by Shannyn Leah
TABLE OF CONTENTS
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
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Connect With Me
Chapter Two
More by Shannyn Leah
Dax
Bad Boys of Willow Valley
Book One, Dax Colyn
By The Lake Series
Shannyn Leah
Copyright © 2017 by Shannyn Leah
All rights reserved
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or transmitted by any electronic or mechanical means including information, storage and retrieval systems, without the permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Shannyn Leah
www.ShannynLeah.com
Dedication
For my readers who couldn’t wait to dive into the bad boys of Willow Valley.
A special dedication to those who helped me to understand the behind the scenes and action in a firehouse.
I’d like to send a special “thank you” out to Mandy Harper and her husband and fire lieutenant, Rex, who helped me understand the behind the scenes action, firefighter terminology and atmosphere in the firehouse. Without these two on call during the times I was writing these scenes, I wouldn’t have been able to complete them.
CHAPTER ONE
~
DAX COLYN PARKED HIS TURBOCHARGED, jacked-up Ford truck alongside the front of the thriving restoration shop. He rolled the passenger’s window down to admire his truck’s jet-black paint job reflecting off the mirrored glass windows. Then his eyes took in the remarkably fascinating sign hung at the front of the building which he’d made himself from car parts lying around the shop. In the evening the back lit up and highlighted the name “Colyn & Son”. Dax couldn’t be more proud to have constructed the only restoration business in Willow Valley with his father.
For as long as Dax could remember, his father, Rowdy, had always had a passion for re-building cars. He’d reconstructed car after car and flipped them for a profit. Dax remembered helping him work on them from a young age all the way through his middle school years. While his friends had been playing sports, Dax had played in grease.
So it hadn’t been a surprise that Dax had jumped at the opportunity to be partners when his father had presented a business plan to open Colyn & Son Restoration. However, at the time, Dax had only been in his first year of high school, and his stern father had one stipulation: graduate high school and obtain a college degree first. Dax had nailed both of those while working all his extra hours in the shop.
He’d acquired his hard working gene from his dad, who’d recently been promoted to fire chief at the local fire station where Dax volunteered. His dad still managed to find time to work at their shop but no longer had enough time to enjoy and unwind with his son and a good frosty beer at Buck’s Bar. That was okay with Dax, though. He often found other—more satisfying—ways to unwind at night.
The bar on the main street, across from the beach, was known to attract tourists. Most locals didn’t step foot inside the wild place, but it was an easy place to hook up with attractive women looking for casual, one-night stands. Now that it was September, the pickings were slim, but Dax hadn’t been complaining last night.
Now, with the sun barely up—he’d always been an early riser no matter what—he rolled the window back up and cut the roaring engine. Scrubbing his hands over his face, he took a deep breath and battled his pounding headache. He hurt everywhere. But, damn, it had been worth it.
Ready to start his morning, he grabbed the duffle bag he’d left in his backseat for mornings just like this and climbed out of the truck. Squinting against the morning sun, he slipped his sunglasses down from his head and slid them over his eyes.
As he pressed the lock button on his key fob, he recalled the evening he’d just spent with a spicy redhead. He’d parted ways with her only minutes earlier but the flashes of their night together eased his headache. Still, he’d wished he could have pounded an hour or more in the gym and grabbed a quick shower and well-needed pot of coffee before coming to work, but the fire station was located conveniently beside the Colyn shop—his dad had planned that well—and had a well-equipped gym, showers and coffee that wasn’t half bad. Starting his day here instead of his condo would make it easier to prepare for dealing with the new high school co-op student Rowdy had arranged to be Dax’s shadow for the next twelve weeks at the fire station. Dax didn’t think babysitting a co-op student was a good use of his time but he couldn’t say no to the chief.
“Those shades aren’t going to hide the fun you had last night.” His buddy, and volunteer fire fighter, Hawk slapped his shoulder. “I give you credit for trying to disguise your hangover, but I’m guessing no one will miss your blood shot eyes.”
Dax chuckled, tossing his bag over his shoulder. “What the hell are you doing up so early? You don’t have a co-op student to babysit.”
He shrugged. “Maybe your morning routine is rubbing off on me.” He looked Dax over. “Last night’s clothes. No perspiration. I see you didn’t take your morning run on the beach.” He gave an approving nod. “You hookup with Red?”
Dax smirked at him. “I wasn’t walking away from that piece of ass.”
“She wasn’t walking away from you.”
That was true. Red hadn’t been shy about her motives the night before. Dax liked a straightforward woman who wasn’t afraid of her sexuality and who told him what she wanted.
“Jealous?”
Hawk shook his head. “I didn’t go home alone. You’re not the only one who can catch a nice piece of ass.”
Dax laughed, but the motion only caused more pain. The gym was going to kill him.
~
AT NINE O’CLOCK sharp, Dax stood in the apparatus bay between two fire engines. His body still felt the burn of his workout, but his mind felt more clear.
He folded his arms across his thick chest, ignoring the objection of his sore muscles, especially his shoulder, where a previous injury still swelled. Narrowing his eyes on his shadow for the next twelve weeks, he sneered at the teenager’s unsuitable attire. The rusty-haired boy—“Rusty” would be a good nickname for him—might get away with not wearing steel toe boots and letting his pants hang so low they looked ready to fall off his ass at school, but not at the fire station. There were co-op safety regulations that clearly stated the clothing requirement the boy had to follow and he’d obviously not paid them much attention. The program had limited positions for kids and it aggravated Dax for one of them to show up without reading the placement outline.
Dax rubbed his scruffy jaw line and asked, “Did you read the placement outline?”
The b
oy nodded, his long, wavy bangs falling over his eyes. He made a small flipping motion with his head to toss his hair back before saying, “Yes, sir.”
Yes, sir, his ass.
“Go home and read it again. If you can figure out what you’ve done wrong, I’ll see you back here tomorrow morning at the same time. If not, don’t bother coming back.”
The boy blinked.
Dax arched his eyebrows. “Do you need me to show you the front door?” He glanced beyond the boy where the large four-fold doors stood wide open looking out onto a side street of the main.
Another short shake of the head. “No, sir.” The boy looked around as though one of the other men would swoop in and save him. But this station was half volunteer and half paid, so there weren’t as many around at this hour. This kid better get used to managing his own shit because life wasn’t all a hand out.
Finally, the boy turned and stalked out of the bay, his pants hanging way below his backside. Dax felt bad for the poor bastard whose daughter this boy pursued.
~
AVA ANDERSON PARKED her car down the street from the local fire station. She popped open the trunk and rummaged around the teal and white beach bag packed with all the necessities for an afternoon at the beach. She swapped out her work high heels to a pair of comfortable sandals and then rummaged some more through the bag to confirm she’d packed an extra change of clothes so she could also get rid of her constricting skirt and blazer.
Breathing in the warm September air, she enjoyed the short walk to the station. These hot end-of-summer-weather days were Ava’s favorite. They promised one more day of soaking up the sun and splashing in the water with her daughter before the winter weather came about.
Stopping in front of the station where the doors were wide open and bright red fire trucks towered inside the bay, she saw her daughter had beaten her to the water part. Soaked from her blonde damp curls to her sandaled feet, the six-year-old was quite a sight. The girl didn’t notice her mother as she dipped a sponge bigger than both her hands in a soapy pail of water before raising it as high as she could reach on the truck. Ava smiled as she watched more water dripping down her daughter’s arms than meeting the red paint.
Ava took off her sunglasses and stepped inside the bay. “I thought we might go to the beach today.”
Olivia’s wide eyes turned in the direction of Ava. “Mommy!” She tossed the sponge in the direction of the bucket, missing completely, but not noticing it flop onto the wet cement as she barreled toward her mother.
Ava bent down for a wet hug, cringing as the liquid made dark imprints on her navy clothes. “Were you good for Grandpa?”
Olivia pulled away. “Yes. Can Grandpa come with us to the beach?”
“Grandpa’s an old man. He’d wrinkle into a prune sitting around the beach.” Behind her daughter, Ava watched as Rowdy Colyn picked up the wayward sponge and tossed it into the bucket. He hardly fit the description of an “old man.” His hair may have peppered silver over the years, but as fire chief he maintained a daily regimen of exercise for a fit and healthy body.
“I wanted to go work on Charlie.” Olivia pouted her lower lip which was more adorable than she knew and Ava attempted to keep a serious face. “But Grandpa said you were coming to get me, so we decided to wash the trucks instead.” She tilted her head and gave her mother one of her cutest toothy smiles. “Can I work on Charlie after the beach? Please? Just for a little while?”
The vintage black Impala, AKA “Charlie”, sat in one of the bays next door in the Colyn shop. It had been Rowdy’s car in his teenage years. From the moment Olivia could walk and talk, the two of them had spent oodles of hours working to restore it.
Ava kissed her daughter’s button nose before looking at Rowdy. “I could stop by after we grab a bite to eat. Do you want to stay after six?”
Rowdy shrugged. “Either we work on Charlie or go home and talk about working on Charlie. Might as well get the work done.”
She looked back at her daughter. “You better thank Grandpa with a seriously massive bear hug.” She set Olivia on her feet and the girl darted across the distance between her and Rowdy for a hug. Rowdy launched her into the air, spinning her around.
Old man, right.
“I’m going to change. Can you watch her a few more minutes?”
Rowdy nodded and Ava walked toward the day room, smiling at the conversation behind her.
“She can finish washing the truck, the whole side, before she goes.”
“Grandpa, that would take too long.”
“Oh, Ava!”
She turned to catch Rowdy jogging up to her. “Yes?”
“When you drop Olivia off at the shop, can you check Dax’s shoulder? Maybe ice it with that cold or heat gel stuff or an ice pack if it’s still swollen. He really buggered it up when the truck flipped two weeks back. The ambulance managed to get him to the hospital that day, not sure how, but he needs a follow up and he cancelled this week.”
Ava quietly eyed the man before her, wondering if she’d mistakenly heard him. Why would she check his son’s shoulder? She wasn’t a professional doctor or nurse and she certainly wasn’t on close enough terms with Dax to ask him to flash his bare shoulder without it getting awkward quick. The man exuded a ruggedly aloof persona and she doubted her opinion mattered much to him.
“Are you joking?” she asked.
“Is my son’s damaged shoulder funny to you?”
Ava frowned at him. “You know you’re the fire chief, right? You can instruct him to give you the follow up papers from the doctor or threaten to suspend his volunteering until you receive it.”
“We both know how stubborn Dax is. He’d take the latter. Just do me a favor and check his shoulder and report back to me.” Rowdy turned and walked away.
“Rowdy—”
“Grab a few supplies at the drug store on the strip and I’ll reimburse you.”
So that was settled.
Taking a deep breath, Ava pushed through the door. She couldn’t say no to Rowdy after everything he’d done for her the last seven years, taking her in when she’d been pregnant and had nowhere to go.
But darn it, this?
It was clear which parent Dax got his stubbornness from.
CHAPTER TWO
~
“WHO THE HELL IS RESPONSIBLE for this shit?” Dax stared at the half-labeled motorcycle parts from the dissembled custom cruiser spread across the floor of his shop.
Dax wanted to strangle someone. What kind of dimwit only labeled a fraction of the parts removed from a vehicle? No one on his payroll should be this irresponsible. Whoever was responsible deserved an earful, or a kick in the ass, or both, but not necessarily in that order.
Stone Pearson, his best friend and top employee, stopped beside him. Dax didn’t need to look at him to know he’d be sporting a tight white T-shirt that bared the tribal tattoos scribbled up his arms and over his bulging forearms. He’d also be wearing his jeans with more rips and holes than a sifter. His friend called the old denim pants his “good luck jeans” and he could name when and where each hole, rip and stain had occurred.
Right now, he’d better name the idiot responsible for this disaster. Dax had thought after sending away the co-op student, his day would have been a breeze. Clearly, he’d been mistaken.
As if reading his thoughts, which wasn’t uncommon when it came to the job, Stone said, “Newbie.”
Dax cursed. “When did we hire a newbie and who let him near a bike to be disassembled? Do you know whose bloody bike this is?”
“Yes, boss. Jake Stow, boss.” Stone only called him boss to mock him. The term was a long-time inside joke between friends turned boss and employee. Normally Dax rolled the taunt off his shoulders, but today mocking a situation he didn’t find amusing, dug annoyance into his core. The bike belonged to business owner Jake Stow and the rich bastard liked his bikes almost as much he liked life itself.
Dax slanted a look at his friend. “Then why
is some newbie working on Stow’s bike?”
Stone crossed his arms over his broad chest, eyeing the mess under dark, thick lashes. “The ‘newbie’—his name is Ross, by the way—labeled half the parts, ran out of labels and decided to finish disassembling and grab labels afterwards. He’s in the storage room now.”
Oh bloody hell, a destructive mouse had been left loose in the parts room. And why did that name sound familiar?
“Weren’t you watching him?”
“From the office.” Stone nodded at his office which was right beside Dax’s, at the top of the metal stairs, and overlooked this area of the shop.
“And you didn’t think to stop him before he tore the bike apart?”
Stone nodded his head of shaggy brown hair and rubbed the scruff along his jaw line. “Yes.”
“And yet...here we stand.”
“He has to learn, boss.”
“Not on my watch.” Dax didn’t hire undependable screw-ups. “Fire him.”
“Not your call.” Stone slapped his shoulder, a chuckle trickling out. “Ava convinced the old man to give him a job, remember?”
No, he didn’t remember.
“Well, then the old man takes full responsibility for that decision,” Dax grumbled.
Stone grunted. “If you say so. Had Ava asked you, I’m sure you wouldn’t have been able to say no.”
Dax’s deadly look made Stone drop the smart-ass look he wore. He cleared his throat. “Anyway, I got this under control.” As he reassured Dax, the scrawny little newbie walked into the shop, stumbling in his high top sneakers.
Bloody hell, he was clumsy too.
The boy straightened at the sight of Dax, motionless except for the unmistakeable fear exhibited by his fingers tightening around the labels.
Rusty.
Same shoes. Same boots. Same irresponsibility.
Dax opened his mouth, ready to rip him a new one for messing with his customer’s bike unsupervised, but then realized he wanted to know why the hell the co-op student was in his shop, getting paid.
Stone stepped in front of Dax. “Have you ever taken a bike apart?” His bark echoed across the room, causing the kid to drop the labels on the floor, several smacked down atop one of the bike pieces.