Sapphire Falls: Going Zero to Sixty (Kindle Worlds Novella)

by Lizbeth Selvig

  His beard shadow had thickened even since she’d been with him that afternoon, and it softened his cheek planes. Despite that, the facial hair gave him a macho silhouette that even the pony tail didn’t temper. She’d never paid much mind to man buns or long hair on a guy. They were there or they weren’t. Harley’s hair wasn’t long enough for a bun, but at this close range, she could tell it was thick and unruly, forced into its black band where it formed an attractive, thick bunch—nothing thin or wimpy. Escapee caramel strands framed his face and made him look a little like a beach bum who’d spent the day in the sun and wind.

  A tiny, hot trill flit through her tummy as a stray image of freeing the pony tail and exploring the length and texture of his loose hair formed in her mind.

  The crack of bat meeting ball dragged her attention back again. More cheering echoed through the crowd as the ball sailed past the Dukes’ pitcher and landed behind the third baseman.

  “Go Wes!” Jack hooted.

  Wes sliding safe into second put the crowd from Sapphire Falls on its feet. Harley held up his palm for Elle to slap, and the smack was like hitting a cement wall. The concussion reverberated through her entire body.

  It was going to be a long game.

  After four innings the game was still tied at zero, and Chris was still pitching like an MVP. He’d allowed only three hits and had walked one batter, and his stance was as calm and controlled as it had been during the first inning. When the final batter of the inning had flown out, Harley touched her on the arm.

  “I promised you dinner,” he said. “Let’s go quickly—we’ll only miss a play or two.”

  “You don’t have to, really,” she said.

  “Mom’s hungry.” He grinned.

  Jack raised her brows and then nodded. “Starving,” she agreed. “Bring me back some nachos, would you please?”

  “Sure thing. C’mon, lady mechanic. Your gourmet meal awaits.”

  They stood together but had to shuffle awkwardly along half a bleacher row to get to the aisle. In the midst of her apologies and after she’d stepped on two shoe toes, she felt Harley take her hand and guide her surely to the stairs. He kept hold until they reached ground level and even after he released hand, her nerves send out enough sparks to accompany the Star Spangled Banner.

  These reactions were turning from cliché into pathetic—and the truly sad thing was, she was starting not only to expect them, but to enjoy them. Heaven help her come Monday morning, but for now she was on the verge of giving up. A hot guy was holding her hand and buying her hot dogs. She had no choice but to enjoy the moment.

  “Why it’s Harley Holt. I’ve been looking for you!”

  Both she and Harley spun toward the voice behind them in line. A short, handsome woman in her mid-forties, with dyed red hair cut neatly around her ears and a gaze that fixed on Harley like radar lock, smiled and held out her hand. Elle never judged people poorly on her first impression, but this woman had an aura made up of red flags.

  Harley shook the proffered, beringed hand with its lavender-painted, salon manicured nails, while Elle took in her weirdly formal attire. Who wore suit trousers and a button down white blouse to a high school baseball game?

  “Valentina,” Harley said. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

  “Ah, but I expected to see you. Your brother is pitching an amazing game. I don’t think anyone thought the score would reflect such matched play.”

  “Ah, but I did.” He smiled, and Elle studied it surreptitiously.

  He seemed pleased enough to see her, but he’d lost his relaxed stance the instant their hands had clasped. As soon as she released him, he stepped back.

  “I understand you’ve been trying to reach me,” Beatrice said. “I’m sorry, I’ve been out of town. In fact, I got in right before the game and haven’t even had time to go home and change.”

  “You hurried from the airport to a high school baseball game?” Harley’s brows rose.

  “I have a nephew playing for York.”

  Well that explained the passive aggressive compliment about Chris.

  “A good rivalry is a wonderful thing.” Harley nodded as if it all made perfect sense. “And it’s true, I have left a few messages. But there’s no need to discuss it here. Will you be in your office on Monday?”

  “I will. I admit I even have an inkling of what you want. It might be an interesting conversation.” Her gaze turned to Elle. “And who have we here?”

  Nothing in her face or her manner gave Elle a reason to dislike her, but she kept up her guard and smile politely. For whatever reason, this woman was important to Harley.

  “Valentina Nolan, this is my new hire Elle Mitchell. She has credentials that don’t quit. I think you’ll be very impressed. Elle, Valentina is an attorney and business woman, and one of the area’s most philanthropic people. She lives here in York.”

  Valentina? Could anyone have embodied that weighty name more perfectly than this woman?

  “I’m impressed without seeing a single qualification.” Valentina lifted her hand again, and Elle grasped it with a firm handshake of her own. “If Harley hired you, you’re gifted. Period. The fact that you’re a woman is simply too good to be true.”

  Every word hit a perfect note; the tone was practiced and faultless. Still Elle’s suspicion lingered.

  “I’m simply here to do the best I can, like any new employee.”

  “Perfect answer! Harley, I like her.”

  “Icing on the cake.” His words held the faintest hint of mockery. “I like her, too.”

  The dynamic between Harley and Valentina confused Elle on every possible front. Did Harley like her? Admire her? Was she genuine? Or as phony as her acrylic nails? Their exchanges felt like moves on a chess board, but Elle couldn’t fathom what the game was or why it was being played.

  Harley started to make their good-byes when he was halted by the arrival of a boy who could barely have been legal drinking age. About the same height as Harley’s six-one or –two, the kid was two-thirds Harley’s weight. Lanky as a camel with a long, pleasant face and fifties’ Buddy Holly glasses, he looked like a walk-on for Minnesota Timberwolves or Denver Nuggets try-outs.

  “Oh good!” Valentina positively sparkled. “Before we go our separate ways, you have the chance to meet Johnnie Markham.”

  Harley’s eyes widened. “I know your name.” An odd edge formed on his words.

  “You ought to.” Valentina nodded in satisfaction. “He won the last four ARCA races he entered. I know you follow the racing industry pretty closely.”

  “Impressive,” Elle said, to be polite, and got a semi-annoyed eye from Harley

  Her father had loved watching the top levels of auto racing, and Elle had spent hours watching with him. The Automobile Racing Club of America was one of the larger stock car sanctioning bodies in the United States, but she had to admit, she knew nothing of Johnnie Markham’s or his accomplishments.

  “Rookie year.” Harley’s observation came out slightly clipped. “And Valentina is interested in your career, I take it.”

  “Sponsoring me.” Markham’s deep voice shocked her. She’d fully expected his first sounds to be notes from Peggy Sue.

  “That right?” Harley gave him a tight smile.

  “But, man, I gotta say. It’s a privilege to meet you.” Markham nearly bubbled out of his skin to shake Harley’s hand. “I’ve been following your bike racing career all my life. I wanted a motorcycle in the worst way when I was a kid, but my folks put the ki-bosh on two wheels. I had to settle for cars. Not nearly as exciting.”

  “Doesn’t seem to have hurt you.” Harley gave him a perfunctory nod. “You had a great season. Look, I’m sorry to cut this short, but I don’t want to miss my brother’s pitching, so I’ll catch you later.”

  “Sure, ‘course. So great to meet you.”

  “Likewise.”

  “Come to my office at one o’clock Monday afternoon,” Valentina added. “I think it would b
e nicer if we talk in person.”

  “I’ll be there. Thank you.” Harley’s flinty voice softened slightly, and Valentina turned away with Johnnie Markham.

  “Nice to meet you both,” Elle called.

  “And you, too. Ellie, was it?” Valentina looked over her shoulder.

  “Elle, but close.”

  Valentina gave a little wave and headed for the bleachers. When Elle turned back to Harley he had pushed his way to second in line at the concession stand and stood rigid as a pole, his hands in his pockets.

  “Hey,” she said and tapped him on the shoulder. “Can you tell me what that was all about.”

  “No. Not until I’m over being ten on the playground and wishing I’d punched that little shit in the nose.”

  “What? Harley! The guy practically swooned over you.”

  “Fake praise. He’s a pipsqueak from money and lots of it. There’s nothing wrong with that—I’m not envious of money. Except that he’s been able to buy cars, mentors and opportunity since…” He scowled. “Since Mommy and Daddy first said no to motorcycle. Poor little guy,”

  “So bitter,” she chided.

  “It’s not even that.” He looked back in the direction Valentina and Markham had gone, but they’d disappeared. “It’s that he has all this money and he was still able to waltz in after one lucky season and nab the exact thing I’ve been trying to find for the past year.”

  “What’s that? A cougar relationship with Valentina Nolan. Eeeww.”

  Even he smiled.

  “That was weird, Elle.”

  She shrugged.

  “No. I’ve been looking for a sponsor quite a while now. About six months ago, Valentina announced she was getting into stock car racing to honor her late father. She has more money than her buddy Mr. Glasses does.”

  “Buddy Holly actually.” Elle half giggled, half snorted.

  “Huh?”

  “He looks like Buddy Holly.”

  “Before my time, but, yeah, I suppose. Anyway—I’ve been trying to get a meeting with her for a very long time.”

  “But, did you have a winning rookie season?”

  “About three years ago. Unfortunately, I did it under the radar, trying to figure out if I could make the transition from bikes to cars.”

  “Really? Then I’m impressed with you, too.”

  She patted him on the back, exaggerating it as if he were a loveable St. Bernard and not a guy whose hard, sexy muscles plain turned her on. Her reward was a genuine smile complete with eyes that sparked with renewed warmth.

  “You know what? I think I just aged out of my snit.” With a laugh he draped an arm across her shoulders. “You’re weird, Elle Mitchell, but I like weird. I think I hired the right mechanic.”

  A thousand and a half butterflies in her stomach warned her to pull away from the touch that clearly meant no more than platonic doofiness to him, but she ignored every single one of them.

  Chapter Eight

  The Miners won the semi-final game when they scored two runs in the top of the seventh and final inning. Chris allowed tying runs on base, but then he shut down three batters in a row to secure the victory. Harley, along with a hundred other jubilant Sapphire Falls fans, swarmed the team and swelled with pride when his brother was unofficially name MVP by the coach.

  He got a brief chance to introduce Elle, but then the team was off to debrief and then celebrate. Chris would take the team bus this time.

  And so the night ended with a thud. After the high of winning and the fun of getting to know Elle better, reality and depression slammed through him when he sat behind the wheel of his mother’s Highlander with her beside him and watched Elle cross the parking lot to her goofy little Prius. His heart sank at the quick, chipper wave she offered before she opened her door to climb in, and he couldn’t figure it out.

  The night had been downright fun. She was everything he’d seen in her from the beginning: funny, kind, quick with a tease or a smile. She talked to his mother as if they’d known each other for years. She talked to him as if he was more than a dumb gear head. She’d graciously greeted every person he’d introduced her to, asking questions and acting as if she couldn’t wait to get to know them better.

  It was the best date he’d ever been on, and it had been an accident, spent with his mother watching every move. Now, despite his insides jittering like a dozen tap dancers on speed, he was letting her walk away with nothing but a “well thanks that was a lot of fun.”

  The loss of her beside him left a hole filled only with the knowledge that his night would be long and filled with thoughts of her. And of Valentina Nolan fostering her rich little driver wannabe.

  The dark envy in his chest made him feel contemptable on so many levels. Professional jealousy had no place in sports. It was just that he’d worked his ass off for so long trying to make a legitimate go of his talent. To have a spoiled rich kid waltz in and grab the whole prize was hard to take.

  Elle had eased the unworthiness. She’d laughed the pair off and told him she was impressed by his accomplishments. Even if she’d only been being kind, the compliment was powerful.

  He should have asked her out again, but he had to let her go. She was coming to work for him in four days… And so what? They could do coffee, tomorrow, to talk about the shop, the racing, how she’d come to love cars so much. Any excuse to feed this crazy, sudden attraction. Or he could even…

  In a sudden decision, he threw his car into park.

  “Be right back, Mom.”

  He caught Elle as she closed her car door behind her, and he rapped on the window. She jumped but then smiled when she saw him. She pushed the hybrid’s start button and the window slid smoothly into the door frame.

  “Hi,” she said. “What can I do for you?”

  “Do you, ah, have to get right home?”

  She bit down on her bottom lip and laughed. “Harley, haven’t I worn out my welcome? This day has been pretty strange already.”

  “You haven’t worn out anything, and that wasn’t an answer.”

  “Okay. Then, no. Technically I have no home yet, so I guess I don’t have to go there.”

  Emboldened by the fact she hadn’t rejected him out of hand and by the amazing silly grin she turned on him, he took a chance. “I’ve got something I’d really like to show you. Could you…would you be willing to follow me to Mom’s so I can drop her off?”

  “Show me something.” Her eyes took on the same twilight sparkle as the nine o’clock sky—pale lavender-blue with fiery gold highlights. “Are we talking etchings? Weird red rooms in otherwise normal dwellings?”

  “I wish.” He set his hands on the window frame and leaned an inch or two into the car. “It’s sad. I don’t really like red.”

  The laughter—his favorite part of her voice—broke free, and she covered her mouth to hold back sputters.

  “Okay,” she said at last, moving her fingers. “This day has been fifty shades of super strange already. Why wouldn’t I want to see how it ends?”

  “My thought exactly.”

  “I’ll meet you at your mom’s.”

  “Seriously, where are we going?”

  Elle settled deeper into the Highland passenger seat, and Harley smiled into the night, growing darker with every passing moment. His mother was safely home and dosed with her last round of Percocet for the night, after which she’d promised he would not find her awake when he and Elle returned.

  They were headed toward town, although he wouldn’t have to take them that far. The atmosphere in the car was easy and relaxed. To his relief, his sophomoric jitters and nerves had vanished. Once again he was adult—not ten looking for revenge on a bully or fifteen hoping a girl would finally allow him past first base.

  “We’re going to a garage,” he said. “Part of my friend’s station—the only other car shop in the area.”

  “A busman’s holiday? You conned me into coming to work? I’m incensed.” She grinned.

  “Onl
y kind of. I am taking you to a car. This one doesn’t need any work, though. My friend doesn’t take in many high performance cars—he doesn’t want the pressure of working on them. But what he will do is hide one for a friend.”

  “Hide one…” Suddenly, even in the car’s dark interior, Harley could see her eyes light. “Wait—you have a stock car, don’t you?”

  As it had that afternoon, his imagination could barely embrace the idea of a woman who got excited over a car. It was supposed to be opposites that attracted, but he was doing fine with a woman after his own heart.

  “If I say yes will you come with me into a dark building? Alone?”

  “And you said I was weird.”

  He smiled to himself in wonder. She made him comfortable. He’d known her for five hours, yet he believed he could say anything to her and she’d be fine. He honestly knew better than to read anything into their micro relationship, but for the moment he was ecstatic that it was moving forward.

  He pulled into a spot at the back of Dylan Maxwell’s garage and turned off the car.

  “You weren’t kidding. It is dark.”

  “Good thing you can’t see me leering at you.”

  Her chuckle filled the car, and as the security lights at the far end of the building filtered through the darkness, her muted profile made him want to touch her. Her nose was slightly larger than classic but it fit with her high forehead and the pout-shaped lips that he’d never yet seen actually pout.

  “Come on,” he said and reached for the door handle instead of her.

  He unlocked the garage door and ushered her into the pitch black space first.

  “Now you’re just showing off,” she said. “Where are we?”

  “A new addition to Dylan’s shop. He’s had the only garage in town a while now and is always swamped, so he actually gave me his blessing when I started up. He’s a great friend to have. And since my shop is still relatively small, he lets me keep this here.”

  He flipped a switch, and the room flooded with light. The twenty-by-twenty-five space was a fully functioning garage complete with a hydraulic hoist and two walls of tools. One large bench contained Harley’s things—a collection of equipment he’d scrimped and saved to purchase for the express purpose of working on the beauty that actually dominated the space. #74.