Mustang Sassy (3 page)

One thought of the smashed Mustang and Jordan’s throat and chest constricted. He was in deep shit. The car didn’t even belong to him. It was a shop asset and it was supposed to go to auction next week. Well, not anymore. It was going to be a week if not more before the car was fixed. Not to mention the small fortune it was going to cost to do it. He just hoped to hell it was worth it. As much as it had never been his plan to see the Mustang totaled, the fact of the matter was, it did give him a legitimate excuse to find out what was going on at Hogan’s, which was the reason he was in Greenview in the first place.

Business was down at Carlyle’s. The recession could be blamed. Classic cars were a luxury, not a necessity. But, based on Jordan’s research, the slump in the economy wasn’t the primary reason for the economic hit on Carlyle’s. Turns out, car enthusiasts were willing to drive and, in most cases, tow the extra couple hours to have their restorations done by Buck Hogan and crew. Hogan’s Auto Body and Restoration
,
a rinky-dink auto body shop in the middle of Nowheresville, Colorado, had been in business going on thirty years. They’d always been a player in the industry but something had changed in recent years. They’d acquired a body specialist who was taking old frames and turning them into mint-condition, just-off-the-assembly-line classics.

It was Jordan’s mission to find out who that was and convince them to defect to Carlyle’s. Then, maybe, his family would forgive him for the fire.

He turned to the woman driving the car and said, “This is a nice car.”

“Oh, ah…thanks.”

“Is it yours?”

She appeared as if she was about to nod but instead she shook her head. A car like this, a late-sixties, rebuilt, split-window coupe, came with a hefty price tag. Employed by an auto-body shop as a receptionist—or whatever it was the girl did—Jordan doubted she could afford something like it on her wages. So, if it wasn’t hers, whose was it? Boyfriend’s?

She sure drove the coupe like she owned it, though. He watched her out of the corner of his eyes so as not to be obvious about the fact he was staring. Her little skirt rode up high and he had a view of her muscular legs. When she geared down to make a turn, he noticed how her right forearm was strong yet feminine as she gripped the pole with authority, like a professional stock-car racer.

Nice.

Jordan’s lips turned up in a grin, his mind going places it really shouldn’t considering the circumstances.

Ah, yes. The circumstances.

He let his head fall back against the seat and stared out the windshield. The same thought he’d been thinking all night hit him full in the face…again.

The Mustang was ruined.

His family was right.

He was a fuckup.

Somehow in less than twenty-four hours he’d managed to get the Mustang smashed to bits. It wasn’t the cost of repairs that made him nauseous. It was how his family would react to his latest fiasco. His brothers rolling their eyes at him, his father’s disapproving shake of his head, his mother’s expression of disappointment.

He’d seen it all before, a few too many times.

But there was no point worrying about what they’d think or do. The fact was, a totaled Mustang meant he was committed to his plan. His only option was to make the most of it.

As the sign for the truck stop whizzed by, indicating it was two miles ahead, he snuck a glance at the girl beside him, mentally rubbed his palms together, and decided it was high time to put his new plan into action. The girl was an employee at Hogan’s, a few carefully worded questions and he could have all the information he needed.

He cleared his throat. “Have you been at Hogan’s long?”

“Mmhmm.” She kept her gaze on the road ahead.

“What do you do there? Reception? Order parts?” He had to be careful. He didn’t want to let on that he knew more about the running of a shop than he should.

“Something like that.”

“I met Rodriguez last night. How long—”

“Look,” she said glancing at him and then quickly staring back at the road. “It’s my day off. I don’t really feel like talking about work.” She signaled and exited off the interstate.

Jordan clamped his jaw shut. Hell, there was plenty of time to make inquiries. With the extent of damage, the car would be sitting at Hogan’s for awhile, giving him a legitimate reason to hang around the shop. There was no sense in rushing things because obviously the girl wasn’t interested in talking and the last thing he wanted to do was create suspicion.

Moments later, she pulled the car into a truck lane and shifted into park. She sat there for a minute staring straight ahead. “You’ll have to find your own way back to Greenview.” She motioned to the trucks parked everywhere. “It shouldn’t be a problem. Anytime I’ve asked, the guys have been more than willing to help.”

“You’re not coming in?”

“No.”

Jordan laughed uneasily. If he’d known she was just going to drop him off, he would never have agreed to coming all the way out here. Somehow he didn’t think “the guys” would be as anxious to help him as they were to come to the aid of a woman who looked like her. “You know, on second thought, maybe I’ll just eat at the Inn after all.”

“I’m not going back to Greenview.”

“O-kay.” Shit. This was not going as planned. He sat for a moment before opening the door and unfolding himself from the front seat.

He wasn’t ready to give up quite yet, though. Jordan shut the door and walked around to the driver side. He tapped on the window. It took a few seconds for her to roll it down.

“You sure you don’t want breakfast? My treat?”

She didn’t look at him. “Ah…no thanks.”

What was he thinking? She probably had a boyfriend and figured he was some creep coming on to her. “Well, thanks,” Jordan said, not really meaning it.

He’d turned to go when she called, “Hey.”

“Yeah?” He bent down into the open window. She glanced up at him.

Wow. It was the first time he noticed her eyes, large and hazel with flecks of gold that lit up in the sunlight, the girl was stunning. Jordan’s fingers twitched, itching for his pencils with the urge to capture her on paper.

Before he had a chance to get lost in the unfathomable depths of her gorgeous eyes, she said, “Sorry about your car,” and then the window went up and the Corvette peeled away, spitting gravel and dust in its wake.

Jordan watched it go, both intrigued and bewildered.

Hot. Attached. Unusual. Those were the words going through his mind when he crossed the parking lot to the gas station and diner entrance. Then all thoughts of the girl evaporated as he saw a Classic Car Calendar hanging in the small entranceway. A vivid image of the Mustang, smashed and dejected, surrounded by broken glass sitting in a dark parking lot flashed through his mind’s eye.

“Restaurant’s closed,” a girl behind the counter called.

Jordan suddenly noticed the chairs set up to block the access to the deserted restaurant.

“Bugs.” The girl snapped her gum and wrinkled her nose. “Health and safety shut us down a couple of days ago.”

Jordan’s empty stomach growled despite the unappetizing thought of a bug-infested kitchen. He paid for an orange juice and a two-day-old sandwich from the cooler and went in search of a ride. It took ten minutes to locate a trucker heading in the right direction and willing to drop him off in Greenview. Well, not
in
Greenview, but at least at the exit. It was better than nothing.

He climbed up into the cab that smelled of stale cigarettes, pine air freshener, and BO. But the trucker was giving him a free ride, so Jordan couldn’t complain. However, he also couldn’t bring himself to eat amidst the unappetizing aromas, despite his hunger pangs. Instead he stared out the window watching the fields of golden wheat flow by until something up ahead at the side of the road caught his attention.

There was no mistaking the shiny red car sitting by the side of the road with a flat rear tire, and the girl with her short, short skirt and lovely long legs standing barefoot beside it, waving her arms as if to flag someone down. But who was that already with her? There was a half ton parked on the shoulder just ahead of her car and a big man in a ball cap leaning against the Corvette. As the big truck whizzed by, Jordan heard himself shout, “Stop.”

“Huh?”

“You need to stop. Pull over.”

“What’s the problem?”

“I know her.”

The driver eased the big rig to the side of the road and as soon as it stopped, Jordan jumped out. There was something about the situation that bothered Jordan. Maybe it was his old habit of saving strays coming back to haunt him—a half-frozen cat missing its left ear, a bird with a broken wing, a raccoon in a garbage can that had been used for target practice by the neighborhood kids—Jordan couldn’t help it, he had a soft spot for critters in a predicament.

And although he didn’t know the woman with the short, short skirt and the red corvette, he was pretty sure she was in a predicament.

Jogging down the shoulder of the road, Jordan only slowed when he was within ten yards. The big man’s back was to him and the woman was crouched by the side of the coupe when Jordan heard her say in an exasperated tone, “I told you, buddy. I can change a flat myself.” She waved for him to move along.

Okay, so maybe she hadn’t been flagging someone down for help as he’d first suspected, but Jordan didn’t like the way the man leaned over and said, “Well, you go ahead and try, I’ll just watch. If you need some help, I’m right—”

“I don’t need your help.”

“No, but I’m here anyway. Just watching…to make sure.” There was no mistaking the lecherous note in the dude’s voice and Jordan was glad he’d stopped.

“Hey, hon.” Jordan called as he neared. He didn’t know who seemed more surprised, the dark-haired woman who suddenly stood up, or the heavyset, bearded man.

“What—” she sputtered.

He walked around to her side and put his arm casually across her shoulders. She stiffened under his arm but Jordan didn’t let her pull away. When she turned her flushed face up to his he said, “I managed to find a phone and told your parents we’d be a little late.” He turned his attention to the guy and turned on his Carlyle smile. “Of course we forget our cell phone the day the tire blows.”

He let the woman go and kicked the flat tire. “I thought you’d have the tire changed by now. Are the lug nuts loosened?”

“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 M
OYER’S
R
ESERVOIR
S
TATE
P
ARK—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.