Chapter One
“A month? Are you kidding me, bro? Where did you say you were?”
Austin Bishop gritted his teeth and repeated himself for the third time. “Western Illinois, heading for the Iowa border.”
On the other end of the line, his older brother cursed in annoyance. “You can make the drive to Colorado in a few days, Austin. Are you seriously telling me it’s going to take you a month to snap some pictures of a few small towns?”
No, probably not.
“Yes, definitely,” he lied, flicking the turn signal of his SUV and changing lanes.
He zoomed past a slow-moving SUV then steered back into the right lane of the freeway. A sign up ahead informed him that the next service station was in two miles. Thank God. He was dying for a coffee.
“Let me get this straight—you’d rather drive around the Midwest than come home for your own mother’s fiftieth birthday party.” His brother sounded incensed now.
“It’s not a matter of would I rather,” he muttered in response. “This is my job, Nate. I can’t just tell the magazine to fuck off. I agreed to this commission and I have no choice but to follow through on it.”
He was lying again, and he hoped Nate’s big-brother psychic powers didn’t kick in to call him on the bullshit. Truth was, he’d been doing his damnedest this past year to stay away from Paradise, the scenic mountain town where he was born and raised. That meant taking assignment after assignment, even ones he wasn’t particularly passionate about. Despite some opinions to the contrary, photography wasn’t just about taking “pretty pictures”, but there was no doubt that his recent work had been less about passion and more about avoidance.
This latest job—snapping shots of small-town Main Streets—was definitely not his cup of tea. He preferred grittier subject matter, like the spread he’d done last year when he’d spent a month in the Middle East capturing the violent riots that had broken out on the streets of Baghdad. That particular spread, in fact, was responsible for the piece of paper currently taking residence in his duffel, the one listing him as a finalist for a Pulitzer. He hadn’t won the acclaimed prize, nor had he attended the festivities luncheon, but just being selected as one of the two runner-ups had been a shining moment in his career. Only twenty-five, and already on his way to winning a Pulitzer. Hot damn.
He hadn’t told his family about it, though. Although he’d come home a handful of times over this past year for special occasions, he’d barely said a word to his mother or brothers during the visits. The realization brought a pang of guilt, but at the moment, he didn’t have it in him to try to bridge that distance he’d created.
And he couldn’t bring himself to rush home just because his big brother commanded it.
“Look, I know you’re pissed,” he said with a sigh. “I’ll try to finish this assignment as fast as I can, but I can’t make any promises, Nate.”
“Fine. Whatever. Just call when you know your exact ETA.”
Click.
Nate had hung up.
Austin’s brows shot up in surprise. His older brother never hung up on people, which told him that Nate was not just pissed but absolutely furious.
He couldn’t say he blamed him, but again, Austin had no intention of rushing home. That last visit to Paradise had taken a lot out of him, so much so that he’d pretty much sprinted right out of town and hadn’t had any contact with his family for three months.
Family.
The word lingered in his head like a bad odor. His father, Henry Bishop, had been a carousing drunk and a shitty dad, so shitty that his sons had banded together and vowed never to be like the man who’d sired them. For as long as he could remember, Austin had considered his older brothers his best friends and role models. As the youngest, he’d worshipped Nate, Owen and Jake.
And his mom. Lord, he’d worshipped her too. Out of all the boys, Austin had been the mama’s boy, the one who ran to Della when he got hurt or when he got in trouble at school or when his big brothers were picking on him.
But those days were long gone. Which was usually what happened when you discovered that the person you trusted most in the world had been lying to you your entire life.
Sighing again, Austin tossed his iPhone in the cup holder and sped off the highway ramp. Twenty minutes later, he’d filled up the gas tank, ordered an extra large coffee from a Mickey D’s drive-thru, and was back on the road.
Main Streets of the Midwest. Christ. What a cheesy, flowery subject, and one he didn’t have much interest in, but hey, he’d take pictures of his own ass if it meant avoiding Paradise just a little while longer.
He plugged his phone into the AUX port of the rented SUV and scrolled through his music until he found something that matched his mood. Metallica. Loud and angry and overwrought with angst.
The pounding drums and wailing guitars were the perfect soundtrack for the empty stretch of road. He’d already hit towns in Michigan, Ohio, Indiana and Illinois. His next stop would be Iowa, followed by Missouri, Kansas, Nebraska and the Dakotas if he could squeeze them in. His agent needed the photos by the end of June. They’d be featured in National Geographic’s sister magazine, American Geographic, which was slowly gaining prestige as a top travel publication.
So far, he’d enjoyed his time on the road. Well, except for the nights. The pity parties always seemed to commence once he was settled in various shithole motel rooms, and he’d been getting such little sleep that it was a wonder he could make the fourteen-hour-a-day drives without dozing off behind the wheel.
The coffee helped, though. So did the earsplitting heavy metal bursting out of the speakers.
Austin felt oddly at peace as he sang along to “Enter Sandman” and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. The conversation with Nate slowly seeped out of his head, allowing him to focus on the scenery rolling by and the fresh summer air wafting in through the open window. There were no other cars on the two-lane highway and not many structures on either side of the road, just endless fields, colorful flowers, and trees in their summer prime. Everything was green and so beautiful he was momentarily glad he’d taken this gig. Normally he didn’t do much traveling in the States, and especially not around these parts, but he had to admit, the Midwest was prettier than he’d ever imagined.
Twenty minutes later, he decided the Midwest wasn’t just pretty—it was smoking hot.
Or rather, the sweet ass on the side of the road was smoking hot.
And he wasn’t being a macho jerk for thinking of the woman up ahead as sweet ass, because all he could actually see was her ass. That round little bottom, hugged by cutoff denim shorts, was jutting out in the air as its owner leaned under the open hood of a beat-up white Toyota that looked like it belonged in a junkyard.
Austin eased his foot off the gas, a smile springing to his lips as he studied the damsel in distress. He couldn’t see her face, but he noticed she had great hair—reddish blond waves that stopped just above her shoulders and shone in the morning sunlight. Her bright purple tank top revealed her to be slender, and those shorts showed off a pair of tanned, shapely legs along with that spectacular bottom.
The woman’s back stiffened when she heard the sound of Austin’s engine. She quickly straightened up and turned to investigate. The moment she spotted his car, she started waving vigorously.
Austin would have stopped regardless, but that one glimpse of her face was definitely an incentive to pull over a little faster. The redhead wasn’t drop-dead gorgeous, but beautiful in a wholesome, fresh-faced way that made his heart beat a little bit faster. She had big blue eyes, freckled cheeks, and pouty pink lips that were currently being nibbled on by her teeth.
The second his car came to a stop, his distressed damsel r
ushed over to the driver’s side and flashed an enormous smile.
“Thank you so much for stopping! You wouldn’t believe how many cars sped right by me. What happened to all the Good Samaritans? Are they extinct?”
She looked so upset and insulted that Austin had to laugh. “Well, you’re looking at one, so clearly there’re a few of us left.” He reached for the door handle. “What seems to be the problem?”
The redhead bit her lip again. “I don’t know. My car just died. It didn’t make any weird noises, didn’t overheat, didn’t start chugging. One second it was running, the next it wasn’t. I managed to steer it onto the shoulder, but I can’t start it up again. I called a tow-truck company, except the guy said they’re backed up and can’t come get me for another four hours.”
“Why don’t I take a look and see if it’s an easy fix,” he offered.
Gratitude filled her expression. “Thank you. I really mean that. I’ve been standing out here for nearly two hours waiting for that stupid tow. I was considering walking the fifteen miles to the service station when you came along.” Her blue eyes widened. “Can you imagine someone with my complexion walking in this hot sun? I’d get third-degree burns!”
He chuckled. Yeah, she was very fair. Her skin looked like porcelain, except for those cute reddish-brown freckles. His groin stirred at the sight, reminding him of the fact that he hadn’t gotten laid in…how long had it even been? Four months? Six?
Eight, his libido reminded him, accusatory as hell.
Fine, so maybe sex hadn’t been on his mind lately. But it sure was now—he couldn’t take his eyes off the petite redhead as she led him toward her car.
Austin whistled when he got an up-close look at the vehicle. He’d never seen a sorrier looking car—every part that could rust had rusted. The paint job was shot to hell. The back passenger door didn’t seem to close properly, and the other back door was an entirely different color, red to the rest of the car’s white. And either he was imagining it, or the muffler was being held up with duct tape.
“Damn, sweetheart, I’m surprised this pile of junk got you this far. Where’d you come from?”
“Chicago,” she answered. “Headed for Des Moines.”
He arched one eyebrow. “You honestly thought this car, for lack of a better word, would get you to Des Moines?”
“I was hoping it would. I mean, it’s only three hundred miles, and the guy at the junkyard gave me seventy-thirty odds that we’d make it.”
He choked on a laugh. “Seventy to make it?”
She heaved out a breath. “Thirty to make it.”
“Remind me never to go to a casino with you.” Fighting his amusement, he walked over to the open hood and peered inside.
A second later, he couldn’t contain his laughter. It came pouring out in hearty waves, so strong he had to bend over and grip his side.
“Is it bad?”
The redhead’s forlorn voice brought on another wave of mirth. Wheezing, he straightened up and met her worried eyes. “Bad is an understatement. Every component of the engine is corroded to shit, your battery is leaking acid, your fan is unsecured, there’s exposed wiring in there that I don’t even want to touch, there’s no radiator cap—”
“I get it,” she interrupted. “The engine sucks.”
“Yup.”
“Should I call the tow guy again?”
“You should call a garbage truck.”
“Ha-ha.”
“I’m serious. There’s no point in trying to fix this lemon. It’ll cost you a helluva lot more than it’s worth.” And seeing as she’d gotten the car from a junkyard, he deduced that she wasn’t exactly rolling in the dough, a suspicion he wisely kept to himself.
But she surprised him by saying, “Well, since I’m broke and homeless, I don’t think paying to fix the engine is an option.” When she saw his expression, she grinned, flashing a set of perfectly straight white teeth. “Don’t worry, I’m not homeless homeless. But I did have to give up my apartment after I lost my job, so now I’m stuck moving back in with my folks. Gee, how fun. They offered to buy me a plane ticket, but I was trying to prolong the awful inevitable for as long as I could by making the drive instead of flying.”
He grinned back. “I know exactly how you feel. I’m doing the same damn thing.”
“Really?”
“Yup. I’m making my way to Colorado, and trust me, I’m in no rush.” He paused. “I’m Austin, by the way. Austin Bishop.”
She stuck out her hand. “I’m Mari Smith.”
The second their palms met in a shake, a rush of heat flooded his groin. She had such small, dainty hands. But damn, that grip of hers was strong.
He swept his gaze over her once more. She had a fantastic rack, creamy cleavage spilling from her tight tank, and goddamn, but he really was loving those legs. She couldn’t be taller than five-two-ish, but her legs still looked long and shapely as hell.
When his eyes returned to her face, he saw the knowing smirk on her lips. “You need to be more subtle when you’re checking out a woman,” she said frankly. “I’ll tell you what, give me a ride to the next service station and I’ll give you some tips on how to ogle without getting caught.”
Austin just shrugged. “I don’t mind when the woman I’m ogling knows just how much I’m enjoying the view.”
Mari cocked her head. “Huh. Somehow I don’t find that offensive. Anyhoo, about that ride…”
Chapter Two
Mari didn’t usually beg for rides from complete strangers, but she had to admit, it wouldn’t be a hardship spending some more time with her sexy rescuer, even if it was just a short car ride.
She couldn’t believe her luck—not only had someone actually stopped to help her out, but said stopper happened to be the hottest man on the planet. Other women might turn their noses up at his appearance, but Mari had always been drawn to the scruffy type. Her pulse kicked up a notch as she stared at Austin Bishop’s stubble-covered face and messy dark hair, and then her heart stopped beating altogether as her gaze slid down his impressive body. He wore a Denver Broncos T-shirt that looked like it had gone through the wash a hundred thousand times, but the thin material only made it easier to discern the rippled awesomeness of his muscular chest. Faded denim jeans encased his long legs, and his tan-colored boots were scuffed-up and lightly spattered with mud.
She wondered if he worked on a farm, but he didn’t give off a farm-boy vibe. Wasn’t a cowboy either, since no self-respecting cowboy left the house without a Stetson on his head. The shiny silver SUV he was driving told her he wasn’t an unemployed shmuck like her, but his lean body and bad-boy stubble made it difficult to hazard a guess about what he did for work.
Not that it mattered—she didn’t care what a man did for a living as long as it made him happy. Happiness was super important, in Mari’s opinion. Which was precisely why she’d chosen to move back home instead of settling for some random job she wasn’t passionate about. She was an artist, damn it! With a teaching degree, to boot. She refused to work as a cashier or a waitress or any of the other positions she’d seen advertised in the want ads. Thanks to layoffs, she was no longer employed as an art teacher, but she was certain she’d find something in Des Moines. She already had two interviews lined up, one in the public school system, the other with a private school.
But God, moving back home? She was so not looking forward to that. She loved her parents dearly, but living under their roof again would be pure torture.
“Okay, I guess not then…”
The teasing male voice broke through Mari’s thoughts, and she found Austin grinning at her. Man, he had a sexy grin. And a dimple in his chin. She was such a sucker for dimples.
“Sorry, what did you say?” she asked.
“I said I’d be happy to take you to the next service station, but wouldn’t you rather get dropped off at a bus terminal? Or the airport?”
She pondered the question. “A bus terminal would be great,” she adm
itted. “Like I said, I’m in absolutely no hurry to get to Des Moines.”
Austin gazed at her in sympathy. “You don’t get along with your folks?”
Mari sighed. “No, I do. It’s just…they’re so…conservative. They’re all about rules and expectations and doing everything in a particular way, whereas I’m more of a free spirit, I guess. I’m kind of the odd one out in my family. I’ve never totally fit in with them.”
“I know what you mean.” With a faraway look, he raked a hand through his hair, drawing Mari’s attention to his perfectly defined biceps. Then he snapped out of whatever reverie he’d gotten lost in. “Shit, we got off topic again. So, the bus terminal? Let me check my phone and Google where the nearest station is.”
“You sure you don’t mind giving me a ride? I could always wait around for the tow-truck dude.”
Something flickered in his eyes.
Was that a flash of heat?
Mari’s cheeks warmed. Nah, she was imagining it. He definitely hadn’t looked aroused by the word ride.
She was, though. Uh-huh, she was certainly aroused. Her nipples strained beneath her bra, and her core clenched as she met Austin’s moss-green eyes. She’d never met anyone with eyes that shade of green. Dark and earthy and utterly hypnotic.
“I don’t mind at all,” he said slowly.
Their gazes connected. Mari’s cheeks scorched even more.
She forced herself to break the eye contact. “Let me grab my stuff then. I’ll call the tow company on the way and tell them to take the lemon straight to the junkyard instead of a garage.”
“Good plan.”
It didn’t take long to empty out the Toyota—she’d only brought a small duffel and a backpack for the five-hour drive, and the rest of her belongings were being shipped from Chicago. As she followed Austin toward his SUV, she rummaged around in the front pocket of her backpack until she found her phone.
“Mind posing for a picture?” she asked her dark-haired hottie.
As he stopped to look at her, she raised the phone and snapped a shot of his perplexed face before he could respond, which brought another grin to his lips.