by Juanita Kees
Overdrive
A Calhoun Custom Garage Romance
Juanita Kees
Overdrive
Copyright © 2018 Juanita Kees
EPUB Edition
The Tule Publishing Group, LLC
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
First Publication by Tule Publishing Group 2018
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
ISBN: 978-1-949068-39-9
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Dedication
For my beautiful, faithful, furry friend, Sam, who kept me company throughout this book—until writing The End—before crossing the rainbow bridge. You’re in my heart forever.
Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Acknowledgements
Author’s Note
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
About Book 2: Fast Lane
Calhoun Custom Garage Series
About the Author
Acknowledgements
They say it takes a village to raise a child. The same could be said for a book-baby. Where would I be without my tribe?
Firstly, thank you to the team at Tule Publishing for taking on this series. The care and support I received during edits was truly heart-warming. The covers are stunning, thank you, cover fairies. What Tule achieves is amazing and I’m proud to be a part of it.
Secondly, a very big thank you and a huge hug for Ann B Harrison whose encouragement and support has been consistent throughout my writing journey. Thank you for believing I could bring the Calhouns and their garage to life.
PJ, thank you for the advice and pointing me in the right direction when I couldn’t see the forest for the trees.
Kerrie and Lily, the two of you rock feedback and I love you both.
Lastly, to my critique group: Anna, Susy, Claire and Teena, thank you for loving the Calhouns. Lorraine, we miss you. Please come home.
Not forgetting my family who support me all the way. Without you, dinner would never reach the table and my tea would always be cold.
Dear Reader,
Thank you for visiting Calhoun Customs Garage. I hope you enjoyed Chase and Charlie’s story. The most important thing in an author’s journey to the next book is feedback from our readers, so please do leave a review. It would be valuable and appreciated.
I am a huge NASCAR and V8 Racing fan, so research for this story was so much fun. Any errors in the portrayal of the industry, racing rules and terminology are my own. The characters are completely fictional, although I wish a few of them were real!
If you’d like to keep up to date with what’s next at Calhoun Customs Garage, please visit my website or sign up for my newsletter. I respect your privacy, and with that in mind, only issue about four newsletters per year.
Thank you for your company and I hope to see you back soon for book 2, Fast Lane.
Regards, Juanita
Chapter One
Chase tossed the doctor’s report onto the scarred Formica table and turned to the view of Bigfork Bay—a sight that soothed his scattered thoughts and calmed the edginess growing in his belly. It hurt too much to think about his dad being diagnosed with Parkinson’s. A disease that would steal his mobility, his independence and creativity, and the dream they’d built together at Calhoun Customs Garage.
As if life hadn’t stolen enough from the Calhouns, Chase would have to bring home his siblings to more bad news. None of them had ever given thought to their father’s mortality. Not Marty Calhoun, larger than life, tougher than nails, with a heart full of love for his children.
Chase lifted the carton of milk from the refrigerator and tested its weight. Mason had drunk all the damn milk again. And where was the sandwich Chase had left on the top shelf last night?
He walked out of the small kitchen into the garage. “Hey, Dad. Your coffee will have to be a while. Mason drank all the milk. I’ll need to go over to Molly’s to buy more.”
Marty chuckled. His hand shook a little on the wrench clenched in his palm. He rested his forearm on the fender of the ’57 Chevy they were restoring for use on the ranch. “A growing boy needs calcium.”
“He’s twenty-nine. Shouldn’t he be done growing by now?” Chase leaned on the opposite fender with a grin, ducking his head under the hood. “She’s a beauty.”
“She will be when she’s done.” His father sighed. “Not sure my hand will be steady enough to do the artwork Carter wants. Any response to that advertisement in the paper for a graphics artist?”
Chase pushed aside a stab of sadness. His dad would take the loss of his art hard. Harder than not being able to lift a wrench anymore. “No takers.”
“Have you spoken to your sister about coming home at the end of the NASCAR season?”
“Not yet, Dad. I’m going to FaceTime her over coffee. Will you be okay here on your own? I won’t be long, and Mason should be in as soon as he’s helped Carter with the horses at the ranch.”
Marty snorted. “I’m not darn useless yet, boy.”
Chase grinned and gripped his father’s shoulder, secure in knowing his dad would fight this disease with every ounce of his iron will. With the same spirit he’d fought for everything in his lifetime. “I’ll be back soon.”
He walked through into the showroom, his eye on the Montana sky outside the windows. The white-capped Swan Range Mountains soared above the river that snaked its way around the town, edged by the hectic colors of fall. Sunlight reflected off the bay where a group of boys fished off the dock.
Pushing through the side door, he crossed the road to Molly’s Old Time Five and Dime. The thought of Molly made him smile. Everyone had told her it was time for a name change, that five and dime stores were a thing of the past. But Molly, fourth generation owner of the store she’d inherited from her father, had pretty much told them all to mind their own business. It’s always been a five and dime and that’s what it’ll stay.
He opened the door and held it so Mrs. Thomas, bundled up in a warm coat and colorful scarf, could slip inside ahead of him. He closed it behind him, cutting off the icy blast of air blowing straight down the mountains.
A handful of customers wandered the aisles as he picked up a quart of milk from the double-door refrigerator and made his way to the checkout. Ahead of him, a young woman soothed a baby snug in a wrap-type carrier thing with straps over her shoulders and tied around her waist, kinda like a backpack for babies except in front.
“That’ll be ten dollars, please, honey.” Molly held out her hand and peered into the wrap. “How old is the baby?”
“They’re adorable when they’re so young. Every day there’s something new they discover.” Molly smiled warmly.
“So true.” The young woman searched the carryall and pulled out her wallet to pay.
Her fingers hovered over a credit card before she selected cash instead. Chase shifted his feet and looked over her shoulder to see what she’d bought. A packet of Molly’s homemade chocolate chip cookies. A pint of milk and a newspaper. A bar of soap, a travel-sized pack of laundry detergent and a can of beans.
He looked at her. A long blonde braid snaked over her shoulder. He caught the scent of a pleasant perfume as she turned to look at him apologetically. About twenty-five, green eyes with a hint of attitude touched by tired. Her captivating eyes widened in surprise as they met his before her glance quickly shifted back to the goods on the counter and she moved a step or two away. Not the reaction he was used to from women, even ones with babies, which fascinated him even more.
The baby fussed, and the woman hushed it as she handed a twenty-dollar bill over to Molly.
Molly took the cash and rung it up. The cash register dinged as the drawer released and she selected the change. “You new in town, honey?”
Green Eyes rocked on the balls of her feet, eager to leave. What had he done to make her nervous? “Yeah, just arrived.”
“Well, welcome to Bigfork. Where are you staying?”
“I … I have a reservation over at the Swan Inn.” She stashed the change, dropped her wallet in the carryall and gathered the baby closer to her in the carrier. “I’ve got to go, sorry.”
He could almost taste her sudden need to get away. Skittish. As if staying in one spot too long had consequences and Molly’s questions were making her nervous. A woman alone, new in town with a small baby, clearly a little on edge. Something about her didn’t quite add up. Not when the Swan Inn was closed for renovations because of a recently burst water main. He was intrigued enough to delay her escape, his inner warning system on alert.
Chase narrowed his eyes and studied her profile. “It’s cold out there. Maybe you should add one of Molly’s famous hot chocolates to your order.”
She looked at his boots instead of his face. “Maybe another time.”
He rocked back on his heels, trying to keep it casual. “No time like now.”
Her green gaze slammed into his, the message in them clear. Back off. Regardless of her warning, he couldn’t deny the attraction that tugged at his senses. Pretty would be too tame a word to describe her alabaster skin and Nordic beauty. Stunning would be admitting his knees had lost the power to hold him up. And he had no hope of denying she stole his breath away, because it took him a couple of heartbeats to find his words.
“Cookies aren’t enough for breakfast. Why don’t you try one of Molly’s famous breakfast muffins too? My treat.”
Her chin went up, a stubborn lift that made him want to take it between his forefinger and thumb and study the lips she’d pulled into a firm line.
“Okay. Thank you.” Her nonchalant shrug contradicted the urgent tap of her foot.
Molly dropped the items into a packet and added the muffin. “Here you go, honey. Caramel and banana. My favorite.”
“Thank you.” The woman hitched the carryall up over her shoulder with one hand and patted the baby with the other. She turned the full power of her gaze and a strained smile on Chase. “And thank you.”
His gut tightened in harmony with another part of his anatomy which had no business reacting to a woman with a baby. Then she walked away, leaving him feeling like he’d been Tasered by Sheriff Hutchins, and with an itchy feeling in his gut.
“That was a very sweet thing to do, Chase Calhoun.” A smile lifted Molly’s lips, wrinkling her already wrinkled face further, her nod making the pompoms on her knitted beanie jiggle.
Heat crept up his neck to warm his cheeks. “Yeah. Well…” Something about her had him wanting to follow her out the door and ask more questions. Something that shouted fish-out-of-water.
Molly frowned as she added his quart of milk to the register and held out her hand for payment. “I thought George closed the inn?”
He counted the cash out onto her palm before answering, “Same. Maybe he kept a couple of the undamaged rooms open. I might give him a call to ask.” If the place was damp, it might not be the best place for Green Eyes and her baby to stay. His gaze strayed to the window and the view beyond it.
“Hmmm.” Molly dropped the coins into the cash register and closed the drawer.
He looked at her. “What does ‘hmmm’ mean exactly, Miss Molly?”
She looked back at him over the top of her purple-framed glasses and smiled. “I haven’t seen you look at a girl like that in a long time.”
“A man can look as long as he doesn’t touch. Touching can get a man into an awful lot of trouble. Wrap it up, sweetheart, or Dad will be cranky by the time I get back.” He leaned forward and kissed her cheek with affection.
Molly had been like a grandmother to the Calhoun tribe, keeping them all in line when they’d tested their father’s patience. And with their mom gone, they’d needed her gentle, guiding touch. A lot.
She handed him his quart of milk. “You tell him I said hello. And maybe take that girl a thermos of tea. It’ll be a while before the day warms up some.” Molly nodded at where the young woman made her way over to the grassy area near the dock. “Oh, before I forget … I thought I saw a light on over at the garage last night, when I was locking up around eleven.”
Chase frowned. Impossible. He’d checked all the lights were out and the doors locked before he’d left. And he’d activated the showroom and garage alarms. Perhaps Mason had come back to the shop after the races up at Binney Hill.
“Thanks, Molly. Where exactly?”
“Upstairs in the attic.”
Okay, now that was strange. No one went into the attic anymore. All that was up there were a ton of obsolete parts his father refused to throw away and a lifetime of sad memories that made him afraid to climb the stairs.
He shrugged. Strange things had been happening ever since Mason had come home. He’d put it all down to his brother settling back in. “Maybe it was Mason looking for something up there. You work too hard, Molly, keeping such late hours.”
Molly laughed. “What else is an old girl like me to do in this town?”
“Get some rest, go see a movie, come hang out with us at the ranch. We’d like that.” He made a note to ask his brother about his late-night monkey business, along with what had happened to his missing chicken salad sandwich. The itch that had settled in his gut shifted to between his shoulder blades. Sometimes the memories that breathed in the attic still had the power to haunt them.
*
Charlie cuddled Zoe closer as she walked the short distance to the dock where the river ran into Bigfork Bay. The early morning chill bit into her cheeks. She pulled the protective covering of Zoe’s carrier higher to cut out the wind and keep her warm. How much longer could they survive on borrowed chicken salad sandwiches and milk?
She’d not expected to find her father’s PI, Ed Sullivan on her tail so quickly. Or the job waiting for her in Kalispell to be gone. The delay in getting there due to her car breaking down in Minneapolis had not been part of her big plan either. The reason Ed had found her was because she’d had no choice but to use her credit card to rent a replacement.
She’d planned every step of this trip to the nth degree, each stop, each room, each gallon of gas, each dollar of her expenses, right down to care for Zoe in the hours while she worked. Their breakaway, hers and Zoe’s. The stand she’d had to take or remain under her father’s control and allow him to make the decisions about Zoe’s future. Adoption being at the top of that list.
Going back was not an option. Not while her father remained stubbornly inflexible. Not while she was determined to prove she had changed and could take care of her baby. For the sake of the most pr
ecious, life-changing gift ever.
So, despite the odds piling up against her, she’d kept moving. On to Bigfork. An unexpected stop on her agenda with a vacancy she could fill. Another dead end when she’d arrived to find the inn closed due to the damage from a burst pipe and the vacancy of receptionist no longer on the cards. Accommodation and a job washed away in whirlpool of water.
She cursed the choices that had driven Charlotte Jackson, NASCAR brat, out of Daytona Beach and into the wilds of Montana. All she’d wanted was to establish her independence before she had to face her father again. Instead the fates had turned the tables and she’d had no choice but to resort to desperate measures.
“He won’t succeed, Zoe. He won’t make us come home. I won’t let him take you away.”
She had to make this work, find a way around the curve ball fate had thrown her. Curve balls. She hadn’t expected to face another one in the man behind her at the checkout. Heat flushed through her. Kind, warm eyes that reminded her of blue summer skies, and a voice like smooth, top-shelf brandy. And then he’d treated her to a muffin, as if she hadn’t taken enough from him already.
But desperate times called for desperate measures and using her credit card again would only bring Ed Sullivan roaring into town, hot on the trail of her transactions. She shivered at the thought. As much as she hated what she’d had to do, it had seemed like the safest place to hide while she kept her dwindling cash supply in her pocket and her whereabouts a secret for as long as she could.
She’d felt the inexplicable pull of the attic above the Calhoun’s garage the moment she’d seen the reflection of the setting sun on the window. As if someone had whispered her name and taken her by the hand. She’d been drawn to the staircase at the back of the building that led up to a door. The door had been bolted shut with a lock on it, but she’d found a loose panel she could wiggle through.