by Zoe Dawson
The woman waved at Brooks. This must be the mayor. But it wasn’t her son she was interested in. Boy, news sure did travel fast in a small town. The mayor headed for Rafferty’s table.
He reached into his back pocket for his wallet and pulled out some money, dropping some bills on the counter. “Thanks for the meal, Cadie.”
She flushed as she snatched up the cash. The very least the kid could have done was tell Cadie how good it was.
“Hello, may I join you?” The woman was knockout beautiful with shoulder-length deep auburn hair parted in the middle that made her unusual ice-blue eyes stand out. She had to be in her late thirties, but she had a sprinkle of freckles across her nose and alabaster cheeks. Beneath a stark white sweater, she wore a simple navy top and matching pair of pants. Rafferty discovered this small-town resident obviously had amazing taste in shoes with the designer spectator heels on her feet.
“Of course,” Rafferty said, smiling at the woman’s boldness.
She reached out her hand and Rafferty liked the warmth in her smile. “Trinity Gill. I’m the mayor of Laurel Falls. It’s a pleasure to have you here.”
Her handshake was strong and firm. “Oh, Mayor. That’s a nice welcome. Thank you, but I’m just passing through. My car…”
“Is on the fritz. Yeah, I heard that. Small town, no secrets.” The woman couldn’t possibly know that Rafferty was here to scout out land. That wasn’t common knowledge and there had been nothing in her car to give her away, but there was nothing to stop Trinity from googling her. She would come up on a search as being the VP for development of Hamilton Hoteliers. There was even an article about her in Forbes. She could tell Trinity Gill was a shrewd and intelligent woman. Maybe this was some kind of fishing expedition.
“Where are you from?” she asked, eyeing Rafferty’s meal. The youngest Black could definitely cook and Rafferty savored every bite.
“New York City.”
“Ah, what I wouldn’t give to spend a few days shopping there.”
“I noticed the bangin’ shoes and have to confess that I do have a thing for pricey heels and handbags.”
Trinity laughed. “Yes, thank God for Internet shopping.” She shifted back and settled into the seat and said, “What brings you out this way? That’s a trek.”
Maybe this was a fact-finding mission, but Rafferty wasn’t going to be hooked. She gave Trinity the same spiel she’d given Trace, but her perceptive blue eyes didn’t waver.
“Well, it’s too bad about not staying. We’ve got—”
“The best scenery in the area. I know. Cadie and Trace filled me in.”
They talked some more about the city and where the best places to shop were, then Trinity rose and left her to the rest of her meal.
Rafferty couldn’t help but notice how dismayed Cadie looked after her sorta friend left. It was clear to her that Cadie was carrying a torch for the guy. Definitely cute kid with all that appealing red hair, the finely formed features, and the sadness that seemed to shadow the green of his eyes.
Rafferty thought instantly of Sean. There was no torch, only sadness of a relationship gone, a marriage that was nothing more than a sham with a man she thought was right for her. Had her judgment been off, or had Sean snowed her? She vowed to never get caught like that again. She pulled out her cell and found Susan’s number. As soon as the phone connected, she said, “It’s about time. I was getting worried.”
“Well, so far, I’ve been here all day and still don’t know what’s wrong. The mechanic seems competent.”
“What’s the holdup?”
“He’s busy with customers. It’s a one-man operation and he’s never worked on a foreign car. Especially a custom-built one.”
“Ah, sounds like a one-horse town.”
“It is, but there’s something about it…It’s full of contradiction. It’s run-down and even boarded up, but the buildings are old and beautiful. The people are very friendly and there’s this cute little teenager who cooks like a dream in the diner. She’s the sister of the mechanic.”
“You keep softening your voice when you say, The Mechanic, like it’s got air quotes around it. What’s going on there?”
“Nothing.”
“Hmmm. Nothing in like he’s cute? Got a killer bod?”
“Susan…as a woman who shares a pillow with my dad…”
She chuckled. “You know your dad is quite aware that you have sex. Hello, you were married. And you know that little dodge by changing the subject isn’t going to fly.”
“He’s okay.”
“Uh-huh.”
“He’s got great eyes.”
“Does he? The kind that could get you into trouble?”
“He’s pretty good looking, but I’m just window shopping.”
Rafferty expected Susan to laugh, but instead her voice got serious. “I could jet over and we could shop, spa, and lunch in fabulous L.A. Rodeo Drive sounds wonderful.”
“No, Susan. I can wait until I get home. I’m sure you are waist deep in work, and I’m fine. Really. Stop worrying.”
“You know the only people who say they’re fine…aren’t. I could have Greg make the trip, and you can rent a car and drive to California. I’m sure your car will be ready when you get back.”
She would handle her feelings about Sean, and as time passed, they would fade. “I have no intention of getting involved in any kind of fling with a small-town mechanic, so set your worries to rest. Under no circumstances tell your overprotective nephew anything. Greg will be on the first plane here if he thinks anything is wrong.”
“I know exactly how my boy will react. But, you know you’re not fooling him, either. It’s hard to not want to stick our noses in when we sense you’re struggling with the divorce. I know how much you like to be in control.”
She cringed at that confession. “I’m struggling with being divorced.” She hated that she was fooled by him and hurt so badly. “But, Susan, you’ve done enough hand-holding. I’m the one who needs to come to terms with it. And, I will. Thanks, though, for being there for me when I needed a shoulder to cry on. It means the world to me.”
“Anything you need, you call me, sweetie.”
“Promise.”
She disconnected the call and Cadie came over. “How was it?”
“Completely delicious.” Cadie handed her the bill and Rafferty reached into her purse and pulled out some money. She took care of the check, then said, “You keep dreaming and working hard.” Rafferty slipped a hundred into her hand. “Here’s a little something to add to your school fund.”
Cadie flushed with the praise and beamed at the money. Those reactions made Rafferty’s day.
Rafferty crossed the street as the sun was dipping behind the Rockies, the falls bathed in a peach hue, brushed with shadows. As she approached the front door to the garage, she saw a little old lady struggling with a large pot. Rafferty ran over. “Let me help you with that.”
“Oh, my. It is heavy. Overestimated my strength or my common sense. One or ta other.”
She was a little bitty thing with snowy-white hair, a pair of twinkling brown eyes, and the sweetest smile. “I brought dessert, too.”
“This smells really good.”
They walked side by side up to the door and the woman waved her hand. “Just simple beef stew.” As they entered the garage, Trace was bent under the hood, still at it.
“Sarah,” Trace said, the smile of welcome going all the way to his eyes. “Everything all right with your car?”
“Yes, you do fuss about my mechanicals, young man,” she scolded, but it was in a good-natured tone. “My car is fine.” She touched his arm. “I brought you some beef stew and an apple pie.” When he started to protest, she cut him off with a wave of her hand. “I know that Cadie cooks for you, but she’s often busy at the diner.” Trace quickly wiped his hands and took the pot from Rafferty, setting it down on the workbench. “It’s nothing fancy, but will stick to your ribs.”
“That is very neighborly of you. Thank you, kindly, Sarah.”
“It’s the last of our beef. I’ve sold the place, Trace. Will be vacating soon and going to live with my sister in Florida. You do so much for me, especially since Clint passed. Even taking up your precious weekend time checking on me.”
“I was going to stop by and take a look at that old tractor. Sounded rough the last time I was out there.”
“When you can.” Her voice softened and she glanced toward the house. “How is your brother? We are so proud of him and what he’s done.”
“He’s adjusting and healing. Thank you for asking.”
“Give him two helpings of that apple pie, then, you hear? Apples are good for the soul.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
With another friendly touch to his arm, she left.
He called up to the house and Reese came down to pick up the food. Before she could ask him about the car, another woman snagged his attention. She was overly familiar with him and Rafferty went and sat in the waiting room. He reminded her much too much of Sean, yet his character jumbled up that image in her head, especially after the way he’d treated that little old lady. She rose and marched back into the garage.
Chapter 4
Anzu Hudson walked the short distance to Black’s. She didn’t bother with the front door. Only moments ago, she’d slipped down the stairs of the spacious two-story home she shared with her mother, Dr. Eden Hudson, her gritty eyes stinging from her late-night hacking, her ears still ringing with the heavy metal she’d blasted through her earbuds.
Slick as grease, she had hacked into her school records just for fun. She didn’t change anything, but she was like a ghost, in and out.
Their living area was upstairs and her mother’s clinic downstairs. It was a small practice as the town declined, even now some of the backcountry townspeople still found it difficult to deal with a female doctor. But her mother was an awesome physician. She was Harvard-trained and tested in one of the most dangerous and volatile cities in the world—Los Angeles. Something had happened to her mother when Anzu had been thirteen. Her mother had been hurt, but the extent of her injuries was a mystery to Anzu. She’d never been told. But only weeks after the incident, her mother had quit her job, taken over this rinky-dink practice, and brought her to this tiny town where she stood out like a sore thumb.
She had hurried through her homework, wanting to get to Black’s and finally get a chance to see Harley. He’d only been back a week, but Trace had said he wasn’t up for visitors.
As soon as she entered the garage, Anzu heard the woman’s voice before she saw her as she skirted the sweet car that was parked in the closest bay. What she wouldn’t give to work on such a beauty. Expensive, and stood out like a giraffe would in the streets of Laurel Falls.
“I was wondering how it’s going with my car.” The woman sounded tired and a little impatient.
“Trace can fix anything,” Anzu said, rounding the hood. The woman was classy and her hands were on her curvy jean-clad hips. Trace looked like he was blindsided by the woman’s intensity.
He whipped around and said, “Hi, kid. What brings you around?”
“I wanted to see Harley. Mom said it was okay.”
He nodded, sympathy in his eyes. He shifted his gaze back to the pretty woman. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but someone put the wrong transmission fluid in your car. This is a high performance engine and you needed a higher performing fluid. With city driving it probably would have been okay, but with the number of miles you’ve traveled, the transmission fluid degraded with use. Selecting the proper fluid can be complicated, but with a new car that should have been a no-brainer.”
“Except this car is imported and custom.”
He nodded. “Noted. But that could have been the problem. Automobile companies, even your custom one, would have specifications for the fluid, exact viscosities, friction, and additives. They’re protective properties for your transmission. Once those protective properties were lost, it was only a matter of time. I would bring this up with whoever sold you your vehicle. Adding in the wrong fluid also, usually, voids your transmission warranty.”
“What does this mean?”
“Your transmission seized. I’m afraid it’s not salvageable. I can’t even rebuild it.”
The woman closed her eyes and leaned back against the doorframe. “I hear an and in your voice. There’s more bad news?”
“I contacted the company in the UK where your car was manufactured. I’ll need parts to repair it. The best guess as to when they can send me the parts is…seven to ten days. The job will take another few days or so. You’re looking at about two weeks before you can get back on the road.”
“Well, it looks like I’m going to be doing some sightseeing. Can you recommend an inn or hotel?”
“There’s nothing around here, but…”
“We have an extra room. It’s spacious, with a small bathroom.” Anzu liked the idea that there would be someone like this woman in her home. It was…exciting. She was beautifully dressed in an Aztec-influenced coat that was navy and red with accents of yellow and a navy blue top, the tight jeans, and a sweet pair of red suede boots. She carried a Kate Spade complementary hobo bag.
She had some style, unlike her reserved mom. Her mom had the kind of features that made men stare, but she didn’t date. She was dedicated to her job and to raising her daughter.
Anzu didn’t resemble her in any way with her black hair that was currently streaked in purple, her black nail polish, ripped tights, jean skirt, kick-ass combat boots, and white peasant blouse. She’d been abandoned on her mom’s doorstep, this little unwanted Japanese girl, when she’d been three. It was clear she was adopted, since her mom’s blond hair and blue eyes didn’t match.
Her mother often said that their hearts matched and that was enough.
Sappy mom stuff, but it made Anzu smile.
Trace raised a brow. “Don’t you think you should ask your mom first?”
Anzu shrugged. “She won’t mind, seeing as she’s stranded.”
The woman offered her hand and Anzu shook it. “Rafferty Hamilton, and you are?”
“Anzu Hudson. My mom is the town doctor.”
“If you’re sure that’s not an imposition, I’d be happy to accept a room.”
“Anzu’s right, Eden won’t mind. She loves company. She has her practice and Anzu’s got school. You’ll have to fend for yourself,” Trace said.
It was clear that Trace thought the woman would be better off in a hotel where she would find services better suited to her obvious wealth. The car was spectacularly foreign, looked custom, and was no doubt very expensive. The coat she was wearing alone had to have cost at least a cool thou.
“You could have access to the kitchen and we have a TV.”
“The room will be fine, Anzu. Thank you.”
Even in spite of Anzu’s original reaction, she liked Rafferty’s warm smile. It went all the way to her eyes. That meant it was genuine. Anzu had seen enough tight, fake smiles to know the difference.
Now that it was settled, Anzu indicated the bag she was carrying. “This is for your brother. Medicine.”
“Thanks,” Trace said, and stared at her for a moment longer and she jangled inside, so afraid he would say no. Everything she was feeling she kept completely inside. She didn’t want him to see how torn up she was about Harley. If he did, he might try, in his Trace way, to make it easier on her and refuse.
“All right. I’ll take you up.” He took the bag out of her hands and said, “I’ll be right back, Miz Hamilton.” Trace looked tired, Anzu thought, wondering if Harley was keeping him up at night. “Did you ask your mom about the job?” he asked as he held the side door for her. Passing through, she shook her head.
“I have to wait for the right time. She won’t want me to work here. It’s not personal against you. It’s just that she thinks I’m still a baby, that being around men will make me crude. If high
school hasn’t made me rough with the kind of stuff boys pull, I don’t think working in a garage is going to do it.”
Trace chuckled. “I could really use your help. You are a whiz with engines, and that foreign job is better served with two people working on it.”
“I hear you, but my mom will dig in her heels and get stubborn if I’m not careful. Have some patience.”
“I’ll try.”
She gave him a cheeky grin. “You know, if you didn’t have all those women constantly in and out of there, it would free up your time.”
He grabbed her around the neck, squeezed, and let her go. “You smart ass.”
“See bad language. You’ve got to watch that kind of talk, jerkwad.”
He laughed again, but then sobered as they got closer to the house. Her throat was already thick, the nervous tension back. Trace, Reese, and Harley had been like the brothers she’d never had. She wondered, fleetingly, why her parents hadn’t wanted her. He stopped and said, “Listen, he’s really wounded, and not just physically. You have to understand, he’s not himself, so don’t take anything he does or says personally. Okay?”
Gathering all her courage, she followed Trace inside and to the kitchen where he set the prescription on the counter. “There’s some stew and apple pie. Why don’t you dish some of that up and include yourself if you haven’t eaten. I’ll go get him.”
Her hands shook as she opened the cupboard and pulled out two plates and two glasses. Geez, the Black’s kitchen, like Trace’s garage, was well maintained. Even the chrome on the sink’s faucet shone. She heard footsteps and took a deep breath, bracing herself.
When she turned, she was so glad that she had worked at not showing any emotion on her face. The bullying and the feeling of being an outcast all stemmed from her being abandoned; right now that all gave her strength. To face him. Like this.
He leaned heavily against Trace, looking exhausted and haggard, completely like he’d been through a war zone. There were dark circles under his eyes, his frame thin, his shoulders looking even broader from the weight he had lost. Bruises, a blending of black, blue, and green, marred his handsome face, down his cheekbone and along his beard-shadowed jaw. His eyes were the same cobalt as Trace’s, his hair just a tad lighter, a soft caramel, spiked and messy from sleep.
