Freight Trained (2 page)

By the time she finished her appraisal, he'd already reached the counter and was handed a cup of coffee to-go.  Fascinated by him, she stared transfixed as he reached into his back pocket, pulling out his wallet, his arm muscles flexing, drawing her eyes to the powerful display.

In a blink, he turned, facing her.  He wore a cowboy hat pulled low, but their eyes still collided.  He paused mid-step, and she felt her cheeks heat, knowing she'd been caught staring.  She quickly lowered her eyes, looking sightlessly into her coffee cup.  Her heartbeat picked up speed, his eyes feeling like a heavy weight on her shoulders.  She refused to look up, barely breathing until she sensed his presence gone.

Slowly, barely lifting her head, she scanned the room, letting out a long breath when she hadn't spotted him. Her hand shook as she raised her coffee to take a sip, and she placed the cup back down quickly before she spilled.  She'd not had a lot of interaction with men.  None had caught her eye for her to make the effort and the few times men had approached her, she'd made an awkward mess of things, making her and the interested party highly uncomfortable.

But she'd never had a reaction like the one she'd just had.  Her heart had literally stopped for a few beats before pounding again with a painful, rhythmic thump that increased in speed as their eyes remained locked.  He was achingly handsome with strong features and a square jaw, sporting a few days worth of beard.  His light-brown hair was on the longer side, curling around his ears and partway down his neck and was mostly concealed by his hat.  But it was his eyes that had held her spellbound.  Unsure of their exact color from so far away, all she could tell was they were light with an outer ring of something dark.  Stunning. 

Just because she was shy, didn't mean she was blind, it simply meant she would never act on her feelings.  As in
never-ever
.  Her hands shook harder even thinking about it.  But she did wonder what it would be like, acting as one of the heroines in her books, finding true love, and living happily ever after.  Abby sighed, maybe someday.  Just not today. 

Abby watched from her spot on the porch as the moving van drove off, picking up the dirt from the road with its tires and leaving a trail of dust it in its wake.  The two men had been in and out surprisingly quick.  Well, maybe not too surprisingly as they had only fourteen boxes to unload.  Living with her parents, she hadn't acquired many belongings, and the belongings she did have were mostly books, clothes, and a small shoe store worth of shoes. 

She went back inside to take a tour of her new home.  After spending nearly twelve hours in the car, she'd been too exhausted upon her arrival to do much more than pull her sleeping bag from the car and crash on the first available bed she'd encountered.  Looking around now, she saw there was a lot to be done.  Sheets covered the large pieces of furniture, but dust and grime had accumulated on all exposed surfaces from the ten years of vacancy. 

The lawyer that came to their home six months ago
—
to inform them of her grandmother's passing and Abby's subsequent inheritance
—
explained that her grandmother had been in a care facility the last years of her life.  And while her grandmother had made sure the house received general maintenance in her absence, it was obvious no one had bothered to clean the inside.

The house was relatively small compared to the amount of property it sat on.  Two bedroom, one bath, open-plan living room, segueing into a decent sized kitchen, which was nice because Abby loved to cook.  She didn't mind the small space, it would be just her living there, and she didn't take up much room.  Besides, she found it rather cozy.

First up, she needed to do a thorough inspection of the house.  Namely, figure out how to turn the water on.  She'd had a rude awakening this morning when she turned on the bathroom faucet in preparation of brushing her teeth only to find no water flowing forth.  Fortunately, she had a few bottles (okay a case) of water in the car, so she had enough to brush her teeth and partially fill the toilet tank enabling her to flush.  Knowing that had been a one-shot deal, now spurred her incentive to find her water source.

Twenty minutes later she admitted defeat.  A) She knew nothing about well-water systems and how they worked so, B) she didn't know what the heck she was looking for.  Something water-turn-on-ish, maybe? 

Not knowing who to call in a water crisis situation and not having any friends or acquaintances in town to ask, she decided her best bet of finding help would be to head back to the Chuck Wagon.  She was sure the diner was the hub of the town, hosting a wealth of information.

After making a few awkwardly polite inquiries at the diner, Abby was informed that Rich
—
no last name was given
—
was the go-to guy to call for all water repair needs.  Armed with his phone number, she hoped like heck that he answered his phone on Sundays because the thought of going the rest of the weekend without water was not a happy one. 

Leaning against the fender of her car, Abby dialed Rich's number, keeping her fingers crossed as she listened to it ring.  Just when she was about to lose hope, he answered and after a few minutes of babbling her woes, he agreed to meet her at her place in an hour.  Perfect, just enough time to get some groceries and cleaning supplies.

"Okay, I've got you up and running," Rich said, as he stomped up her porch steps.  He was a big guy, big everywhere, and she was sure his stomping was his usual gait and not that he was upset.  He was almost as wide as he was tall, wearing a pair of overalls that stretched tightly across his stomach.  Abby gave the overalls her seal of approval, glad they prevented her from experiencing the whole "plumber's crack" phenomenon.

When he'd first arrived, she'd instantly felt comfortable in his presence, which was rather surprising.  He reminded her of a big teddy bear, and none of her usual "meeting new people" jitters had risen to the surface.

Abby gave him a grateful smile as she handed him a bottle of water.  "That's wonderful news.  How much do I owe you?"

He took a long drink, polishing off more than half before saying, "It was relatively easy, and no parts were needed.  Think twenty-five should cover it."

Abby's eyes stretched wide in disbelief.  "Dollars?" she shouted, thinking it would be a lot more.  Back in L.A., you couldn't get a plumber to show up for less than a hundred bucks, let alone on a Sunday.  And she should know, she'd heard her dad bitch about it enough when they needed to change out all the old pipes in their house a few years ago.

Rich frowned, and she quickly said, "Sorry, I didn't mean to yell at you.  I just thought it would cost more."

His face cleared, and he smiled.  "Well, like I said, I didn't need to order any parts."

"Yes, but it's a Sunday."

He chuckled.  "Aren't you supposed to be haggling down 'stead of up?"

Abby chuckled with him before going into the house to find her purse.  She scrounged around in her wallet, finding all the cash she had on hand.  It was only forty bucks, but it would have to do.

Rich's frown returned as he looked down at the money Abby held out to him.  "I don't have change."

"Please keep it all.  I wish it were more."

"That's really nice, ma'am, but it was really no big deal.  Just cleaned out a pipe and turned a knob."

"And I'm grateful for that.  I now have running water."  The sun flashed on the band of gold around his ring finger.  "Buy something for your wife on your way home as a thank you from me for pulling you away on a Sunday," she said, with an encouraging smile. 

In the end, she'd persuaded him to take the money.  After he stomped down the porch steps and got in his truck, he gave her a smile and a wave before taking off.  Abby raised her arm and waved back.  For the first time, feeling a part of her new home.   

Chapter Three

Abby pulled her head out of the oven.  She kept hearing a scratching noise that sounded as if it came from the roof.  She was on day three of housecleaning and had made quite a lot of progress.  Now instead of dust and must, her home smelled of lemony freshness.  So far, the oven had been her biggest challenge, looking as if it were covered in twenty years of grime.  Guess her grandma had never heard of Easy-Off.

She heard the scratching again and knew the noise would bother her unless she discovered the source.  Throwing down the sponge and peeling off her rubber gloves, she took a moment to quietly listen.  It sounded as if the noise came from the fireplace.  Abby hoped it was a branch knocking against something, but she didn't remember seeing any trees on that side of the house. 

She stuck her head in the fireplace and looked up, but it was too dark to see anything.  The noise was a bit louder here, although, it didn't sound like it was coming from inside the chimney.  She didn't have a flashlight, at least she didn't think she did.  She hadn't come across one while cleaning.  Remembering she had a flashlight app on her phone, she retrieved it from the back pocket of her jean shorts, clicked on the app, and aimed the light up the chimney.  The weak app light didn't reach far, she couldn't see toward the top, but what she could see looked free of debris.

Okay, plan B, she needed to look on the roof.  She went out front and looked up, but couldn't see far enough back, she was too short, and the angle was off.  Putting her brain to use, she remembered seeing a shed out back and hoped it contained a ladder. 

She hadn't had a chance to explore her backyard yet and to be frank, she hadn't missed much.  Mostly dirt, no flowers, a couple of bushes close to the house but the rest, barren as far as the eye could see.  She honestly didn't know how much of the land was her actual property and wouldn't know what to do with it even if she did.

The shed was big, white, and made from some kind of metal material.  Fortunately, the doors weren't locked, but she did have a bit of a struggle sliding them open, and they made some god-awful screeching noise as she pried them apart.  The shed was large enough to step inside even with the overabundance of tools and supplies
—
half of which she couldn't even name
—
filling it.  She scanned the dim interior, spotting what looked to be a six-foot ladder, leaning against the back wall.

Her actions at this point were most likely comical to the outside observer, struggling to maneuver the ladder out of the shed then awkwardly half-carrying-half-dragging it around to the front of the house before positioning it under the lowest point of the roof.  There was still a good four-foot gap between the top of the ladder and the edge of the eave.  She figured the edge would hit her about waist level if she stood at the top of the ladder on her tiptoes and could then pull herself up.

That was the plan, at least.  What actually happened...

Abby started her climb up the ladder.  She wasn't usually afraid of heights, but being on uneven ground made the ladder a little wobbly, and she felt her heartbeat pick up speed the higher she climbed.  When she reached the second to the last step, she was high enough to grab the edge of the roof.  Feeling more secure, she took the last few steps up and with a little bounce, hoisted herself so her top half lay flat while her legs dangled, bent at the waist. 

Then she heard a loud crash and didn't need to look to know the ladder had fallen.  With a sigh, she dropped her forehead to the roof, wondering how in the heck she was going to get down.  And it was while she pondered this dilemma, her arms growing sore from supporting her weight, that she felt a hand grab her ankle.

* * * * *

"What the fuck?"  Cole applied the breaks as he neared the O'Neal spread.  His new neighbor hung, ass in the air
—
and what a very fine ass it was
—
off the side of her roof.  He hadn't had the pleasure of seeing the backside of Abigail O'Neal when he'd laid eyes on her for the first time, sitting in the diner the other morning.  But the front side of her had been enough to stop him in his tracks.  Being a small town, it didn't take him long to find out the name of his mystery woman, or the fact that she'd been hired on as a new schoolteacher and moved into the O'Neal spread. 

It also didn't take him long to figure out he should stay the fuck away from her.  With her reddened cheeks and downcast eyes, screaming her innocence, an asshole like him had no business going near her.  He'd planned to keep his distance to a few neighborly "hellos" now and again.  Yeah, that
had
been the plan until he'd spied her perfect ass on display encased in a pair of tight jean shorts.  Then his dick took over the show.  See?  Asshole. 

He stopped his truck and got out just as the ladder crashed to the ground.  The devil on his shoulder grinned as he looked up at Abigail, knowing she was completely trapped and totally at his mercy, and Cole grinned along with him also liking that,
a lot
.  He advanced to her quickly, not knowing whether it was fear of her falling or the thought of laying his hands on her that rushed his steps.  Most likely the latter, but he wasn't one to dwell on any of his many character flaws.  He was what he was and had made peace with that years ago. 

He felt her stiffen at his touch, but she didn't cry out in alarm.  She tried to look over her shoulder more than likely to see who had grabbed her, but she couldn't get a glimpse of him without losing her balance.  He expected her to say something, ask for help or at the very least, ask who the fuck he was, but she remained silent.  And so did he.