A sudden loss of power startled me, and I grabbed the steering wheel tighter as if that might urge the car on. Instead, it rolled to a complete stop, and the annoying light-up picture of a gas pump flashed on my otherwise dark dashboard. “Damnit.” If I hadn’t missed the turnoff, I would’ve made it.
Through my dusty windshield, I looked around at my surroundings but could only see eerie shadows that were just a few shades darker than the night itself. I didn’t need to know much about to Montana to know that the forest landscape was home to large, carnivorous type beasts with white fangs and an unquenchable hankering for soft flesh. And a very lengthy and, in my eight-year-old opinion, impressive report on bears in the third grade had made me somewhat of an expert on them. They were working on layers of fat for hibernation, and eating flesh was really good for that.
The car wasn’t going to spontaneously refill its tank, and I was damn tired and getting colder by the second. I had to walk home. I reached for my purse and was blinded by two headlights as they highlighted the condensation on my front windshield. I shaded my eyes with my hand. The truck pulled over to the side of the road and an extremely large figure stepped out. Chainsaw murderers hadn’t been on my mental list of carnivores, but they were now at the top.
The figure approached, and I quickly reached up to make sure the door was locked. I groped blindly for my purse to see if my phone was near and if I had anything that could act as a weapon. I came up with a fistful of complimentary chocolates that had melted, morphed and cooled into one sticky mass.
The truck’s headlights glared harshly at my eyes, making it hard to see the figure as he approached. I could only assume from the immense size that it was a man, but oh how I wished it was Francine Buckley from high school. She was six-foot-three and had to turn her shoulders sideways to fit through the science room door, but at least I knew she wasn’t an ax-murderer.
The figure leaned over and a face peered in through the window. I held my breath and forced myself to turn toward it. It was the whiskey-soaked guy from the restaurant. He’d apparently managed to peel himself away from his bevy of female admirers. Unless, of course, they were all in his truck.
I rolled down the window. His pale blue gaze made me suck in a breath again, but I had no idea why. “Hello,” I said with far less confidence than I’d spoken with at the Raven’s Nest. “Gage, right? Thought you might be a bear.”
“Driving a truck?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “It’s Montana. I thought maybe your bears were a little more acclimated to living up here, and trucks do seem to be the main mode of transportation.”
“Nah, most of the bears prefer motorcycles. Makes them look tougher.” He looked at me. There was no way I could deny that his nearness rattled me. “So, what are you doing out here, Hollywood?”
“Just sightseeing. And yourself?”
“Well, I was headed home, but then I saw this strange little car sitting on the road and thought maybe somebody had just dumped it.”
I sighed. “If you must know, I ran out of gas.”
He looked up the road and then turned back to me. “What are you doing this far down the highway?”
“You ask a lot of questions. I missed the turnoff and then I ran out of gas.”
He straightened, and I sucked in yet another breath. This time he caught my stupidly dramatic reaction.
“You all right?” he asked.
“Yeah, I’m fine. You’re just really big up close. I guess I only saw you sitting in the booth…oh, except for when you were dragging furniture around the restaurant.” For a brief second, my mind drifted to visions of just what he’d done with that chair, and they were visions that, for some stupid reason, made my pulse race.
“It’s only a mile, so I think I can push you there. It’s dark enough out here that if you leave the car on the road, it might get smashed. I can bring some gasoline up to your place tomorrow morning.”
“But it’s uphill to the house.”
He leaned his face down into the window again and stared at me for a long moment before speaking. “Then I guess it’s a good thing I’m really big. The grade isn’t very steep. Turn the key on and put it in neutral.”
“Right.”
His massive silhouette filled the back window as he stepped behind the car. I sat up straight and held my hands at ten and two, just like my high school driver’s education teacher had taught me, and waited anxiously as if the car would shoot off like a rocket. The grit on the road crackled under the tires as the car rolled forward at a pace that I could easily have outdone crawling on my hands and knees. I turned the wheel to pull away from the side of the road. It barely moved, as if I no longer had control of the steering. My instinct was to throw on my brakes. Something thudded against the car. A deep groan followed.
My human car motor walked up to the window and leaned down with a decidedly less helpful expression. “You braked.”
“Yes, I’m sorry. I couldn’t move the steering wheel, and it freaked me out.”
“The power steering isn’t on, so it’s a lot harder to turn.” He glanced at the side of my car. “With this car, I would have thought you’d have done this kind of thing a lot.”
“No. Back in the civilized world, we just call a tow truck. And my little car is not that bad. It’s taken me a lot of places.”
“In the civilized world.”
He rolled his sleeves up exposing two thick, iron hard forearms, and this time my mind drifted to what the rest of those arms might look like. I shook the silly musings from my head.
“I’m going to try again.” He leaned down into the window, and every time he lowered his face to mine, I had the same ‘temporarily forgot how to breathe’ reaction. “No braking.”
“Right.” I positioned myself again.
Once again, my massively built rescuer managed to get my dead car rolling up the incline. Once the momentum increased, the car rolled faster. I kept my eyes peeled for the turnoff, which was really just a swath of dirt cleared of grass and layered with gravel. I could see the metal roof of my house from the road. I pulled hard and turned the car. The steep downhill grade caused the car to roll much faster. The burst of speed startled me, and again, stupidly, I put on my brakes.
Gage put his hands on his hips as my red brake lights illuminated the irritation on his face. I leaned my head out of the window. “Sorry, I panicked again. I think I can just roll home from here. Thanks a lot.” I took my foot off the brake and quickly discovered that without the original momentum, or the big guy pushing, the roll home was going to be at a snail’s pace. I startled as the car lurched forward with a big shove. My gasless car and I rolled down the long driveway to the house. I pulled the brake on and stuck it back in park.
Gage came down the path behind me and caught up quickly with his long strides.
I got out of the car. I felt like a little kid standing next to him. “Thank you very much for pushing my car here.”
“I can bring my gas can over in the morning. It’ll be enough to get you down the hill to the station.”
“That’s really nice of you. Well—” I looked toward the house and realized it was pitch dark inside. “I guess I should’ve left the light on. When it gets dark here, it’s not messing around. I can barely see ten feet in front of me.”
“It’s not as bad when there’s a moon and clear skies. Do you want me to walk inside with you? Just ‘til you get the lights on.”
I stared up at the man who could probably break me in two with one hand tied behind his back. He seemed to understand my hesitation.
“Summer,” he said, “I knew your grandfather well. You’re safe with me.”
I waved my hand as if to say his assumption had been wrong. “No, of course, I know. And, yes, if you wouldn’t mind.”
I’d already memorized where the loose boards on the porch steps were and successfully avoided them, but neglected to mention them to my oversized car pusher. He hopped off the step before the en
tire thing gave way and stared down at the wobbly board. “I can fix that for you.” He took another step.
“Wait!” I said. “That one’s loose too.”
One long step took him over the rest of the stairs to the porch. I rattled the key for several seconds before it turned. The chill from outside had not been stopped by the walls or windows. I shivered as I felt along the cold plaster wall and flicked on the light. The two boxes that basically held my entire life, still sat in the center of the room where I’d left them.
“I haven’t unpacked yet.” I turned around and blinked several times in wonder. It wasn’t just the man’s sheer size that made him so imposing, it was everything about him. He was one gigantic, intense and unquestionably handsome man. He seemed to be suppressing a grin as if he knew what I was thinking. Apparently, I’d forgotten to include arrogant in my mental description.
He walked over to the thermostat and pressed a few buttons. The dull roar of the heater rolled through the room, and dusty-smelling heat came swirling down from the vents.
“I hadn’t figured out how to turn that on yet,” I confessed, slightly embarrassed at my utter lack of survival skills.
“Must have been cold at night.”
“Grandpa had a nice supply of blankets, and I’ve been wearing sweats to bed…and double socks…and a knitted beanie. It’s all quite sexy when you see the whole ensemble together.”
He laughed. It was short and deep and exactly how I’d expected it to sound.
The small room was heating up fast. “I’d offer you something, but I’m afraid all I have is some kiwi yogurt and crackers.” I struggled to pull off my sweatshirt, and he politely stepped forward to hold my shirt down.
“Thanks again.”
Unexpectedly, he reached up and lightly touched the tattoo that ran along the top of my shoulder, which was now exposed by the loose cut of my shirt. His two calloused fingertips ran along the ink as if he needed them to read the words. “Never stop singing.”
I hadn’t realized just how profound my reaction to his touch had been until he read the words, and it took me a second to figure out what he was talking about. I glanced back at him. He lowered his fingers, but took his time doing so.
“That fits you.” He glanced toward the front door and then back at me. “By the way, while our bears aren’t quite tame enough to ride motorcycles, they aren’t at all afraid to come up to a house to look for food.”
“So don’t go out on the porch to pet them?”
His eyes changed colors constantly. At the moment, looking out from his suntanned, slightly unshaven face, they were an unearthly blue. “You don’t take anything too seriously, do you?”
“I’ve found that when I take life seriously, it turns out to be sharply disappointing.” My gaze dropped, and my eyes ached with unbidden thoughts from the last few weeks. I swallowed hard and looked up at him. He was listening. And that felt strange to me. Logan was always a terrible listener, and my mom was always listening to her own thoughts whenever I was laying something heavy out to her. But the man in front of me seemed to be genuinely listening. “I came out here because some ugly stuff happened, stuff I don’t like to think about.
Again, unexpectedly, he reached up and ran his thumb over my cheek. The bruise from the mug had been an ugly greenish-black for days. But it had faded to a pale yellow, and so I’d stopped covering it with makeup. There was a flicker of emotion that seemed like anger in his eyes.
He lowered his hand. Even though his touch had been feather-light, I could still feel it on my skin.
“It was an accident,” I said quickly and smiled. “Believe it or not, that bruise was the least awful event of the day.”
His gaze lingered on my face just long enough for me to have to look shyly away.
“I’m sorry if I screwed up your plans to buy the restaurant.” The apology came out before I remembered Rita’s warning not to say anything. I covered my mouth. “Oh my gosh, Rita told me not to mention it.”
He nodded. “Rita, should’ve known.”
“Don’t say anything to her, please. I’m working hard to gain her trust and friendship, and this was an accidental betrayal. I’m such a blabber mouth.”
He nodded again. “It’s for the best. I’ve still got logging and breaking horses. Running the restaurant is probably just a little too tame anyhow.”
I huffed before I could stop myself. The man had, after all, just pushed my car home. But I’d huffed anyhow. “There isn’t anything tame about it. If you think running that restaurant is any easier than sawing down trees or breaking—” I looked at him. “What did you say you break?”
“Horses.”
“Breaking horses—” I stopped and thought about that. “You break them?”
“Not literally, just so they don’t buck you off when you sit on them. And, before you go on, you should come spend a day in my boots too. I think you’ll find that the restaurant business is a lot less deadly. But I wasn’t implying that the job you have in front of you will be easy. That place has lost a lot of business in the past months. It’s going to take a lot of good decisions and patience to bring it back.”
He turned to leave and then glanced over his shoulder at me. “I wish you luck.”
I nodded feeling rather contrite for belittling his job, which was no doubt fraught with danger.
“I’ll see you in the morning.” He went to the door.
“Thanks again, Gage.”
“Yep.” He opened the door. “And remember, no petting the bears.”
chapter 10
Gage
My skull pounded from too many whiskey shots and a long week on the job. I pressed my forearm against my head to temper it, but it didn’t help. Rake had stretched out next to me and his paws and nose twitched with a dog dream, one most likely involving a squirrel. With no more room on the mattress, Ranger had been forced to suck it up on the dog pillow in the front room.
The front door opened and shut and Brock’s truck started. The tires crunched gravel as he headed home. He lived down the road and was thankful for the job I gave him taking care of the dogs and horses whenever I had long days or weeks away from home. His dad was an asshole, who only seemed to spend his day letting Brock know what a loser he was. The kid was anything but. He was a good student, and he did a great job taking care of the animals. He was working toward a baseball scholarship, so he could go to a university far away from his idiot dad. In the meantime, I paid him generously to let him know how much I valued his help.
One of the horses whinnied from the barn. I’d slept past feeding time, and they were getting antsy. There was hardly any grass left in the pastures, and I had to supplement their diets with hay and grain. Angel’s massive Shire horse, Chance, ate like three horses, but he was nice to have around. He had a calming influence on the others, and wildlife was afraid of him. One evening at dusk, I’d seen two yellow eyes glowing through the wires of the pasture. By the wide set of the eyes, it was easy to see that it was a wolf, and a large one. The other horses had grown agitated, but Chance had reared up and let out a shrieking whinny that sent every bird from its evening perch. The wolf ran off, and I hadn’t seen it since.
Thinking about the wolf reminded me of the girl, Summer, a fitting name, and one that just added to the idea that Montana was completely wrong for her. Even her car was out of place here. But she was a treat to the eyes, and she had a personality that could definitely kick up some life around here. But she didn’t have a chance. Or maybe that was wishful thinking. I still held onto hope that the Raven’s Nest would be mine someday.
I swept my legs off the bed. Rake barely lifted his head to see what the commotion was about before returning to his squirrel dreams. A shower and some cereal helped quiet the clanking in my head. I fed the horses and walked to the shed for the gas can. The dirt bikes were once again collecting cobwebs. Luke had hid out at the ranch with Angel and Jericho, another member of the motorcycle club, who’d ended up on the pre
sident’s shit list. Jericho was a cool kid and I’d even let him know when an entry level logging job had opened up. He had no family, and his only job experience had been whatever shady gigs the club had for him. After some thought, Jericho had decided to head back to the club life. It was all he knew and it was what he’d grown up with, so it was hard to blame him. While they stayed here, Luke and Jericho had tuned up the dirt bikes and gone riding on the homemade track we’d built on the east side of the ranch. Even with an injured leg, Jericho had been fast, real fast. The only other guy I knew who could ride as well was my brother, Seth. Although Jericho’s skills were smarter. He thought about what he was doing out there. Seth just raced like he did everything else, with hair on fire, and visions of immortality. Seth was the type of guy who’d worry about his balls only after something happened to them. While I was up on the mountain ducking away from the bight of the line and avoiding falling logs and chainsaws, Seth was doing his job with a welder in his hand and twenty feet of ocean water above him. He’d be visiting in a week, and I looked forward to some company. And since there was now an open challenge for Seth and Jericho to race, I was hoping I could coax Jericho away from his club for a few days too.
I grabbed up the gas can and carried it out of the shed. Ranger barked twice at something on the road. His tail spun like a tornado, and he jumped off the porch to greet someone.
She was wearing tight jeans that highlighted the fact that she had exceptionally long legs. Her pouty, plump lips glowed pink beneath the black sunglasses and the blue beanie pulled down over her light blonde hair. It had been tucked in a rubber band yesterday, but today it stuck out in what looked like long layers. Her only shield against the brisk morning air was the beanie and a long blue scarf she’d tossed around her neck. At least she’d had the sense to wear boots beneath the jeans.
Rake and Ranger were now both engaged in their ‘ass wiggling pleased to meet you’ dance as she stroked their heads. They were both oversized and black and, when they wanted to look it, intimidating, but she seemed completely at ease with them. I walked over to greet her with the gas can in my hand. Her smile was the type you wouldn’t soon forget.