by Sarah Hegger
She grabbed her purse. Stepping out of the room, she surprised a middle-aged man dressed in overalls.
He took a step back when he saw her and uttered a hasty “Ma’am.”
Tiffany nodded to the man and stalked down the corridor to the room next door. She rapped sharply on the door. “I’m going to take a walk to the repair shop,” she called through the closed door.
“Like that?” Dakota spoke from almost directly behind her.
Tiffany jumped and spun around.
Hands jammed in his pockets, Dakota raked his gaze over her. “You’re wearing that to a repair shop?”
She refused to be intimidated by a seventeen-year-old. Tiffany raised her chin and stared back. Yes, she didn’t blend in with the locals, but she wasn’t a local, so there really was no problem.
The door to Thomas’s room opened behind her. His presence hit her in a warm wave. “Why don’t we drive?”
Tiffany looked down at her heels. That was probably for the best. She gave a vague nod in his direction, careful not to make eye contact, and moved toward the truck. Her nape prickled a warning that his gaze was on her. He opened her door and she smiled her thanks at his shoulder. The smell of soap on warm skin teased her as he climbed into the truck beside her.
Outside her car window, the day began in Youngtown. A young couple with a stroller and their dog raised their hands and waved. She sensed Thomas looking over at her once or twice, but she kept to her view. The whisper of sound from Dakota’s music was the only break in the silence.
The repair shop was hosting a town meeting as they drove up. About twenty men milled around the parking lot, chatting to the mechanic. The star of the show? The Miura. The car must’ve been washed because she sat there gleaming like a visiting queen, all the men clucking around her.
Tiffany opened her door and jumped down before Thomas could do the honors.
As one, the men turned to look at her. Tiffany pushed her shoulders back and glided over. “Good morning,” she greeted the gathering at large.
A bass rumble responded.
The mechanic, who had a fresh pair of overalls on for the occasion, materialized from the crowd. A shiny name tag announced his name as Corey. “The boys came on over to admire your little lady.” His gaze drifted between her and the car.
Behind him the men bobbed their heads in agreement.
“It ain’t often we see something like her in these parts.”
Again, she really hoped he was talking about the car.
More rumbling and nodding from the fan club.
Corey sidled closer. “Your man, Chuck, gave me a bell this morning. Said that radiator was on her way. He dug one up in Salt Lake, so he’s sending her on down. Should get here before I finish my lunch.”
Tiffany got an eye-watering waft of cologne. She greeted the news with a big smile and an inward wave of relief. “That’s great. Do you know how long it will take you to get it installed?”
“Shouldn’t take me long. If we get no problems from her, she’ll be done by this evening.” Corey winked at her, flashing a dazzling white smile. “Got me some help to make it go a bit faster.”
“I knew I could rely on you, Corey.” She touched his arm. A little positive reinforcement never hurt. And she was out of Youngtown that evening. Hell, yes.
Thomas whistled something beneath his teeth. It sounded a lot like Tom Jones’s “Delilah.” Smart-ass. But nothing could get her down right now. Corey would get the radiator that afternoon. She would be on the road again by tomorrow morning.
“I took a bit of a liberty this morning.” Corey sidled closer. “Seeing as she don’t like to be driven all that much. I asked Hank, over there”—a heavyset man with a handlebar moustache nodded in her direction—“if you could use his trailer. Hank’s a bit of a collector and he has one of them fancy trailers you can put this little beauty up on.”
“It would be my honor,” said Hank, his voice surprisingly high for his walrus appearance.
“Of course, we’ll rent it from you,” Thomas said. “I can drop it back when we head back to Chicago. Once we get the car to where she’s going.”
A shocked silence descended on the parking area. “You aren’t keeping her?”
Tiffany could have kicked Thomas as all the men turned to look at her with varying degrees of horror. “Unfortunately, she’s not mine.” Her chest tightened as she said the words. Long, fast rides down quiet roads were a thing of the past. “I’ve only been able to look after her for a short while.”
Corey looked at her mournfully.
“I’m really going to miss her.” Tiffany’s throat clogged. Seven years of love and money into making the Miura beautiful again. After what Tiffany had done to the beautiful old car, it seemed only fair.
“I’m sure you will.” Corey patted her shoulder awkwardly. “She sure is a thing of beauty.”
“Thank you.” She cleared her throat. Stupid getting sentimental over something that wasn’t even yours. “You’ve been great.”
Corey went all shades of red and actually looked a little misty eyed.
Thomas whistled again.
Corey shot him a frown. “That feller of yours all right?”
“He’s not my feller.” Tiffany leaned forward to confide. Aftershave hit her in waves. “And I’m not really sure what’s wrong with him.”
Dakota kicked up dust as they made their way back to the truck. “Now what?”
She stepped into the truck and waved. The entire parking area waved back. Such a nice group of men.
“We could go for a walk,” Thomas said. “The countryside around here is quite spectacular.”
“Lame.” Dakota switched his attention to his phone.
For a second she was tempted to go with Thomas. And that made the decision for her. “I have things to do.”
And those things did not include Thomas Hunter.
Chapter Fifteen
Tiffany dragged the lawn chair outside her room into the shade. The motel might not look like much, but the Wi-Fi was fast and free. Pulling out her iPad, she made notes. She dropped Ryan’s mother a quick email about wedding planners. Patti would find the very best person Illinois had to offer.
Dakota disappeared into his room, probably to make wax dolls of her and melt them.
Thomas headed off across the parking lot. The water bottle suggested a walk, as did the trainers and the hat pulled low over his eyes. It wouldn’t surprise her if he came back with an alligator in tow, wrestled into submission.
After about two hours, she’d gone through every wedding dress site she could find. Any more ivory and lace and she might lose it and run screaming across the parking lot. Somehow, nothing really appealed to her. She must’ve gone through pictures of over a thousand dresses. Some were beautiful, but she couldn’t really see herself in any of them. The models all had that look on their faces. The one that said they were living the happily-ever-after thing.
Try as she might, she couldn’t picture herself with that face. Maybe because she’d seen love’s young dream go up in flames and gotten singed in the process. Possibility two was more disturbing. The groom standing beside the glowing bride refused to take Ryan’s shape. Even worse, when he did take shape, she couldn’t get the image of Daddy standing right beside him to separate.
Heat haze shimmered over the scrubby brush on the far side of the horizon. Thomas had been gone for over two hours now. Maybe if she’d spent less time scanning the parking lot for signs of him and more time concentrating on her wedding, she might have gotten something done. At least nailed down a dress designer who appealed. She acted out of concern, nothing more. A quick bit of research on crime statistics reassured her. And made an excellent excuse not to look at the table-setting sites Ryan’s mother had sent her. Patti made a determined case for cream and black, like the royal wedding. Tiffany nearly suggested orange and green, just to mess with her.
Pamphlets from the Grand Canyon lay in the bottom of her bag. She hadn
’t input any of the information yet. Normally, she couldn’t wait to start messing with statistics, to take something and put it into numbers. The blank page stared back at her. There must be something. She flipped back a few pages to see what she’d been working on. Her scribbles ran across the page. She could finish comparing crime stats across states—that might relax her enough to stop looking for Thomas.
Dakota tramped past a little while later. Grunted something about going to get a burger and disappeared in the direction of the diner.
How much longer could Thomas take? God, he could’ve hiked back to Chicago by now. Okay, not really, but still, it was a bit irresponsible to go hiking off into the wilds of Utah when he didn’t know the area. Crime might be low, but there could be snakes and scorpions and mountain lions out there in the dark smudge of the mountains against the horizon. Definitely mountain lion territory.
An email pinged onto her screen and she opened it. Patti wanted to know about flowers, bridesmaids—who and how many—venue, china, and flatware. Seriously, flatware? How important could that be? The list of questions scrolled right off her screen and she closed the email. Another email followed right on its heels. Patti’s planning frenzy, the sequel. God, she couldn’t deal with this right now.
A truck chugged to life and snaked its way out of the parking lot.
She shifted her chair back into the shade and out of the moving sun. Damn, the heat wouldn’t quit, but it beat sitting in her dingy motel room.
Clutching a takeout bag, Dakota slouched back, looking only a little bit less like a serial killer. He vanished into his motel room without a word.
Her phone vibrated in her lap.
Thomas Hunter: Nice dress.
Her heart gave a jaunty little thump. She tried not to smile, but failed. No sign of him in the parking lot or the corridor. He couldn’t have gotten past her without her seeing him.
Where are you? She hit Send.
Her phone vibrated. Watching you.
That’s creepy!!!!
You have a point.
She laughed. She couldn’t help it. He was such a dumbass.
Her phone shook again.
Are you still ignoring me?
I’m trying, but you being a stalker is making it difficult.
“Hey.” He appeared right beside her.
Tiffany almost dropped her phone she jumped so high. “Where the hell did you come from?”
He propped one shoulder against a supporting pillar. Dust and sweat streaked his face and arms. His T-shirt clung to the angles of his chest and belly.
Trust me, I’m a Jedi, she read.
“I followed a path and it came out behind the motel.” He made a vague motion with his hand.
“Okay.”
Tiffany fiddled with the hemline of her dress, which had ridden halfway up her thighs. Would he notice? Look at her legs, like he had when she wore her shorts? Get a grip, Tiffany.
“About this morning.”
Huge warning signs flashed behind her eyes. “There is nothing to say about this morning.” She couldn’t look at him, so she took out her phone and fiddled.
“You don’t want to talk about it, I get it. But I have something to say.” He crouched down in front of her, his legs framing hers, his hands on the arms of her chair.
Tiffany was forced to look at him.
“You’re right,” he said. “You and me, a really bad idea. Especially considering all we have going on.” Thigh muscle bulged under his cargo shorts. Coarse hair, slightly golden in the sun, covered the muscle.
A twang that felt suspiciously like disappointment caught behind her breastbone. “There is no you and me.”
“Yeah, there kind of is.” He ducked his head, meeting her downcast gaze. “I like you, Tiffany, and I’m seriously attracted to you. This morning, you were sweaty and half-naked and you slammed right into me.” He shrugged. “I’m a man, I reacted.”
It really didn’t help when he said shit like that. It crept over her in slow, insistent burn. “I can’t be attracted to you.”
“I know.” Thomas’s voice stroked over her and she shivered. “And I can’t be attracted to you. When this is over, I’m going to see my family for a bit and then it’s back to Zambia.”
Gone. No more Thomas Hunter. It shouldn’t hurt, but it kind of did. “I know all this.”
“You’re a forever kind of girl, and I’m a right now kind of guy,” he said.
Irrationally, she wanted to punch him as he said that. “Do you have a point?” It came out with a lash of bitch on the end, and she winced.
“Yeah, I do. I’m a man and you’re …” He shrugged.
What? What am I? What did he see when he looked at her?
“That doesn’t mean I’m going to jump you,” he said. “So, do you think you could stop ignoring me as well as what happened. It’s going to be a long few days if you keep that up.”
She didn’t want him to be, but he was right. Time to put her schoolgirl back in her box. Along with the purring kitty trying to mentally rub up against him. He’d caught her off balance that morning, but she was better now. Really, she was. They could be mature about this. Just because they had a little bit of a spark between them didn’t mean they couldn’t handle it. “Okay, but to be clear, nothing is going to happen.”
Up went the mouthy eyebrow. “What’s that?”
Tiffany followed the direction of his gaze and froze. Her book rested on the seat beside her. “It’s my diary.”
He titled his head and studied her book. “It’s very pink.”
“Yes, it is.” She picked it up and shoved it into her bag.
He watched her, two lines creasing between his eyes. He was putting things together in his head. She recognized that look. The silence prickled between them.
“You hungry?”
The subject change caught her off guard. Her shoulders drooped from their defensive stance. “A little.”
“Let’s get something to eat.” He held his hand out to her.
Her hand slipped into his like she’d done it a hundred times before. Heat spread over her palm and up her forearm. Part of her brain told her to tug her hand away, but the rest of her was all for leaving it there.
He tightened his grip slightly and pulled her to her feet.
Her forward motion carried her much closer to him than she expected.
He stilled.
Tiffany took in a deep breath of sun, laundry detergent, and man. Oh, boy, this wasn’t going to be as easy as she’d hoped.
He squeezed his fingers and then let go. One side of his mouth tilted up. “I guess no hand holding.”
“You guessed right.” She went for a light tone, but it came off not sounding quite right. She curled her fingers into the palm of her hand, but she could still feel his touch.
“Let’s get you some lettuce leaves and a piece of celery.”
*
Corey’s lip quivered as they loaded up the Miura.
Thomas wasn’t sure what upset the man more, the loss of the vintage Lamborghini or the loss of Tiffany, aka Delilah. Sentiment, however, didn’t stop him from presenting Thomas with the invoice.
Tiffany snatched it from his hand and doled out cash from a wad of greenbacks fat enough to make a drug dealer happy. By the light in Corey’s eye, she’d left him a little something extra. Thomas had her pegged for a charge card, no-limit credit card kind of girl. “No black American Express card?”
“No.” She spun away from him and stalked out of Corey’s office to the parking lot.
Okay, it had been a rude question. Still, he got the feeling it was more than that.
Her little group of admirers stood gathered for The Departure.
Hank loaded the Miura up with all the fervor of a born enthusiast. He then spent the next half hour lecturing Thomas on the trick to driving a trailer. Thomas listened patiently and nodded at the appropriate moments. He didn’t have the heart to tell Hank he’d towed earth-moving equipment across vi
rgin African bush.
It was late by the time they had everything locked and loaded, and they decided to spend one more night at the motel. They wanted to get going early in the morning. Five hours, a bit longer for the trailer, and they would be in Canyons. He should be elated to be getting this traveling circus moving.
He couldn’t get the way Tiffany fit right against him out of his head.
Chapter Sixteen
Tiffany chewed her lip. There must be some way out of this without pissing Thomas off. She’d caught sight of the algebra primer in the convenience store beside the gas station as Thomas paid for gas, and had been standing there wondering how to buy it without letting on when Thomas wandered over and launched into a session of book-buying enthusiasm.
“Fuck, I do not want to be seen looking at this shit.” Dakota ducked his head and slunk away, throwing her a look of disgust as he went. He was giving off a lot of attitude for a kid who’d delayed their early departure. First, he overslept and then he insisted on a long breakfast before they left.
“I don’t want one.” Tiffany stepped away from the book stand. “I have a whole list of books I haven’t read on my iPad.”
Thomas caught her by the hand and pulled her back. Tingles spread up her arm from the contact. His hands were slightly rough, as if he worked with them a lot. Not like Ryan’s perfectly manicured touch. It shouldn’t feel this good, for God’s sake. Not when she was busy planning a wedding to another man. Tiffany tried to wriggle her fingers free, but his grip tightened.
“This one looks good.” He plucked a book from the rack and read the back.
“Seriously, we don’t have time for this.” The algebra primer hovered in her peripheral vision. The trouble with teaching herself everything was that she was never sure which parts of her education were missing and was too humiliated to ask anyone to fill in the blanks. Maybe she could get it online.
“But you don’t want to read any of those.” He reached for another. Gleaming male torso captured in blue tones of the kind Piers photographed. “Hey, this guy must work out.”