. She could be the president of the dumb girls club. Instead of worrying about her bike, she should have gotten a big stick to whop someone over the head if they tried to attack her.

  She looked around and grabbed a chunk of a branch. Her knuckles were white as the driver stepped in front of the headlights of his truck.

  “Bike problems?” a deep voice asked.

  “Yeah. Something like that.”

  “I’d ask why you didn’t call for help, but I know how bad reception is up here.” The man was well over six-foot with dark hair and a full beard. He turned so his face was illuminated. He couldn’t be here to kill her, in a scruffy kind of way he was kind of cute. So was Ted Bundy, a little voice answered in her head.

  “Well, we’re in kind of a predicament. I’m a nice guy, but you don’t know that. In my good conscious, I can’t leave you out here alone. You’re too close to bear country and recent attacks have been reported.”

  Jane’s hands grew cold as she tugged at the blanket and looked around at the surrounding dark forest. Her head snapped the other direction. “Did you hear that?” she asked.

  “No. I don’t think I heard anything. Let’s put your Triumph in the back of my truck and you can ride in the back.”

  “I... guess I don’t have much of a choice. I don’t put want to be bear bait.”

  He laughed and stuck his hand out. “Gage Cantore. I have a working garage and auto body shop attached to my house.” He whistled through his teeth as she took the kickstand off her bike. “I have to say, this is a beautiful vintage bike.”

  “Thanks.” She pushed hair off her forehead as she rolled the bike to the truck. “It was my father’s.”

  Gage dropped the gate of the truck and pulled out a board to use as a ramp. Between the two of them, they walked the bike up the ramp and into the back of the pickup. He brushed off his hands and slammed the gate closed.

  “You can ride in the back if it feels safer, but in the front, the heater’s on and I have a thermos of coffee with a shot of whiskey. On my honor I promise I’ll deliver you safe and sound to where ever you want to go.”

  Jane found herself returning his smile. It was easy to do. His smile was warm and friendly.

  He bent and picked up the stick she’d discarded. “Her
e, take this for protection.”

  They drove through the windy roads she’d traveled to get there.

  “You said that you have a garage on your house?” she asked.

  “I do a bit of custom work on the side.” He reached under the seat for the thermos and handed it to her.

  Jane unscrewed the lid and poured out the hot liquid into the cup. She wrapped her cold hands around the tin and almost sighed from the rich roasted smell and the warmth on her frozen digits. “You must make good money building custom rides for people.”

  He tapped a finger on the steering wheel. “I make enough to pay the rent, but money isn’t that important. I do what I love and pay it forward to people who need it.”

  “They need bikes and cars.”

  “Sure. If that’s what makes them happy.” They drove a few miles until he announced, “Here we are.” He parked the truck in front of a modest log home surround by trees with an enormous garage attached on one side. “We can unload your bike and see what’s wrong with it in the morning.”

  “I think it might be the points.”

  “Sounds like a fair guess. I can’t offer you a five-star dinner menu, but I have some canned chili, crackers, and cheese from a dairy down the road. After sitting out in the cold, why don’t you come in and I’ll build a fire?”

  “Sure, that sounds great.” Her stomach answered in another grumble. “If it’s warm and there’s food, it will be heaven.”

  He invited her in and she followed him into the living room. The main house was rustic and decorated with Native American artifacts. A roaring fire glowed in the hearth. Jane gravitated towards the warmth, bent, and rubbed her hands quickly together in front of the flames. That was when she noticed her black fingers and nails. Jane excused herself and washed the grease off her hands in the bathroom sink. When she came back, Gage was ladling chili into a bowl and then placed it on the table.

  “What about you,” she asked. “What’s your story? A do-gooder cowboy mountain man who rescues stranded women on the side of the road for fun?”

  “I can’t be a cowboy, because I’ve never been on a horse. You’re the first stranded woman I was able to rescue... this week.” He grinned and poured them both a glass of wine. “In another life I grew up in Los Angles. Do I look like a mountain man?”

  “Yeah. Kind of.”

  “Huh.” He scratched his chin “Guess I should take a look in the mirror more often.” Blue eyes sparkled over the scruff of a shaggy beard. “So what about you. In a rock band?”

  “Can’t play a note. I’m an artist. If I tell people that they roll their eyes. I have an art degree, but I spend my days doing Photoshop ad-copy as an assistant for a used car dealership in the Seattle area.”

  “Did you do the airbrushing work on your bike?”

  “I did.”

  “You’re good. You can call yourself an artist.” He handed her the wine before taking a sip from his own glass.

  “No chili for you?” She sat at the wooden dining table and waited until he sat across from her before picking up the spoon.

  “No thanks. I had dinner in town.”

  “So how does a guy from L.A. end up out here in the middle of nowhere building custom bikes and cars?”

  He shrugged a broad shoulder. “I like it here. It’s a quiet town and I can concentrate on fabrication and not all the BS of the city.”

  “I know what you mean.” Jane leaned back and closed her eyes. She listened to the crackle of the wood in the fire. “I’m sick of the city, the traffic, and the noise. I can see why you like it here.”

  “I’m fortunate to have my house partially paid off. I take a custom job here and there and it pays for the rest.” He poured another half glass of wine. “I can take you back in to town, but you are more than welcome to sleep out in the guest house. Sometimes when friends come over to help on the cars, they crash there. There’s a shower, bed, toilet, sink, and a lock on the door.” He grinned. “I can’t blame you being cautious. A pretty woman like you needs to take precautions with strangers.”

  He thinks I’m pretty? Jane knew she looked like road kill. He had to be kidding.

  “Then in the morning we can take a look at your bike.”

  “I’ve been working on bikes my whole life, but I can’t figure out what can be wrong with Richard.”

  “Richard?”

  “That’s my bike’s name.” She grinned. “It was a joke between me and my dad. I’m Jane...”

  “Richard. Dick and Jane. That’s pretty funny.” He tipped his glass her direction.

  “Most people don’t get it. Kudos to you.” She yawned. “I am tired and it’s late. I’ll take you up on the room and thanks again for saving me from the bears.”

  “My pleasure. It’s nice to have someone to talk to.”

  Jane washed her dish in the sink and then headed out to the guest room.

  After taking a quick shower, she snuggled under the clean sheets and down comforter. Gage was a nice guy and the last thing she needed right now. What did she know about nice guys? He was way too nice. She only dated bad boys. They were easier to date and dump. That was her MO and she was sticking to it.

  Chapter 2

  Gage couldn’t believe he’d stopped to pick up Jane and worse than that, he brought her home. She wasn’t a stray puppy. Jane was a sexy, full-blooded woman. When he saw her on the side of the road, he should have told her he’d call Ken, the deputy sheriff, when he got home, and have him pick her up. Now, here he was, with a beautiful girl and a great vintage bike holed up in his shop. He told himself he wasn’t ‘good relationship material,’ but what would it be like to spend days and then possibly nights with a smart, sassy woman instead of the stay cats from the barn?

  The next morning Gage pried his eyes open. With Jane mixed through his dreams, he hadn’t slept well. He flipped on the overhead lights to the shop and made coffee. With a few pots of caffeine running through his veins, he’d survive. He heard the guest room door unlock and tried to look busy as he straightened the tools on his bench for the twentieth time.

  He tried not to seem antsy. Gage dropped the wrench back in the metal box and fiddled instead with a button in his well-worn flannel shirt. She came into view with a welcoming smile on her face. Her straight black hair swung around her high cheekbones.

  “Hey, what are you working on?” she asked as she sauntered over to peek at his handiwork.

  “It’s a custom car for a guy outside of Portland.”

  “Mind if I help myself to some coffee?”

  He tipped his head. “Help yourself. The car’s getting close to delivery.”

  She stirred in two packs of sugar to the cup and then sat on the steel bench to the side of him. “I bet you’ll make a pretty penny on this.”

  Gage shook his head. “Nope. Not a one.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “That’s crazy. Why not?”

  He re-poured his own cup, sat on the car’s fender, and crossed his long legs at the ankle. “I do a few for profit and then the other rides for people who need them. I have a website set up. People email me stories about their cars or bikes and the reasons behind wanting them. The car is for a guy in remission for cancer.”

  “That’s terrible. I can see why you chose him.”

  Gage wiped the wrench off on his pants leg. “That’s the funny thing. The car isn’t for him, it’s for his brother. When Hal got sick, his brother took him in, but his house was too small, so he had to move him out to the garage. In that garage was his brother’s prized 1970 Camaro. His brother had to sell the Camaro to make a mini apartment while Hal had chemo. Hal emailed my site and said if he could, he’d re-buy it to pay back his brother, but he’s still trying to get back on his own feet. He doesn’t have the money, but he knew how much it would mean to his brother.”

  “You’re giving it to him?”

  “Yeah.” He looked at her. “Something wrong with that?”

  “No, but no one does nice things anymore.”r />
  “Yeah they do. People do nice things every day, but we only hear about the bad things on the news and papers. Shootings. Stabbings. But people are usually good if they have the chance.”

  “That’s... really nice.” She paused for a long moment as if processing what he’d told her. More likely, she didn’t believe him. “I still think it’s the points.”

  “I took it off this morning and you’re right. I called for parts, but it looks like it’s going to take a few days until it comes in.”

  “So much for getting away.”

  Gage chuckled. “You are away. Believe me, you’re about as far away as you can get. You’re just not on the road. It’s fine with me if you would like to stay here. I mean...” He felt his ears flush. “The part may not be in for a few days.”

  Jane hooked thumbs in the pockets of her jeans and rocked forward on her heels. “Let’s wait till the end of the day and see if we still like each other.”

  “Sure.”

  She stood and moved to the workbench. “Man, you have everything in this shop. Even an airbrush gun.”

  “I’m cheap when it comes to that. I thought that instead of hiring out every time I needed designs I could buy my own equipment and do it myself.”

  “How’s that working out for you?”

  He grinned. “Notice the dust on it? Not so good. I found one thing you need for doing airbrushing is a speck of artistic talent. I have none.”

  Jane laughed. It made her dark eyes crinkle at the corners. Painted in brilliant red against white teeth, her dark red lipstick brought his attention to her mouth. Gage swallowed. When she reached over to pick up her coffee mug, he noticed a long trailing vine of roses etched into her skin that disappeared under her tank top.

  “It looks like you’ve got control on the engine and body stuff on this car, but the hood looks pretty plain. Are you waiting for the airbrush fairies to come along?”

  He straightened and looked her up and down. “Got any in mind?”

  “I worked on airbrush designs with my dad before he died, and I’m pretty good at it. If you like my bike, that’s what I can do.”