He tilted his head. “What’s wrong?”
She opened her mouth to confess but instead, the words, “We’re done,” came out in the very same cool, collected voice she’d imagined minutes ago.
“Qué?” Carlos grabbed her shoulder.
Shrugging his hand off, she said, “This,” motioning indifferently between them, “isn’t doing it for me anymore. I think we should just go back to being friends.”
Carlos didn’t have time to respond before Al McGregor walked in followed by Manny Santos, two long-time mechanics at Hogan’s.
“Heya, Sassafras. What’s shaking? Thought you had the day off?” Al glanced at the clock and marked down his time on the card.
“Al.” Did he notice she greeted him without the usual, “Al-e-gator, or Al-a-bastard” today? Sass hoped not, but there was nothing she could do. She definitely wasn’t in a teasing mood, not today. “Just stopped in to pick something up.” She grabbed a parts requisition form and held it up. “Then I’m on my way to…” Sass paused and cleared her throat, hoping no one heard the deliberately vague quality to her voice, “to, ah, Chesterville, to see Millie.”
“Millie Delacroix?”
Sass nodded emphatically.
“Say hello to the old girl for me, will you?”
Sass blinked and smiled. She had no intention of paying Millie a visit, though it was her regular Sunday routine. She was way too razzed and her former English Lit teacher would see through her immediately. But Al didn’t need to know that. “Sure, Al, I’ll tell her you said so.”
When Al and Manny moved out of earshot, Carlos moved in. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing.” Sass pressed her lips together to keep the trembling at bay. She turned around and wrote some nonsense on the form. She couldn’t risk Carlos seeing her face right now. “I just think it’s time,” she said over her shoulder. “You know?”
He didn’t reply, but he also didn’t move. She could hear him behind her, breathing slowly, and she could feel his eyes on her back. She finished writing, folded the form in half, and turned to face him.
“So,” Carlos scanned her from top to bottom, eyes narrowed. “Where are you going all dressed up like that?”
Her hands fisted, inadvertently crumpling the form in her hand. “What are you insinuating?”
“You look good, like you got a date or something.”
No way. It took every grain of self-restraint to keep from slapping him. He was accusing her of being with someone else? Of all the dirty-rotten-rat-bastard things to say.
Yet, there was a part of her that was tempted to tell him she did have a date. Maybe she’d tell him it was with the dude from outside. Just to see his reaction. However, unlike last night, she managed to control herself. With some reserve of composure she had no idea she possessed, she stared Carlos in the eye. “I don’t have a date, Carlos. I just like this outfit.”
She pushed past him, striding through the shop with as much dignity as her ridiculous shoes would allow. Shoving the front door open, she nearly ran smack into the blond colossus standing on the other side. She put a hand on his biceps to move him out of the way.
Holy. The guy was built like a rock. Someone big and strong like him could do some serious damage. Sass’s stomach sank. What would he say when he found out she had totaled his car? What would he do?
Her knees buckled.
“You okay?”
“Mmhmm.” She made a wide circle around him. It was one thing to lie to Carlos—the king of liars—quite another to lie to a complete stranger. Particularly one as gargantuan as this dude.
“What do you think? Quite a mess, isn’t it?”
“Huh?”
He motioned to his car and she moved her head in a vague nod before heading toward her car.
“Who would do this?”
Damn, the guy was relentless. The last thing Sass needed right now was to discuss the car she’d smashed with the owner of said car. But it was now or never.
Sass stopped and slowly turned around. She took a deep breath.
She licked her lips.
She cleared her throat.
Spill Sass. Spill.
“I-I…don’t know who’d do this. Bikers, maybe?”
Dammit! Where the hell did that come from? Why didn’t she tell him? She wanted to. She really, really did. But then she didn’t. Maybe because there was a small war taking place inside her brain.
No one knows it was you.
Tell him.
You can get away with it, Sass. Just fix it, better than it was before.
Tell him. Right now!
Sass glanced up at the blond giant, then at his car, and then back at him. For the second time that morning, her mouth spoke without permission from her brain. “Yeah, it’s bad. It’s going to need a lot of work. And with the windshield smashed like that? You should just leave it here until we can get to it. I can give you a lift someplace if you like.”
“Sure. If it’s no trouble. I’m staying at the Greenwood Inn.” He tilted his head to one side, a dimple showing up in his cheek when he smiled.
“No trouble,” Sass lied. She motioned to the Corvette with her chin. “It’s this car.” Once her back was turned, she shut her eyes and exhaled a shaky breath.
What the hell was she doing?
Sass slid into the driver’s seat, buckled her seat belt, started the car, and waited with pretend patience while the victim of her crime buckled his belt. Okay. All she had to do was drive the dude back to the inn and act as if nothing was wrong. As long as the cops didn’t sniff her out, she was safe. Of course, it wouldn’t take much digging to figure out that all tire irons pointed to her, but she’d deal with that moment if and when it came. Right now she had to focus on getting rid of Blondie and then she’d fix his car, free of charge.
But damn, the guy was taking forever getting his seat belt on. “You need help there?”
“No, I got it.” He flashed a killer grin at her and Sass cringed. Popping the car into first she concentrated on moving slowly out of the lot. It took continued restraint to keep from speeding the entire distance to the inn. Of course, they had to get stuck at the only red light in town.
C’mon. Green already!
“I haven’t had breakfast yet. Is there any place in town you’d recommend?”
“Not really.”
“O-kay.”
Sass glanced out her side window. Cool, Hogan. Play it cool. No smart-ass remarks. She glanced back at Jordan. “I mean, there’s the restaurant at the Inn, but their service sucks. There’s Bean There Café, but that’s mostly pastries and muffins and stuff. If you want a full breakfast, they make really good omelets out at the truck stop on the interstate.”
“Sounds good. As long as it’s no trouble.”
“No trouble at all.”
When the light finally changed, Sass pulled a U-turn and headed for the exit to the freeway. So she’d have to play it cool for a little longer. She could do it. It didn’t matter that fire ants were crawling up her legs and eating the lining of her stomach. What was ten more minutes? She could be pleasant for another ten minutes. Then she’d go someplace quiet—the cabin, it was secluded out there—and she could curse and scream at the top of her lungs without fear of being heard. Yes, once she was at the cabin, she could have a complete and proper breakdown.
…
Jordan studied the woman sitting beside him. She was an enigma. Dressed to kill in a microscopic skirt and tight, red tank top, she was a treat to look at but her abrupt responses and phony smiles had him puzzled…and nervous. Did she recognize him? Had she figured out that it was no coincidence that his car was a near replica of Rodriguez’s Mustang? Did she know he was a Carlyle from Carlyle’s Classics?
One thought of the smashed Mustang and Jordan’s throat and chest constricted. He was in deep shit. The car didn’t even belong to him. It was a shop asset and it was supposed to go to auction next week. Well, not anymore. It was going to be a week if
not more before the car was fixed. Not to mention the small fortune it was going to cost to do it. He just hoped to hell it was worth it. As much as it had never been his plan to see the Mustang totaled, the fact of the matter was, it did give him a legitimate excuse to find out what was going on at Hogan’s, which was the reason he was in Greenview in the first place.
Business was down at Carlyle’s. The recession could be blamed. Classic cars were a luxury, not a necessity. But, based on Jordan’s research, the slump in the economy wasn’t the primary reason for the economic hit on Carlyle’s. Turns out, car enthusiasts were willing to drive and, in most cases, tow the extra couple hours to have their restorations done by Buck Hogan and crew. Hogan’s Auto Body and Restoration, a rinky-dink auto body shop in the middle of Nowheresville, Colorado, had been in business going on thirty years. They’d always been a player in the industry but something had changed in recent years. They’d acquired a body specialist who was taking old frames and turning them into mint-condition, just-off-the-assembly-line classics.
It was Jordan’s mission to find out who that was and convince them to defect to Carlyle’s. Then, maybe, his family would forgive him for the fire.
He turned to the woman driving the car and said, “This is a nice car.”
“Oh, ah…thanks.”
“Is it yours?”
She appeared as if she was about to nod but instead she shook her head. A car like this, a late-sixties, rebuilt, split-window coupe, came with a hefty price tag. Employed by an auto-body shop as a receptionist—or whatever it was the girl did—Jordan doubted she could afford something like it on her wages. So, if it wasn’t hers, whose was it? Boyfriend’s?
She sure drove the coupe like she owned it, though. He watched her out of the corner of his eyes so as not to be obvious about the fact he was staring. Her little skirt rode up high and he had a view of her muscular legs. When she geared down to make a turn, he noticed how her right forearm was strong yet feminine as she gripped the pole with authority, like a professional stock-car racer.
Nice.
Jordan’s lips turned up in a grin, his mind going places it really shouldn’t considering the circumstances.
Ah, yes. The circumstances.
He let his head fall back against the seat and stared out the windshield. The same thought he’d been thinking all night hit him full in the face…again.
The Mustang was ruined.
His family was right.
He was a fuckup.
Somehow in less than twenty-four hours he’d managed to get the Mustang smashed to bits. It wasn’t the cost of repairs that made him nauseous. It was how his family would react to his latest fiasco. His brothers rolling their eyes at him, his father’s disapproving shake of his head, his mother’s expression of disappointment.
He’d seen it all before, a few too many times.
But there was no point worrying about what they’d think or do. The fact was, a totaled Mustang meant he was committed to his plan. His only option was to make the most of it.
As the sign for the truck stop whizzed by, indicating it was two miles ahead, he snuck a glance at the girl beside him, mentally rubbed his palms together, and decided it was high time to put his new plan into action. The girl was an employee at Hogan’s, a few carefully worded questions and he could have all the information he needed.
He cleared his throat. “Have you been at Hogan’s long?”
“Mmhmm.” She kept her gaze on the road ahead.
“What do you do there? Reception? Order parts?” He had to be careful. He didn’t want to let on that he knew more about the running of a shop than he should.
“Something like that.”
“I met Rodriguez last night. How long—”
“Look,” she said glancing at him and then quickly staring back at the road. “It’s my day off. I don’t really feel like talking about work.” She signaled and exited off the interstate.
Jordan clamped his jaw shut. Hell, there was plenty of time to make inquiries. With the extent of damage, the car would be sitting at Hogan’s for awhile, giving him a legitimate reason to hang around the shop. There was no sense in rushing things because obviously the girl wasn’t interested in talking and the last thing he wanted to do was create suspicion.
Moments later, she pulled the car into a truck lane and shifted into park. She sat there for a minute staring straight ahead. “You’ll have to find your own way back to Greenview.” She motioned to the trucks parked everywhere. “It shouldn’t be a problem. Anytime I’ve asked, the guys have been more than willing to help.”
“You’re not coming in?”
“No.”
Jordan laughed uneasily. If he’d known she was just going to drop him off, he would never have agreed to coming all the way out here. Somehow he didn’t think “the guys” would be as anxious to help him as they were to come to the aid of a woman who looked like her. “You know, on second thought, maybe I’ll just eat at the Inn after all.”
“I’m not going back to Greenview.”
“O-kay.” Shit. This was not going as planned. He sat for a moment before opening the door and unfolding himself from the front seat.
He wasn’t ready to give up quite yet, though. Jordan shut the door and walked around to the driver side. He tapped on the window. It took a few seconds for her to roll it down.
“You sure you don’t want breakfast? My treat?”
She didn’t look at him. “Ah…no thanks.”
What was he thinking? She probably had a boyfriend and figured he was some creep coming on to her. “Well, thanks,” Jordan said, not really meaning it.
He’d turned to go when she called, “Hey.”
“Yeah?” He bent down into the open window. She glanced up at him.
Wow. It was the first time he noticed her eyes, large and hazel with flecks of gold that lit up in the sunlight, the girl was stunning. Jordan’s fingers twitched, itching for his pencils with the urge to capture her on paper.
Before he had a chance to get lost in the unfathomable depths of her gorgeous eyes, she said, “Sorry about your car,” and then the window went up and the Corvette peeled away, spitting gravel and dust in its wake.
Jordan watched it go, both intrigued and bewildered.
Hot. Attached. Unusual. Those were the words going through his mind when he crossed the parking lot to the gas station and diner entrance. Then all thoughts of the girl evaporated as he saw a Classic Car Calendar hanging in the small entranceway. A vivid image of the Mustang, smashed and dejected, surrounded by broken glass sitting in a dark parking lot flashed through his mind’s eye.
“Restaurant’s closed,” a girl behind the counter called.
Jordan suddenly noticed the chairs set up to block the access to the deserted restaurant.
“Bugs.” The girl snapped her gum and wrinkled her nose. “Health and safety shut us down a couple of days ago.”
Jordan’s empty stomach growled despite the unappetizing thought of a bug-infested kitchen. He paid for an orange juice and a two-day-old sandwich from the cooler and went in search of a ride. It took ten minutes to locate a trucker heading in the right direction and willing to drop him off in Greenview. Well, not in Greenview, but at least at the exit. It was better than nothing.
He climbed up into the cab that smelled of stale cigarettes, pine air freshener, and BO. But the trucker was giving him a free ride, so Jordan couldn’t complain. However, he also couldn’t bring himself to eat amidst the unappetizing aromas, despite his hunger pangs. Instead he stared out the window watching the fields of golden wheat flow by until something up ahead at the side of the road caught his attention.
There was no mistaking the shiny red car sitting by the side of the road with a flat rear tire, and the girl with her short, short skirt and lovely long legs standing barefoot beside it, waving her arms as if to flag someone down. But who was that already with her? There was a half ton parked on the shoulder just ahead of her car and a big man in
a ball cap leaning against the Corvette. As the big truck whizzed by, Jordan heard himself shout, “Stop.”
“Huh?”
“You need to stop. Pull over.”
“What’s the problem?”
“I know her.”
The driver eased the big rig to the side of the road and as soon as it stopped, Jordan jumped out. There was something about the situation that bothered Jordan. Maybe it was his old habit of saving strays coming back to haunt him—a half-frozen cat missing its left ear, a bird with a broken wing, a raccoon in a garbage can that had been used for target practice by the neighborhood kids—Jordan couldn’t help it, he had a soft spot for critters in a predicament.
And although he didn’t know the woman with the short, short skirt and the red corvette, he was pretty sure she was in a predicament.
Jogging down the shoulder of the road, Jordan only slowed when he was within ten yards. The big man’s back was to him and the woman was crouched by the side of the coupe when Jordan heard her say in an exasperated tone, “I told you, buddy. I can change a flat myself.” She waved for him to move along.
Okay, so maybe she hadn’t been flagging someone down for help as he’d first suspected, but Jordan didn’t like the way the man leaned over and said, “Well, you go ahead and try, I’ll just watch. If you need some help, I’m right—”
“I don’t need your help.”
“No, but I’m here anyway. Just watching…to make sure.” There was no mistaking the lecherous note in the dude’s voice and Jordan was glad he’d stopped.
“Hey, hon.” Jordan called as he neared. He didn’t know who seemed more surprised, the dark-haired woman who suddenly stood up, or the heavyset, bearded man.
“What—” she sputtered.
He walked around to her side and put his arm casually across her shoulders. She stiffened under his arm but Jordan didn’t let her pull away. When she turned her flushed face up to his he said, “I managed to find a phone and told your parents we’d be a little late.” He turned his attention to the guy and turned on his Carlyle smile. “Of course we forget our cell phone the day the tire blows.”
He let the woman go and kicked the flat tire. “I thought you’d have the tire changed by now. Are the lug nuts loosened?”
Mustang Sassy Page 2
