by Sasha Goldie
Home Truths
Love In Three Lakes: Book 1
Sasha Goldie
Contents
1. Nate
2. Ian
3. Nate
4. Ian
5. Nate
6. Ian
7. Nate
8. Ian
9. Nate
10. Ian
11. Nate
12. Ian
13. Nate
14. Ian
15. Nate
16. Ian
17. Nate
18. Ian
19. Nate
20. Ian
21. Nate
22. Nate
23. Nate
24. Ian
25. Nate
26. Ian
27. Ian
28. Nate
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Home Truths
1
Nate
"Shit, she’s coming, I’m muting you." I slammed my finger down on the speaker phone’s mute button as my boss threw my office door open. Rising quickly, I stopped myself before going into a slight bow. Damn it. "Good morning, Crissy," I said brightly, one hand on my tie. I couldn’t have a crooked tie in front of her.
"Project for you." She plopped a file on my desk, the reflection of the late morning sun off of her diamond rings nearly blinding me. "I'm leaving early today. I suggest you do the same and give that file your top priority." Her perfectly manicured nails caught her eye and she buffed one with her finger as she turned away. "I don’t think I need to remind you what a win of this magnitude could do for you." She sauntered out, all power suit and short-cropped hair.
Holy shit. What had she given me? What magnitude? I fought the urge to rip the folder apart as I unmuted my sister. "Okay, Sara, I'm back."
"I don't even know if it's worth continuing the effort."
My sister's voice rose from my speakerphone on my desk.
"What?" I tried to remember what we’d been talking about as I pulled the file toward me. Oh, yeah. Her dating game. "Well, you know how I feel about those kinds of apps," I said as I looked at the file, suddenly slightly scared to open it.
"You're too old-fashioned. But let me ask, powerful big brother, how do you find your one-night stands?" The line went quiet as she waited for me to answer.
"Sara, that's none of your business." No way I'd tell her I'd downloaded one of those apps myself. It was a convenient way to meet someone when I needed a date or a little companionship. What it wasn't was a good way to meet Mr. Right. Mr. Right wasn't on those apps, not for me or Sara. Of that I was sure.
"If you say so. I think you're more picky about what I do than what you do."
Sucking in a deep breath, I opened the file. "Hooooly shit," I whispered.
"Did BadAss Boss Bitch give you another baby job?"
"Sara," I hissed as I looked at the sticky note on the top of the folder. "Don't call her that."
"Well, I'm not saying it in a negative way." Sara huffed. "She is a badass boss bitch."
The note was written in Crissy’s perfect handwriting. Absolutely neat and no way to tell if it was written by a man or a woman.
Welcome to the big leagues. - CG
She was right, but it didn't need to be said in the office where she could pop in at any moment—like she just had. "No, not a baby job. She's just laid a big project on my desk."
"Ohhh, anything good?"
I turned the page and read the projected project income. "Yes. It's good. It's very, very good. Big leagues, indeed." I leaned back in my chair. "Very good."
"You sound like a broken record. Give me more details."
"A sale of this enormity will almost certainly guarantee me the promotion to senior partner." Pressing my hands on my desk, I tried not to jump up and squeal in excitement. My office had a big window looking out onto the cubicles of all the techs and assistants that worked for us. It wouldn’t do for them to see me behaving so unprofessionally, so I settled with kicking my feet under the desk.
"Whose dick did you suck to get that job?" Sara snickered, her crude humor always making her laugh.
"Nobody," I replied, scandalized. "You’re such an asshole. I got this lead because I work hard, and it’s finally being noticed." I wasn't sure what I'd done to get Crissy to give me the project, but I'd have a drink in my honor for doing it.
"I’m teasing, brother. Nobody works harder than you. Hell, I haven’t seen you in two weeks, and I live with you!" Sure, I'd been working my butt off to try to impress Crissy and the other higher-ups at the real estate firm, but so had a bunch of other junior partners.
"Whatever made her pick me, I can’t let her down. She’s constantly riding my ass about landing big sales and bigger leads. This will make the clients remember my name as well as the board."
I leafed through the papers in the folder, getting an idea of the magnitude of the sale. The property in question was a prime location in a small town poised for growth. Three Lakes, Oregon. The millennials were all flocking to small towns and smaller footprints, making every Small Town, USA, a great spot for development. If I could find the right developer, this would open a multitude of doors.
This job needed me to be there in person. "Sara, I’m going to have to go to this job."
"Where?"
I gave her the specs. "I’ll be there for at least a week. Maybe longer. It looks like some of the back-end stuff has been done by the assistants, but I’ll have to set up the auction and make sure the right people are invited. They’ll need a week’s notice."
"No worries. I’ll hold down the home front. Are you sure driving through the mountains this time of year is a good idea?" As much as I’d always taken care of her, she’d always done the same for me. "When are you leaving?"
"It should be. The highway department is pretty good about keeping the roads clear. It’s almost time for spring thaw anyway. And, as soon as possible. I’ll make reservations on my way home, pack, and head out so I can get there before dark."
My office was simple. I was a firm believer in clean aesthetics. No clutter, no excess. Packing up for a week away took almost no time at all. My briefcase stuffed full, I locked my office door without having to leave anything behind that I might need while up in the mountains.
Switching between apps on my phone, I started a packing list and searched for a hotel as I walked home. There weren't a lot of options in the actual town the property was closest to, so I'd have to put the potential buyers up in Bend, the closest city. The hotel, the Red Lion, wasn't ritzy like I'd like to have for them, but it would do the job. All the others were too small-town and their reviews weren't promising. Plus, the Red Lion was closest to the physical property location.
The minuscule town of Three Lakes didn't actually have a hotel. It was that small. Red Lion was booked until later in the week, which was fine for the potential clients, but I needed somewhere to stay starting tonight, and preferably very close to the property.
AirBnB came through for me. A small apartment was vacant for the week while the owner was on vacation. I'd be able to check in as long as I got there by eight. I consulted my watch. I had plenty of time.
I switched over to a one-page website about Three Lakes. Christ, I hoped the sale kept me busy over the week I'd be there. The town sounded boring as hell. I had a lot to do, but they didn’t even have a movie theater, much less a club. The brewery up in the mountains looked interesting, but I couldn’t go there every night after I finished my work.
My feet carried me to the coffee shop in the lobby of my apartment building without my brain even realizing it. The apartment I shared with my sister in Portland was within walking distance of my office in one direction and her office in the other, mak
ing the commute a breeze for both of us. I liked to run anyway and often jogged to work, changing into my suit in my office before officially coming in for the day. Having a small coffee shop in our lobby was the icing on the cake.
The line was long, so I used the time to balance the paperwork of the file on my briefcase in my arms and take pictures of each paper. Now I could reference any part of it directly from my phone.
"Non-fat mocha, no whip, please," I said without looking up at the counter. Tapping my phone on the reader to pay, I had my coffee in hand within minutes.
As I entered the elevator, juggling my briefcase, phone, and coffee, my jerky neighbor bumped right into me, crushing my coffee cup against my chest. Scalding coffee poured all over me. I snatched my phone and briefcase out of the way in time, but my suit was covered.
"Damn it," I muttered.
The hateful woman didn't even stop, just kept going on her merry way.
"Thanks a lot."
Many people didn't keep cars in the city, but I'd always liked to have one. Sara used it sometimes, too. Luckily our building had a parking garage, so I didn't have to worry about a storage fee. It had been given an oil change recently, too, so I was good to go straight to Three Lakes as soon as I packed.
I put my coffee-covered suit in a dry-cleaning bag to drop off on my way out of town and packed for a week away. After consulting my list to make sure I hadn’t forgotten anything important, I took my suitcase and briefcase to the car.
Minerva was my baby. She was a dark blue, two-seater Mitsubishi sports car. I'd saved up all through high school and restored her myself. I'd never wanted anything more than that vehicle until I graduated from college and got my first job as a real estate agent. My tastes became decidedly more expensive after that, but I never got over the love of my first car.
The car was really the only thing left of the man that used to tinker in the garage with his granddad.
After a brief stop at the dry cleaners, I pushed his memory out of my mind as I left the city and hit the highway toward Bend and Three Lakes. With any luck, I'd be there before nightfall. Maybe. I checked the time again. If I made good time, it might happen.
Getting out of the city wasn’t too bad that time of day. Once I was out of traffic and speeding down the highway, I rolled the windows down and enjoyed the crisp air. Spring would give way to summer before long and it would be way too hot to enjoy a long ride. It wasn’t long, though, before it got too cold, and I had to put the windows back up.
The drive was pleasant, even though the reception from the radio cut out pretty quickly. I plugged my phone in. I'd downloaded a mixture of early 2000s pop for a client the week before—I'd been talking to him and trying to find common ground. He loved early 2000s pop, so I'd quickly downloaded a bunch to play while we were discussing the sale of his business. The sale had gone well, and I partly credited bonding over music with him.
It would have to do. I'd be in Three Lakes soon. Anyway, I could handle a bit of pop. The trees flew past me as I hit the gas harder, heading toward the rest of my life with an enormous smile on my face.
2
Ian
Between the radio turned up to classic rock and the sound of the air compressor, I almost didn’t hear the phone ringing. When I paused my air ratchet and the sound of the compressor dulled, I finally heard the shrill jingles of the shop line. Pushing the creeper out from under the car with my feet, I jumped up and ran across the room to snatch up the receiver.
Shoot. Dead line, too slow. I was the only tow truck or mechanic for a forty-mile stretch down Highway 22, so I always tried to be available. If nothing else, I stayed busy. Sometimes, too busy.
A few seconds after I hung up the line, it rang again. I grabbed it during the first ring, nearly dropping it in the process.
Our cell service in the small town wasn't great, so everyone still had landlines, a fact the tourists and transplants thought was funny and cute. As close as we were to Bend and all the prime skiing and hiking, it was always tourist season in Three Lakes.
For me, the lack of service was annoying. As the owner of a small towing company, having a reliable cell would've been very helpful. The service did better toward Bend, but coming from Portland was a total dead zone.
But hey, at least we'd finally gotten high-speed internet. It had been a joint effort by the city council and the chamber of commerce to try to attract more young people to the area.
"Garland's Towing and Mechanics," I said into the receiver.
"Hey, Ian, this is Brady Holmes." Three Lakes boasted a small-town community with almost no crime, thanks to our grand total of three police officers. Brady was the newest addition to the force.
"What can I do for you, Brady?" He was a nice guy; he'd made a good addition to the population.
"I've got an overheated car out there on 22. From the looks of things, it's a cracked head, but I'm not sure. Can you come to pick it and the owner up? I left him out there to come to the nearest phone and call it in."
"Yeah, hang on." I grabbed my day planner from the desk. I'd learned long ago to make sure I didn't have any tows scheduled before leaving out on an emergency call. Nobody liked being stood up by their tow truck driver. "I'm wide open this afternoon. I'll be there in about half an hour."
"You're looking for a blue sports car about halfway between mile marker sixty and sixty-one."
"Thanks, Brady," I said and hung up the phone. Looking down at myself, I sighed and walked upstairs to my apartment.
I didn't like to wear my greasy work coveralls on a tow. Not that it mattered, really, but I always liked to keep the inside of the truck as clean as possible. I never knew when I might have to give someone a ride, and I would’ve hated putting a little old lady into a nasty truck.
A good scrubbing got most of the grease off of my hands, then I swapped my coveralls for a pair of jeans and a tee.
It would do. I couldn’t really help it anyway. I did the tows because they brought in good money, but my heart was in the mechanic work. Always had liked it better than anything else.
Ten minutes later, I forwarded the phone to voicemail, opened the big bay door of the shop, and pulled the tow truck out into the parking lot. As usual, I did a quick walk around to make sure everything on the truck looked good. Nothing leaking, no strange sounds, and no flat tires. What would people say if the tow truck needed a tow? In a town as small as Three Lakes, that would’ve been really embarrassing.
After a quick look to make sure all my tools and supplies were there and stocked, I hopped in.
It took a bit longer than I thought to get out of town. First, the manager of the grocery store down the road stopped me as I pulled out of my parking lot. "Hey, Ian," he called. "I was just coming to see you. Know anybody for part-time?"
The truck engine rumbled as I shook my head. "Sorry, Charlie. I just lost my part-timer to college."
Shaking his head, he thanked me and walked around the truck toward his store. He was probably walking back from lunch. He liked to go home to his wife for a hot lunch every day he could get away. I didn’t blame him, it had been quite a while since I’d had anybody make me a hot lunch.
Before I hit the open highway, a group of bicyclists on the road slowed me down again. In the big tow truck, it took me a bit to find a place to get around them. I knew most of them, though, and didn't want to crowd them to save a few minutes on the highway.
I followed patiently behind them, waving at people I saw walking around town until they turned off the main road to go toward a winding mountain road popular with local bicyclists.
Nobody was hurt, and the broken-down car would still be broken down five minutes later. No sense in getting in a big hurry as long as nobody was injured or anything like that. Brady would’ve said if the guy needed help of that nature.
Finally, I was on the road, making good time with the windows rolled down and the music cranked. I hated leaving the shop without anyone to answer the phones, but I couldn't le
ave the tourist stranded for too long.
Jake, my former part-timer, had helped me until a few months back when he'd moved away to go to college. It had been nice having someone in the afternoons to answer the phones and do a little grease monkey work. I kept forgetting to hang a sign on the corkboard at the diner to try to replace him.
If highway patrol was going to keep me busy, and they always did, I needed to find another part-timer. Besides, it might be nice to take a night or two off once in a while.
I'd tack up a hiring sign when I got back to town. Couldn't hurt to look. For now, if there were any local emergencies they'd just have to wait.
By the time I saw the blue car on the side of the road, I’d hit the dead zone. The radio cut out, and my cell phone wouldn’t have worked if I’d paid it.
Pulling slowly past the guy lying on the hood of the car, I turned around about half a mile up the road at a small pull-off made for just such reasons. When I got back to him, he was standing beside the older vehicle, with an expression like someone had just kicked his favorite puppy.
I tried not to give a snap judgment as I eyed him standing in a sweater and slacks. He had a haircut that screamed, "I spend all day in an office building," and his shoulders were set exactly like my ex, cocky and confident. And completely freaking hot. Total city boy, probably coming to the mountains to ski. I didn’t see any skis sticking out the window of the tiny car, so maybe he was one of those that like to talk about skiing, but never actually wanted to get out in the cold, wet snow. With a snort, I backed the truck up and eyed city boy in the rearview. Here goes nothing.
