With You: A Queensbay Small Town Romance (The Queensbay Series Book 5)

by Drea Stein

  She opened her eyes just a little and smiled. “Yeah, and to think that Chase is paying me to do this.”

  “Me too,” Colby said. She looked at him, and he held up him his paper coffee cup in a toast.

  She raised hers in an answering salute.

  “So, what are you really going to be doing here today?” she asked after a moment or two of comfortable silence.

  “The cars have to be moved around, and I don’t let just anyone drive them. And when all those models start hanging on them, then I’ll hover so they’ll feel the need to be extra careful with my babies, so they’ll treat them as delicately as they would a pair of designer jeans.”

  “Sounds like you know something about what models do and don’t do?”

  “I’ve worked with them before,” he answered easily enough.

  “So, when you lend a car to a movie, do you hang out on that set, too?” she asked. She wondered if he hung out with actresses as well. Models and actresses. She tried not to let it intimidate her. He had said that he wanted to be here with her.

  “I’ve done that, too. Now, not so much. At first it was fun, the glamour of it, but after bit I start to itch to get back to my real job.”

  “And that would be?”

  “Finding the cars, fixing them, selling them.”

  “Anything you can’t fix?”

  He shrugged. “Sometimes. A scratch, a scrape, I can handle. Just about anything short of sending it over the bluff and into the harbor, those types of things are fixable. Even then, it wouldn’t be the first waterlogged car I’ve rebuilt. Of course it’s not cheap, and I’d hate for Chase to owe me even more money—so, yes, the hovering usually works.”

  “What was the worst car you had to fix?” she asked, curious to know more about him and his work.

  “Anything with fire. Or a crash, sometimes you just can’t untwist metal. You have to replace it.”

  “Does that make a difference?”

  “Depends. Some collectors want their car to be restored—perfectly—down to the last detail. So, you have to find the same motor from a junk dealer, or doors, or seats from another car that’s beyond repair. Others just want it to look good. Then you can rebuild it with more modern materials.”

  “Do you do all the work yourself?” She swiveled in the chair so she could watch him. The sun caught his hair, picking up the light highlights among the darker brown strands. His face was tan, and there were some lines around his eyes. Laugh lines, her mom always called them—on men. It made Colby look genuine when he smiled, she thought, and then shut that line of thinking down. She barely knew him and had no idea if he was genuine or not. Still, he was easy to look at.

  “Do you keep the company’s website running all by yourself?” he asked with a smile.

  She smiled back and shook her head. “Not anymore, but I like to fix things. Give me the blue screen of death on a computer, and I won’t stop until I’ve figured it out.”

  “Sounds like we both like a challenge,” he said, and his eyebrow quirked up.

  She had to look away then because she liked his self-assured smile too much, the way it lingered, the way it made her want to say more.

  “Colby,” the voice was high-pitched, a squeal almost, and something flung itself at Colby, landing in his lap. Tory jumped, and her coffee spilled, but the thing—a girl, really—was already curled up in Colby’s lap. She had on a t-shirt and not much else.

  “Oh. My. God … I can’t believe it’s really you, Colby Reynolds.”

  It was one of the models, Tory realized. A tall, lanky one with blonde hair and very blue eyes.

  “Hey, Kelsey, it’s Colby!” this model yelled. Her name was Delilah, if Tory remembered correctly, and she had been in last season’s catalog.

  Another model, dressed only in a robe, hurtled around the corner of the porch.

  “Colby!” The voice was high-pitched as well, followed by a giggles. Tory felt suddenly as if she were very much invisible. The women were gorgeous Amazons, and it appeared they were both trying to crawl into Colby’s lap at the moment.

  She stood up.

  “Looks like you found some friends,” she said. Her voice was cool, she knew, and hated herself for it. It didn’t matter that Colby knew models. He’d admitted that he worked on photo shoots all the time. Models pretty much went with the territory. Still, the blonde one, Delilah, didn’t need to stick her tongue down his throat.

  “Whoa there, ladies,” Colby said, his voice slow and unhurried. Both of the girls trilled about how cute his accent was, and Tory had to force herself not to roll her eyes.

  With what seemed an expert move, as if he’d had a lot of experience doing it, he flipped Delilah off of his lap, stood, gave Kelsey an air kiss and distanced himself from the two girls.

  “Long time no see,” he said easily, but Tory could see he was blushing.

  “You,” the two girls seemed to speak in unison, and their high-pitched giggles were slightly accusatory, “disappeared on us last month in Vegas.”

  “My sincere apologies, ladies, but something came up.”

  “We woke up and were all alone,” they wailed, and then they giggled. Colby turned red and looked sheepish.

  “I’m sure you weren’t alone for long,” he said smoothly. The girls giggled then drifted off. It was lunchtime and they were probably going to find a spot to avoid eating.

  Colby turned to her but she didn’t know what to say, and it was just as good because the photographer called out his name. Colby’s self-assured smile lingered on her face just a moment longer before he raised an eyebrow and walked away, shooting her one last, long look at her over his shoulder.

  She had to swallow. Smoldering, yes, that was a word that could be used to describe the look Colby had shot her. Entirely bad ass, Tory thought, and totally not right for her.

  “All that and he drives a cool car,” a low, sultry voice said behind her.

  Tory turned and was confronted by a tall women, long dark hair cascading around her face in a blowout that must have taken an hour. Despite the wet lawn and slight chill in the air, she was wearing stilettos, bare legs and a green dress that just managed to be short enough to show off her long legs and while still skirting the border of age appropriate attire.

  Embarrassed she had been caught staring, Tory folded arms over her chest, feeling the need to protect herself. The woman’s dress dipped down low in front, allowing a fair view of more of her assets. Tory tried not to stare. Tory’s own assets could never quite compare. At best, perky would be an overgenerous assessment.

  The woman in the silk dress slithered closer to Tory and put her hands on the white railing that encircled the porch. Her nails were long and perfectly manicured, blood red and the scent of expensive, perfume rolled out from her, totally covering Tory’s own Spring Breeze scented body wash, which she had purchased on sale at the Queensbay Apothecary.

  “Are you talking about Colby?” Tory tried to keep her voice innocent.

  “Why who else?” The woman gave another laugh, this one higher, almost trilling and Tory could almost hear the ‘silly girl” added onto it. The hairs along her back rose. Tory had been called many things, some of them better than others, but no one, not a person had ever accused her of being silly.

  “Do you know him?” Tory asked, wondering who this woman was. Of course she could be a friend of Caitlyn Randall’s but somehow Tory doubted that. Caitlyn was just about the classiest person she knew, and this woman’s appearance was all money, no polish.

  “Oh sugar, we’re business partners,” the woman tilted her head back and laughed. There was a hint, just a hint of a southern accent, fainter than Colby’s and Tory wondered how long they has known each other.

  “I didn’t realize he had a partner,” Tory said.

  The laugh stopped abruptly and the women’s eyes, a shade of dark green, snapped back and zeroed in on Tory’s with a slightly malevolent tint to them.

  “Oh, we’ve worked toge
ther for a long time, sugar,” she drawled but there was nothing sultry in her voice now. Rather it carried the barest hint of a threat.

  Colby came around the corner of the porch and Tory saw his eyes narrow as he took in the two of them. Suddenly uncomfortable, she shifted position and wished that she were anywhere but here.

  “Eleanor, what are you doing here?” he said. Tory saw that his face had slipped into his usual easy, affable expression, but that the smile didn’t reach his eyes.

  “We had a lunch date, remember,” Eleanor purred as she glided over to him, her hand reaching out to rest lightly on his arm. “But Joe told me you were feeling poorly, so I just had to check on you.”

  He didn’t shake it off, Tory noticed, starting to turn away. Ok, so she had been checking out Colby’s rear view, and she had been caught, and the look he had sent her before he had been called off had practically melted her panties off, but now it seemed clear that he was taken, or at least he came with complications. And she didn’t need any of those.

  Tory turned away, fumbling for her phone, her tablet, anything that could conceivably give her an excuse to remove herself from this awkward situation.

  “Eleanor, this is Tory Somers, part of the client team. And Tory, this is Eleanor DeWitt.” He hesitated as if he were going to say more, but he didn’t and the silence hung there. Eleanor recovered first.

  “A pleasure,” Eleanor said, but she didn’t hold out her hand.

  “Likewise,” Tory said without holding out her hand either. She could see now, that Eleanor had moved into the light, that she wasn’t as young as she had first thought. She hid it well, but Eleanor was well on the other side of forty, closer to fifty. She hoped that she hadn’t come between Colby and his sugar mommy. The thought made her almost sick.

  “Lunch then, Colby?” Eleanor turned her full attention back to Colby.

  Tory saw he had removed her hand from his arm and taken a step back.

  “As I said, Eleanor, I need to reschedule.”

  Eleanor’s eyes narrowed and Tory decided that she didn’t need to hear this.

  “Excuse me, I need to go take a call,” Tory waved her silent phone and dashed around the other side of the warp around porch, where she was confronted by a gaggle of giggling models. But at least she was Colby free.

  She leaned her head against the wall of the porch and shut her eyes. What had she been thinking? Why would someone like Colby Reynolds, who hung out on movie sets and photo shoots, with actresses, models and sexy cougars be interested in her? Sure, he was cute—God, more than cute. He was all rugged charm, serious good looks and a sexy body packed into a leather jacket. But she, Tory Somers, intelligent, analytical, relentlessly focused on moving ahead with her career and her life, did not need to be falling for that. Especially when it was clear that she was so not his type.

  Chapter 12

  Tory hadn’t seen Colby, except from a distance, for the rest of the day. The models had needed help with costume changes and, though she’d been tempted to stick a pin in Delilah, she’d resisted the impulse. After that, there had been a legitimate crisis at work that had required a conference call and several emails. And he was working, hovering, as promised, as the models, male and female, cavorted around his cars.

  Not that it mattered. Colby was charming and cute. Ok, so he was more than cute. He was sexy as hell, but that didn’t mean anything. Once Isobel, the marketing manager, was back tomorrow, Tory doubted she’d have any reason to see Colby again. Then she could get on with her life, focus on her new job, her new apartment and the marathon she planned on running in a few months. It was the smart thing to do. Colby would be a distraction, a sexy one, but even if it had been awhile since she had a distraction, it was the last thing she needed. Not when everything else was going according to plan. A good long run, something that would make her tired, hot and sweaty was just what she needed to get her mind off of him.

  That’s were her mind was, mentally mapping out the route for tomorrow’s morning run while watching the seagulls dive and swoop over the choppy water of the harbor, when he appeared in front of her, holding a set of keys. A devilish smile danced across his face as he shook them in front of her.

  “Can I interest you in a test drive?”

  “A what?” she said, not sure what he meant until she followed the tilt of his head toward the several hundred thousand dollars’ worth of chrome and metal that sat on the lawn, gleaming in the late afternoon sun. The models had undraped themselves from the cars and were now being herded into the van for the trip back to town.

  “The cars have to go up to the driveway, to the road where I have a flatbed coming to pick them up. I thought you might want to do me a favor and help drive them up?” He shot her a grin, one so sexy and boyish that she almost felt herself combust.

  “Maybe Delilah or Kelsey could help you,” she said, turning away, doing her best to fight against her instincts.

  He reached out and grabbed her arm, turning her. “I’m asking you.”

  She looked at the keys and then at him. His arm dropped, and he ran a hand through his hair, mussing it. Too bad, Tory thought, trying not to stare, that he looked very sexy with mussed hair.

  “I met them at another shoot. They’re nice, but young and….”

  “Giggly?”

  He smiled and nodded. “Exactly. And to be fair, I did leave them, but not the way you think. They partied a little too hard, so I got them a room, saw them safely to it and then left.”

  “And the other? Elvira?”

  His face registered surprise. “Oh, you mean Eleanor?” He thought for a moment. “Sort of fits, I guess. But don’t let her know that.”

  “Who is she?”

  “The wife of a former business associate. She needed some advice.”

  “Are you always playing white knight to models and Hollywood types?”

  He tipped an imaginary hat. “Only when I need to, ma’am.”

  “Too bad I don’t need a white knight. I can take care of myself.” She turned to go. His explanation was fine. On the surface.

  “Oh, darling, I can see that. That’s why I’m offering to let you drive.” He jangled his keys again. She looked at them, then him, at the invitation in his eyes.

  “Which one?” she asked. She had done it. She didn’t know why, didn’t know what made her agree. But there was something about him, that undeniable feeling of attraction. She wanted to be the type of woman who could give into it, yet not be overcome by it. She could be that type of woman, cool, collected and in the end, the one in charge.

  He crooked a smile, and said as if reading her mind, “You choose.”

  She walked over to where the cars sat and considered. The Rolls-Royce was big, powerful, a beautiful silver gray, its chrome gleaming. It would be something to say that she had driven a Rolls-Royce, but the Jaguar’s stylish, classic lines and sporty look called to her.

  “The Jaguar.”

  “Atta girl.” He opened the door for her and, with a flourish of his hand, ushered her in.

  “Aren’t you coming?” she asked, suddenly nervous. Sure, she made a good salary and had money in the bank, but this car was still way out of her league. She wouldn’t be able to afford to fix it if anything happened.

  “I’d be honored,” he said smoothly and got in the other side.

  “You do know how to drive a stick shift?” he asked.

  She nodded. It’d been a while, but her first car had been an old Volkswagen Jetta with a thoroughly manual transmission.

  “Then you should be fine. You just have to flutter the gas a bit, to get it started. She’s an old lady, but still pretty robust.”

  Tory turned the keys and felt a thrill as the engine leaped to life. She engaged the clutch, switched into gear and hit the gas slowly, inching up the slope. Not only did she want to be careful with the car, but she also didn’t think it would be prudent to tear up Caitlyn and Noah’s lawn.

  “You could go a little faster,” Co
lby said mildly as they puttered along.

  She laughed nervously and pressed down on the gas with more force. The car seemed to leap ahead. Surprised, she practically slammed on the brake, and they were both jostled.

  “Sorry,” she muttered.

  “No worries. Takes a while to get the feel of it.” Colby’s voice was reassuringly calm.

  She pressed the gas again and this time drove smoothly up the hill, toward the drive. She pulled onto the gravel and was about to kill the engine when he said, “Want to take it for a real spin?”

  “You mean it?” She couldn’t keep the excitement from her voice.

  “Go for it,” he said, and she pressed down on the gas, feeling the wheels spin a little as they sought purchase on the gravel. The car, like a living beast, surged ahead. She couldn’t quite resist a yelp of pure joy as the car moved steadily down the drive. She turned right, heading farther away from town. She knew these roads like the back of her hand. They crisscrossed the bluffs above the harbor and were dotted with stately homes. She loved to run out here, letting the beautiful houses and glimpses of the water relax her.

  “You can give it a little more gas,” Colby shot her a smile.

  “Are you sure about that?” She felt herself responding to Colby’s own adventurous attitude.

  “I trust you,” he said.

  And so she did, inching the speedometer up to over sixty miles an hour before she slowed it back down to a more sedate thirty-five. There was a bit of daylight left, and she wanted to chase the sun. She followed it out along the coast road, heading away from town. They came to a little turnaround on the bluff just as the sun hovered above the horizon, catching its last moments before it slipped away. The sky surrounding it was streaked with brilliant colors of purple, orange and red. It was a true Queensbay sunset, the kind that graced postcards at the rack in the drugstore, the kind that tourists bought framed prints of—and it was perfect.

  She put the car into park, and they silently watched as the sun slid beneath the horizon, the dazzling colors fading to gray and indigo.The water was smooth as glass, reflecting back the rainbow of colors.