Turn Up the Heat (3 page)

“Look, I just walked two miles in the freezing cold to get here, so I'm not really in the mood. If you can't help me figure out what's wrong with my car, that's fine. Just point me in the direction of the nearest phone and I'll be on my way.”

You've got to be kidding.
No way was Shane letting some stranger call him out like that. He didn't care
how
freaking sexy she was when she put a hand on her curvy little hip and arched her brow.

“Oh, I can figure out what's wrong with your car, I guarantee it. But if it'll make you feel better to call someone else, be my guest. Phone's in the back.” He jutted his chin toward the office, watching her mutter to herself.

“I can't believe I'm stuck in the middle of God's country with a stupid cell phone that might as well be a paperweight. Hasn't anyone ever heard of service towers out here?”

She drew in a deep breath as if she was reaching for her patience, and the swell of her chest underneath her thin, red sweater made Shane suddenly forget the chill of the wind she'd brought with her. “Okay. My car died by the side of the road, and I don't have a clue what's wrong with it. Is there somebody here who can maybe take a look and help me make arrangements to have it fixed?” Her jaw was set in fiery determination that contradicted the graceful lines of her face.

Shane shrugged. “Unless you want me, you're out of luck, Princess. Grady's is the only game in town, and as far as mechanics go, I'm it for the rest of the day,” he offered with a grin.

She opened her bow-shaped mouth to answer him, and for a second he thought she was going to turn on her heel and huff her way back out into the cold. But then she set her lips back into a stubborn line and settled for giving him a humorless smile.

“Great. Are you available to come look at it?”

Something about her dared Shane to do a little boundary-testing, even though he knew it was probably a bad idea. He worked up the most bored voice he could manage. “Let me check my schedule,” he said, without moving.

She waited about twenty seconds before crossing her arms over her chest. “If you'd prefer, I can just call someone from the city to have it towed back there. I wouldn't want to put you out.”

Shane froze. “Wait.” No matter how minor her car trouble turned out to be, they needed the business. Plus, although he'd messed with her a little bit just to get on her nerves, he didn't feel right turning her away just because she was a sassy little rich girl. Stranded was stranded, no matter how you cut it, and he knew those dealers in the city all too well. They'd rip her off six ways to Sunday, and just because she had the money to spare didn't make it right.

“Sorry, I was just giving you a hard time, that's all. I can come take a look at it. Those jack-wagons in the city will charge you by the mile for the tow alone, and you don't wanna know how much, either.”

She shifted her weight, and if Shane didn't know any better, he'd think that was relief on her pretty face. “It's a couple of miles up the road,” she said.

“Got a truck around back that'll make quick work of that.” Shane wiped his hands on the front of his jeans, noticing that it didn't really do anything to improve their appearance. “Shane Griffin.” God, her hand was so slender and delicate compared to the meat hook he'd just thrust out.

“Bellamy Blake.”

He couldn't help it. He laughed. “Your name is Bellamy?”

She stiffened. “It's French.”

Translation: highbrow and verrrrry expensive.

“Right. Well, the truck's this way.” Shane gestured to the side lot where his beat-up F150 sat, ready to go. Another gust of wind rattled the windows in their frames, and man, it was really getting nasty out.

“Okay,” Bellamy murmured without enthusiasm as she sauntered to the door and went to push it open.

He barely had his jacket all the way on when another burst of wind slammed into the building, even stronger than the last. The clean-linen smell of Bellamy's shampoo filled his nose from her sudden closeness, and before he could register what the hell was happening, she had pitched into his arms.

Bellamy was caught completely off guard by the blast of wind shoving its way into the garage with a rude hi-how-are-ya. The steel door swung on its hinges so hard that she was forced to either move out of its path or let it body check her for her trouble.

Well
that
was a no-brainer. She stumbled backward, only to be met by an immovable object that turned out to be Shane's chest.

“Look out!” He shoved his arms beneath hers in a rough yank, and she fell into him just as the door slammed against the doorstop hard enough to leave a dent.

“Oh!” Bellamy's breath exited on a hard gasp. Sharp pain streaked through her ankle, which she knew without looking must be turned at a rather unnatural angle, because it hurt like crazy.

“Jesus! Are you okay?” Shane murmured into her hair as it blew around both of their faces in the biting wind.

Bellamy's ankle sent up a chorus of
hell no
, but there was no way she was going to admit it out loud, especially not to a total stranger, and definitely especially not
this
particular stranger. “I'm fine.”

Sure. If
fine
meant clumsily tumbling into the arms of a brooding, borderline obnoxious car mechanic with the hottest smile this side of the Mason-Dixon line, then she was just peachy.

Didn't Guinness have records for weeks this bad?

“You sure?” Shane didn't loosen his grip, as if he thought she were bluffing. Which she was, but
he
didn't need to know that.

“Yeah, absolutely. You can let go. Thanks.”

“Suit yourself, city girl.” He shrugged and let her go without preamble.

Bellamy's cheeks flamed as she tested her weight on her throbbing ankle. After a few ginger steps got her through the door and into the parking lot, it looked like her pride had taken a bigger hit than anything else. What the hell else was new? She flipped the handle of the battered pickup truck and climbed inside.

“So, what kind of car do you drive?” Shane asked, getting in and starting the truck.

“A Mazda Miata.”

He shifted his weight and looked out the driver's side window so she couldn't see his expression as they pulled away from the lot, and her heart sank. Maybe the sporty convertible was out of his area of expertise.

“Is that going to be a problem?” Bellamy asked, rubbing her hands together.

Shane scoffed, flipping the heater on high. “No. They're just a pain in the ass to fix, that's all. Pardon my language.” He muttered the last part, like he was actually embarrassed he'd let the curse slip. “Can you tell me what's wrong with it?”

Bellamy looked at him blankly. “Um, it doesn't run.”

Shane's smirk-and-eyeroll maneuver translated to a glaring
Hello, Captain Obvious
. “Yeah, I got that part. I was thinking more along the lines of what happened to make it that way. Weird noises, dashboard lights, stuff like that.” He gave her a sidelong glance.

Her cheeks flooded with heat. “Oh. Well, come to think of it, it
has
been acting a little funny lately. Every once in a while it makes this grinding noise. I figured it just needed a tune-up or something.”

Again with the well-duh look. So she'd skipped a freaking tune-up. Was it really that big a deal?

“Anyway,” she continued, after biting her tongue. “Just now, a whole bunch of white smoke started coming out from under the car. It kind of jerked a little, made the noise again.” She broke off, wracking her brain. There had to be technical terms for her botched explanation, but hell if she could come up with a single one. “Then it just kept lurching forward instead of really going anywhere, even when I hit the gas, so I pulled over. That's pretty much it.”

Shane's frown was less than encouraging. “You just passing through?”

“Sort of.” God, what a mess this bright idea of hers was turning out to be. “I'm supposed to be meeting friends of mine at the Pine Mountain Resort for a long weekend.”

Wait, did he just roll his eyes again before he looked out the window? Really?

“That's only a couple of miles from here. You'll need to call someone to get a ride.”

Bellamy pulled back, frowning. “Do you think it's that bad?”

Shane's black-coffee eyes met hers for an instant. “I don't think it's good. At the very least, I'll probably have to come back with the tow truck to get it to the garage for a better look.”

She must have done something cosmically terrible to have karma bite her in the ass. First Attila the Boss, then Derek, and now this. “That's me, right there.” Bellamy pointed through the window to where she'd left her car on the narrow, muddy shoulder by the scenic overlook.

“Yeah, I figured. Not too many two-seater sports cars on the side of the road up here. Especially in January.” Shane pulled over, but not before she caught the cocky smile he tried to hide as he looked over his shoulder to check his blind spot.

Wow, his shoulders were broad.

“You coming, or do you want to wait here? I can leave the truck running if you want,” he offered without much enthusiasm.

Shit, when had he gotten out too?

“No thanks. I'd like to see what you're looking at, if that's okay with you.” Clumsiness notwithstanding, she didn't want him to think she couldn't handle herself. Her pride had suffered enough in the last twenty-four hours, thank you very much, and he already seemed to think she was some spoiled city girl. It couldn't be rocket science to keep up with a quick look-see under the hood, right?

Shane lifted a dark brow. “Suit yourself.” He stood in front of the car and hooked his thumbs through the belt loops on his jeans, waiting.

Bellamy's heart did a repeat swan dive toward her belly. What was he looking at
her
for? Didn't he know where to start?

“I'm, ah, going to need you to pop the hood so I can look at the car.”

She swallowed her full dose of
hi-I'm-an-idiot
in one hard gulp. “Oh, right!”

As soon as the car was unlocked and her butt sank into the driver's seat, Bellamy's first order of business was to clutch. Come on, she had an advanced degree in business, for God's sake! How hard could it be to pop the stupid hood? The knob, or button, or whatever, had to be here somewhere. It had to be . . .

“Aha!” Bellamy crowed under her breath, her hand shooting out for the lever marked with the little stick figure lifting the hood. She gave it a triumphant yank, smiling from ear to ear.

“Bellamy?” Shane's grin wiped the confidence from her face. He put a hand on the door frame, leaning in. “I might be just spit-balling here, but I don't think the problem's in your trunk.”

If his laugh hadn't been so deep and downright sexy, in that moment she'd have hated his guts. He and the stick figure could kiss her ass.

“Sorry, must have pulled the wrong one,” she glowered, spying the correct lever right next to the trunk release. She gave it a decisive snatch, and the hood lifted up by about an inch.

“Mmm,” Shane answered, closing the trunk before going around to look under the hood. Bellamy got out and stood next to him, watching with awe as he moved his hands over the inner workings of the car with both care and purpose. How the
hell
all of that stuff came together to create a whole bunch of get-up-and-go was totally beyond her.

Finally, she couldn't stand it anymore, though barely five minutes had passed. “How bad is it?” she asked, chewing her bottom lip.

“Go ahead and try to start it for me.”

“I don't think anything's going to happen,” she offered politely, trying to save him from wasting his time. The car had seemed in pretty bad shape when she'd pulled it over. If the damned thing was going to start up now, after all she'd just been through, she was going to be
pissed
.

“Yeah, I've done this once or twice before. Why don't you humor me and give it a whirl just for grins, city girl.”

Bellamy bit her tongue to trap the rather unladylike voice in her head threatening to tell him exactly where he could shove his
princesses
and his
city girls
. The reality was that the garage had been the only thing she'd seen for miles, and as much as she wanted to tell Shane to pound sand, it looked like the only option that wouldn't get her left by the side of the road was to humor him as he'd asked.

His expression sure suggested he could use it.

“I was only trying to help,” Bellamy muttered under her breath as she put the key in the ignition. Of course the damn thing purred right to life just to spite her.

“Okay, you can cut the engine,” Shane said, crouching down to look under the car.

“So is it fine?” Bellamy asked, confused. “I really wasn't imagining things,” she insisted, sliding out of the car.

Shane's grim expression suggested that he believed her. Bracing one hand against the fender, he reached down and swiped his fingers through a dark puddle of something seeping out from under her car in a thick, ominous stain.

“No, you really weren't.” His frown intensified as he stood, looking again at the inner workings of the car. “How long have you had this thing?”

“Um, four years. Five in June.” She leaned in to look over his shoulder.

Yup. Still broad.

“Should've known better than to hope it was still under warranty. It looks like your transmission's blown.”

Her mouth fell open. “Are you sure?”

Shane broadcast a look that all but screamed are-you-kidding-me. “Unless you have transmission fluid coming from somewhere else, yeah.”

Bellamy quickly calculated her options, realizing that she had only the one. She had to get home in a couple of days, after all. “Can you fix it?”

Shane didn't flinch. “Absolutely.”

Finally, some good news! “How much is it going to cost?”

The slight wince he gave wasn't lost on her, and he shifted where he stood. “I'd have to look up the cost for the parts, but assuming you need the whole thing replaced, trannies for these things aren't cheap. We can work something out for labor since it's going to be a longer job, but it's still going to be expensive.”

Bellamy exhaled. “Okay, can you elaborate on that a little more?” There was a difference between nice-dinner-expensive and diamond-earrings-expensive, after all. Maybe she could get away with nice-dinner car trouble, just this once.

“Parts and labor? You're probably looking at close to three grand.”

“Are you
serious
?” she yelped.

“'Fraid so. I told you they were expensive.”

“Wait.” Bellamy felt like she was on a thirty-second delay, with Shane's words taking their sugar-sweet time to sink in. “Define
longer job
. How long is this going to take, exactly?” She had the sinking feeling that the extended weekend she'd allotted for her relaxing mountain getaway wasn't what Shane had in mind.

He scrubbed a hand over the stubble on his chin. “Orders on parts have probably shipped for today since it's already after noon, which puts the next ship date as Monday. My guess is that it'll take everything three days to get here.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, but stayed silent as Shane continued.

“It's going to be another day and a half for me and Grady to put the new tranny in once we get it. Good news is I can start yanking the old one this afternoon if you want, but because of the lag time, it'll be at least next Friday before we can finish.”

“Do I have any other options here?” Bellamy managed in an unsteady voice, pinching the bridge of her nose with freezing fingers.

“Sure.”

Her head sprang up, surprise popping through her veins. “I do?”

Shane nodded, sending his black hair down over his eyes. “You can have it towed to the city, where they'll quote you a price of about four grand instead of three. You're welcome to call them to double check me, if you want. And before you ask, it'll take them just as long to get the parts. Barely anybody stocks those, so I'd bet you're still looking at about a week that way.”

Bellamy felt like a day-old party balloon. “Any other suggestions?”

“You could get a new car.”

Even better.

“I need to make a few phone calls.” Out of habit, she tapped her cell phone to life. The
no service available
message still flashed across the display, and Bellamy resisted the urge to hurl it over the guardrail. “You said I could use the phone back at the garage, right?” Frustration bubbled within her chest, filling her veins with its thick heat.

Shane nodded, and his piercing stare did nothing to make Bellamy feel less vulnerable.

“Yeah, sure.”

“I guess we can head back, then.”

As he dropped the hood back to the frame of the car with a firm bang, it was all Bellamy could do not to cry.

 

 

As soon as they got back to the garage, Shane knew right then and there he was screwed. His pickup had no sooner rolled to a stop on the gravel than Bellamy made a beeline for the office, and she hadn't been subtle about closing the door, either. Fifty bucks said she was on the phone with the Mazda dealership in the city, making plans to have her car towed even though he knew he was right about the mark-up those frickin' apes would certainly throw at her. Figured a girl like that would want the pros to work on her precious car no matter what the cost.

It would've been a royal pain in the ass to drop a new tranny in that Miata anyway, even though the money would have meant at least one more worry-free month on his loan. The business wouldn't have hurt Grady, either. Well, at least there was the upside of not having to deal with a pretentious rich girl who was too smart for her own good.