Mustang Sassy

by Daire St. Denis

  “Huh?”

  Crouching down, he tested the nuts. They were loose. The jack was still lying on the ground at the side of the car.

  “It looks like you’ve got everything under control,” the guy in the cap said as he backed away.

  Jordan stood, pulling his shoulders back and crossing his arms over his chest. “Yeah. Thanks for your help.”

  The guy grunted in response and lumbered over to his truck. Once he’d driven away, the dark-haired woman held her hand out for the jack. “I’ll take that.” Jordan handed it over and then watched as she bent down to set the jack up under the body of the car.

  “You’d better let me do that,” Jordan said.

  Sounding exasperated, she said, “I know I’m a woman but, believe it or not, I’ve changed my share of flat tires. I don’t need your help.”

  “Fine. There’s only one problem,” Jordan said eyeing her lovely backside.

  “What’s that?”

  “That skirt you’re wearing? When you bend over it doesn’t really cover everything.”

  “What?” She straightened in a flash.

  “The guy was a scumbag, but I can’t really blame him for stopping. You’re putting on quite a show.”

  The woman turned an interesting shade of red and then tugged at the hem of her skirt while she backed toward the car. She muttered something under her breath but let Jordan finish changing the tire without another complaint. Once the flat was stored in the cargo space, she mumbled, “Thanks.”

  Jordan grinned. It was the most reluctant thank-you he’d ever heard. “You’re welcome.”

  “You eat fast,” she added, half to herself.

  “The diner was closed.”

  ”That sucks.”

  “Yeah, it does.” His stomach growled, and he realized he’d forgotten his sandwich in the cab of the truck. “I guess you haven’t eaten then, huh?”

  “No.”

  She glanced up the road and sighed.

  “You don’t mind giving me a ride back to town, do you?”

  The way she kept chewing on her lip said she did mind.

  “Or, if you need to be someplace maybe I can hitchhike back to town.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut for just a second, then motioned toward the car. “Don’t be silly. Get in.”

  However, once they were back on the interstate she took the next exit headed south, away from Greenview.

  “Um, where are we going?”

  She pointed to a sign they were approaching. It read MOYER’S RESERVOIR STATE PARK—FIFTEEN MILES.

  “The state park?”

  She glanced at him, a weird expression on her face. “Yeah, I’ve got a cabin. I’ll make you breakfast.”

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “I know.” A few seconds later, “I feel bad. For stranding you in the middle of nowhere. It’s…ah, the least I can do.”

  “If it’s not too much trouble, that’d be great.” Jordan crossed his arms over his chest, trying to contain his grin. He couldn’t believe his luck. This was why he’d come here, to find out what was going on at Hogan’s. Now he had one of their employees at his disposal for the morning. If all went well, he’d have all the information he needed by the end of breakfast.

  “It’s fine.” She peeked over at him. “You’re not some freaky serial killer are you?”

  “No, though if I was, I doubt I’d admit it.”

  Her lips twitched, and then she went back to staring straight ahead.

  At the next intersection, the car turned onto a gravel road and Jordan noticed she drove with much more care—probably so as not to chip the paint of the mint-condition ’Vette. Finally, after following the winding road down a gentle slope, she pulled into a tree-lined drive and parked in a shady spot next to a rustic cabin. These were the first real trees Jordan had seen since driving into the unlikely named town of Greenview, Colorado, on Friday night. But, this valley was pretty and seemed like a different world from the flat, nondescript prairie town.

  His distracted hostess stepped out of the car and shut the driver’s door with only a glance in his direction. Jordan followed. It was just past ten, but already warm for the second week of September, and he felt sweat trickle between his shoulder blades as he inspected the property. The cabin was sided in cedar shakes and couldn’t be more than a couple of rooms. There was an outhouse in the back, but it appeared to be out of commission. At the front of the cabin was a wide deck with steps leading down to a sandy beach and pier that was barely visible through the trees.

  Jordan hung out for a few minutes on the deck, checking out the scenery and waiting for enigma-girl to invite him inside. When the cabin door opened, he realized no invitation would be coming because she strode past him wearing only a swimsuit. “I’m going for a swim. Make yourself at home.” She waved in the general direction of the deck and walked briskly down the steps to the beach and pier. Through the trees he could see her stride to the end of the dock and dive off into the water.

  O-kay.

  Puzzled by the girl’s odd behavior, Jordan followed her down to the beach and, finding a folded lawn chair leaning against a tree, set it up in the shade of an aspen and waited. Maybe she liked her alone time. Whereas he liked to draw, she apparently liked to swim on her day off. For the second time that morning, he wished he had his sketchbook with him. The sun was at the perfect angle and each wave was capped in sparkles of sunlight. That’d be tricky to capture, but he’d give it a try. He liked challenges.

  He clasped his restless hands behind his head and watched the girl swim away from the dock. Jordan envied her and how relaxed she was, her arms pulling lazily through the water. If only he had a suit, a good hard swim would probably make him feel better. Doing anything other than sitting still would make him feel better. With a groan, Jordan pushed himself out of the chair and paced up and down the sandy beach. It shouldn’t have been difficult, the waiting, it was a beautiful day, he was on vacation and he had been hijacked by a lovely, albeit slightly off-balance woman. But it was. Probably because being here in Greenview had the potential to be his best plan yet. Or…his biggest fuckup. His dreams hung in the balance and Jordan felt as fidgety as a featherweight before his first fight.

  Half an hour later, though it seemed like an eternity, the girl emerged, dripping and panting. She walked right past him, her gaze flicking over him as she plodded barefoot up the steps to the cabin. He rose to follow her, his stomach rumbling until his gaze focused on the sway of her hips and the way her suit clung to her finely toned body, and his hunger for food was forgotten, replaced by another, unexpected, hunger.

  A foot away from his face, swirling across the small of the woman’s back, was a tattoo. Bright orange-and-yellow flames licked up from beneath the curve of her suit, taunting him as she moved up each and every step ahead of him. Did she have any idea what that tattoo did to him, to men in general? Probably. A woman who changed a tire in a microscopic skirt must know the effect she had on men. He caught his toe on the wooden step and reached out for the rail, but still couldn’t tear his eyes from her back. He had a sudden desire to know where, exactly, the tattoo started and what it might feel like beneath his fingertips.

  Too soon, they reached the deck and the girl with the fire tattoo disappeared inside the cabin, closing the door behind her, neglecting to invite Jordan inside.

  He waited on the deck, his hunger pangs returning with a vengeance when a few minutes later the woman poked her head out the door of the cabin and said, “Still interested in breakfast?”

  “If it’s not too much trouble.” Did she realize the increased degree of sarcasm every time he used that phrase?

  It was hard to say. He couldn’t see her face as she said, “C’mon in,” and turned back inside.

  It took a moment until his eyes adjusted to the dim light inside the cabin. It was rustic. And he’d been right. It was essentially one room, with what looked like a small addition housing a bathroom. It was small and
simple and set up for relaxation. There was a big brass bed in the corner, a river rock fireplace, an old TV with rabbit ears and a not-so-high-tech tinfoil extension. Jordan could picture himself kicking back on the well-worn loveseat or easy chair, and he imagined the solid oak table and four chairs had seen plenty of cookouts in their day.

  The girl squatted in front of the bar-sized fridge in the kitchen, checked the due date on a carton of eggs, and sniffed the bacon, saying quietly to herself, “It’ll pass.” She’d changed and if Jordan had thought she looked good before, he’d been mistaken. She was hot now. Maybe it was how easily and fluidly she moved in her stringy cutoffs and ratty T-shirt. Her uncombed, towel-dried hair gave her a just-got-laid look that was incredibly appealing. When she turned to him and asked if he wanted some coffee, he noticed the sprinkling of freckles across her small nose and under her eyes. But it was her eyes that were most striking, those hazel eyes that had a slant at the corners, giving her face an exotic quality. Damn, he was smitten.

  “Coffee sounds great.”

  “The coffee tin and pot are there. You know how to make cowboy coffee, don’t you?” She pointed to the items in the lower cupboard with her flip-flop-clad foot and eyed him speculatively.

  “Sure. Just grounds and water and let it boil, right?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  She didn’t say another word to him until they were seated across from one another at the table, eating.

  Finally she said, “So what are you doing here?”

  “I was kidnapped by a crazed woman…”

  Her response was a half smile and Jordan noticed one slightly crooked eyetooth. Damn, the girl was adorable.

  “No, I mean, what are you doing in Greenview?”

  Jordan chewed slowly and swallowed. He considered his next words carefully. He would have to repeat this story more than once, so he wanted to get it right. “I’m from Denver and I had some vacation time to use up. Normally I’d go somewhere warm, tropical. But then I thought, why not explore what’s in my own backyard.”

  “Most people head west, into the Rockies.”

  He shrugged. “Yes, but there’s a few rallies I wanted to hit. Lincoln this week. Kansas City, next week.”

  “There’s a good one in Dodge City…” she said before shoving more food in her mouth.

  Thank God. She seemed to have bought his story. “Anyway, I was just passing through and thought I’d stop for a steak sandwich and a beer, and the next thing I know, some maniac totals my car.”

  The woman started coughing, like her coffee had gone down the wrong way.

  “You okay?”

  “Fine,” she sputtered. After she managed to get her coughing under control, she asked, “How long you plan to stay in town for?”

  “Until my car’s done.” Jordan smiled and then frowned. Did he have something stuck in his teeth? Was that why she was staring at him strangely? He ran his tongue over his teeth just as she quickly glanced away again.

  They ate in silence for a few minutes, and then, without looking up from her food, she asked, “You go to the cops yet?”

  “Not yet.”

  In between chewing and moving food around on her plate she said, “Any idea who did it?”

  He shook his head. “It’s a mystery.”

  “You piss someone off?”

  “Nope.”

  She grinned. It was the first time he’d seen the full expression on her face, and he liked it. She had the kind of smile that put lovely creases in her otherwise creaseless face. That crooked tooth was so damned cute and her eyes twinkled.

  Her words, on the other hand, weren’t quite so endearing. “I bet a guy like you never pisses people off, right?”

  Jordan frowned at her. A guy like him? She didn’t know who he was, did she? No. Impossible. But, it would explain her odd demeanor and the way her gorgeous legs just couldn’t stay still beneath the table.

  “What do you mean?”

  She studied him while she ate her last strip of bacon. Then she cocked her head to the side in a way that made Jordan’s stomach lurch. God. He’d blown it. She knew exactly who he was.

  Chapter Three

  Something about the guy made Sass uneasy. She watched him through narrowed eyes trying to figure out what it was. Well, apart from the obvious—he was the victim of her crime and should not be sitting across from her, at her cabin, no less. Why had she invited him? Some stupid form of self-punishment or something? She pretended to eat but couldn’t because her stomach was too busy churning. Instead, she took every opportunity to study him, trying to suss out if he had any clue what she’d done. He was good-looking in an all-American, boy-next-door, kind of way. He had long dark eyelashes that framed light blue eyes, a square, stubble-covered jaw, slim nose, and a cocky smile. His blond hair was short, kind of spiky on top, with a bit of wave. It seemed like it’d be soft to touch. Probably smelled good, too.

  Sass shut her eyes, briefly imagining.

  Her eyes popped open. What the hell was she doing? Thinking about sniffing his hair?

  He’d probably been quarterback for his high school football team. The kind of guy who didn’t give a girl like her the time of day.

  Yet there was something about him. When she’d touched his arm at the shop, her fingers had tingled. What was that about? Was it the muscle he had hidden beneath his designer shirt? Who didn’t get a little tingly around all that muscle? She snuck another peek. His shirt stretched wide across his chest. If his arms were any indication, he probably had a nice chest. Cut. Washboard abs. Those nice little vee muscles down around his hips.

  Sass wiped her suddenly damp palms on her shorts.

  What was wrong with her?

  Oh hell. It was her regret that made her feel uneasy and sweaty around him. Guilt settled in her gut, stretching out its legs and kicking her in the ribs, making her groan

  Thankfully Blondie didn’t seem to hear as he was too busy with his mobile phone, touching the screen and frowning. Yep, definitely from the city. Couldn’t go two minutes without checking his phone.

  “There’s no service out here.”

  “Huh?”

  She pointed at his phone. “No service.”

  “Ah.” He turned the phone off and put it away, then smiled at her. “I really like the Corvette.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Whose did you say it was?”

  “I didn’t.” Sass cringed inwardly, realizing she was being evasive. Suspect. “It belongs to the shop.”

  He looked surprised for a second.

  “They let you drive it?”

  “Buck’s good that way.”

  “I hear there’s an auction next week in Vegas. Is Hogan’s going to sell it?”

  She cleared her throat and tried to swallow again. The bacon didn’t seem to want to go down. Sass took a long swallow of coffee to help it.

  Giving up on her food, she carried her half-finished plate to the trash and dumped it. The backs of her eyes stung as she thought about the Corvette. Buck had promised that she could keep the ’Vette, seeing as she was the one who’d restored it, as long as she paid for materials. One more paycheck and she’d have been able to do it. Then her dream car would have been hers.

  Last night changed everything. She’d have to auction the ’Vette if she hoped to have enough cash to pay for the repairs to Blondie’s Mustang.

  With her back to him, she said, “Yeah, they’ll probably sell it. Not sure when, though.”

  His chair scraped across the wooden floor, and she felt his approach in the boards beneath her feet.

  “Can I help with dishes or something?”

  Her plan had been to leave the dishes and get the hell out of there, but maybe washing dishes would distract her from what she’d done and the imminent loss of her Corvette.

  However, as soon as the sink was full of sudsy water, his questions continued. “So, you seem to know your car shows. Do you go to many?”

  “When I can.”

 
; “Have a favorite?”

  “Rolex Monterey Motorsports Reunion.”

  “I love that one. Were you there last month?”

  She nodded. “You?”

  “Yeah.”

  She glanced at him. Maybe she’d seen him. Maybe that’s why he looked familiar. Weird. Thinking they may have crossed paths at some point in the past without ever realizing it gave her the shivers and she quickly went back to scrubbing dishes.

  “So you’ve worked at Hogan’s awhile, huh?”

  “Yep.” That was an understatement. She’d only spent every spare moment there for as long as she could remember. A foreboding flash of a for sale sign in front of the shop made her shiver again. If Blondie sued, that’s what could happen to the shop. She and Buck could lose everything.

  “Hogan’s had some cars in the rally in Denver in June, didn’t they?”

  “Hmm?” It took a moment for his question to sink in. “Oh. Yeah. Carlos and Al took some cars down, but Buck didn’t bother…” Sass’s words trailed off. Buck hadn’t missed a rally in Denver in years, but he’d taken time off to go to Florida this year instead. Now Buck was away on a cruise. Thinking about Buck’s strange behavior only served to unsettle her more.

  “I met Rodriguez last night. I remember his Mustang from the rally. Were you there, too?”

  “No.” Sass shook her head and turned to gaze out the window. Dammit! Even though she’d made her decision not tell him, at the mention of Carlos’s name, the urge to confess was strong. So strong, she had to bite down on her lip.

  “How long has Rodriguez worked at Hogan’s?”

  “A while.” Sass let the water out of the sink. Her pulse pounded between across her temple. It was loud. Could he hear it? Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.

  “You okay?” He glanced at her feet.

  Sass realized it was her flip-flop making the thwacking sound. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

  He folded the damp towel and hung it on the rack right beside her. She could feel the warmth from his chest, he was standing so close. Looking down at her, he asked in a too casual tone, “How well do you know Rodriguez?”