Turbocharged

by Jessie Gussman

  “This is Eve’s brother.” Clint’s smile oozed battery acid.

  From a distance, Kaitlyn heard her phone hit the cement floor.

  2

  Nate bent over and picked up Kaitlyn’s phone. “Maybe we ought to take you to the hospital, just let them check you out.” He’d been relieved when she’d stepped down from the truck, smart-mouthed and sassy. Impressed, even. But now, the dazed, almost panicked expression in her brilliant blue eyes concerned him.

  “No.” Her face changed so completely he wondered if he’d imagined the look. “I’m fine. But I could use a lift to my garage so I can grab another insurance card.”

  “Give me a minute, and I’ll take you.” Clint said and turned the dirty blue rag over, looking for a clean spot to finish wiping his hands.

  “I’ll do it. You finish that truck.” Nate wasn’t sure what was going on between Clint and Kaitlyn. There was some kind of by-play there, but Clint needed to finish the truck he was working on.

  “Fine.” Clint stuffed the rag into his pocket and walked back toward the blue rig.

  “Come on.” Nate indicated the direction to his car. “Sure you don’t want to go to the ER?”

  “I’m sure. I’m not hurt, and they can’t fix mad.”

  Nate shrugged. “Nothing to be mad about. I’m sure the farmer appreciates the fact that none of his cows are bun bound.”

  She snorted. “But I’m sure Tank doesn’t appreciate me solving any ventilation problems he might have been having in his garage.”

  “True.” Nate reached his sedan and opened the passenger door. The scent of wildflowers teased his senses as she walked past.

  “This isn’t a date. I can open the door myself, thanks anyway.” Kaitlyn looked up at him.

  For the first time in his life, Nate experienced the unnerving sensation of being lost in someone’s eyes. As if he could see for miles and miles, and he wanted to examine every single foot. He yanked his gaze away, disturbed by the idea that maybe she could see the same depths in him.

  Kaitlyn sat without saying anything more.

  Nate waited until she got her long legs in before shutting her door. Be careful, mister. She’s not too hot for you to handle, but things wouldn’t turn out the way you want.

  Other than driving instructions Kaitlyn didn’t talk as they followed the winding road, passing cornfields brown and ready for harvest broken by copses of trees.

  They pulled past a small sign announcing Driver’s Door Trucking Company and into the parking area of a garage that was slightly bigger than Tank’s. A non-descript two-story house sat about fifty yards off to the side.

  “Hang on a sec, and I’ll be back with an insurance card.” Kaitlyn started to get out.

  “Wait.” Nate grabbed a napkin and a pen and scribbled his cell phone number down. “Text me the name of the company and the policy number. If I need anything more, I’ll let you know.”

  Kaitlyn looked at him in surprise and then leaned her head back on the seat, breathing out. “Thanks. I’m sorry I made your life more complicated.”

  Her vulnerability struck him, and he fought the urge to touch her arm in comfort. “I’m just glad no one got hurt. Including the cows.”

  Kaitlyn gave him a little smile before she turned to get out. She disappeared into the garage.

  Nate watched to make sure she made it inside. Kaitlyn was the exact opposite of every single thing he wanted in a woman. He did not want to have anything to do with her. Repeating that thought over and over as if he might eventually believe it, he drove away.

  ~*~

  Nate pulled back into the lot at Tank’s garage as Clint rolled out from under Unit 77, which sat in front of the open garage doors still hooked to a loaded trailer.

  He strode over and looked down at Clint. “Got that air leak fixed?”

  “Yeah,” Clint grunted as he sat up on the creeper and swiped a dirty arm across his sweaty face.

  “How soon will you have this load to Shaffersville? They want an ETA.”

  “Be three hours soon as I wash my hands.” Clint started to stand.

  “Do it at the house.” Nate jerked his head toward Tank and Eve’s small ranch home that sat further back in the driveway. “We’d better stay out of the garage. I’ve got someone coming tomorrow to inspect it.” Grabbing a wrench from the tool box sitting on the cement pad, Nate climbed up the step to tighten a loose bolt on the visor.

  “OK.” Clint pulled a ragged blue cloth out of his pocket and kicked the creeper so it rattled and skidded toward the garage. “I know you haven’t asked,” the cloth wasn’t much cleaner than his hands as he swiped them with it, “but I’m gonna tell you anyway.” A bit of a breeze lifted the thin strands of blond hair hanging on his neck showing a smear of black grease. “You need to watch that Kaitlyn. I know she’s a looker, but she’d sleep with the devil himself if she thought it’d get her anywhere.”

  Nate gave the bolt another yank, trying to reconcile Clint’s story to how Kaitlyn had knelt down and patched that little girl’s knee. “That’s her business.”

  “Well,” Clint rubbed his neck with a dirty hand, “I wasn’t going to say anything. Don’t want you thinking less of your brother-in-law or anything, but Kaitlyn seduced him. It’s why he’s taking off with his family for a while.”

  The wrench slipped off the bolt and hit the mirror arm with a clang. Nate’s chest felt as if it had taken the blow. “Gossip. Vicious gossip,” He ground out. It couldn’t be true. He didn’t know Kaitlyn, but he was sure Tank would never…the idea made him clench his fists. Tank had better not have hurt his sister.

  “I’m the one who found them.” Clint reached for his phone. “Got a picture right here.”

  “That’s sick.” Nate put a hand up, surprised to hear his voice sound almost normal. “Put it away.”

  “Just wanted to show you the evidence.” Clint struggled to get his phone out of his pocket.

  The drone of a diesel engine and the crunch of gravel made Nate look up. A bright green pickup chugged slowly to the garage. The occupant studied the tractor-trailer that sat goofily half-in, half-out of the back corner.

  “Uh-oh.” Clint stilled beside Nate, his cell phone forgotten in his hand.

  “I take it that’s not your average accident spectator?” Nate tried to harness the adrenaline thumping through him from the shock of Clint’s words. He didn’t want it to be true. Not about Kaitlyn, and not about Tank. Nate had told Tank he’d run his company. He needed to focus and do the best job he could. Later he would deal with these allegations about Kaitlyn and Tank. Clint could be lying.

  “Nope. It’s The Boss.”

  Nate lifted a brow and looked at Clint. Tank was ‘the boss’ on this property, and he’d just left for a four-week vacation. Because he needed it. Not because he’d cheated on his loving wife. Nate deliberately unclenched his fists.

  Clint shot a stream of tobacco juice onto the cement pad. “Kaitlyn’s dad. Everyone calls him The Boss.”

  Earlier Kaitlyn mentioned telling The Boss—and she’d said it just like Clint. As if The Boss was the head of the Mafia or something. But that meant…she must work for her dad.

  Nate pursed his lips and turned back to the pickup. He’d thought that she was older—mid-twenties at least. Old enough to…Tank’s face rose in front of his vision, and Nate’s hands fisted again. He willed it away. He had one last fight, then that life was over, done, and no matter how much he wanted to beat Tank to a bloody pulp, it would not happen.

  “They’re waiting on this load.” Nate reminded Clint.

  “Right.” Clint waved at the man in the truck, and then walked toward the house to wash up.

  The pickup huffed to a stop behind Nate’s car, and the acrid smell of diesel exhaust floated ahead of it. The motor cut and the door opened. Mr. Driver—Nate couldn’t think of him as The Boss—stepped out.

  “Hello, son.” The man’s belly protruded slightly over his pants and he walked with a swagger. We
ll, that was where Kaitlyn got her brilliant blue eyes. They were emphasized on this man by the biggest, bushiest uni-brow Nate had ever seen. “Name’s Eldridge.”

  “Humph. Clint just told me everyone calls you The Boss.” Nate held his own hand out. Eldridge wasn’t quite as tall as he, but he had to outweigh Nate by at least a hundred pounds. Another old habit—gauging an opponent’s weight—that he needed to break.

  Eldridge grinned. “It’s easier. Seems like ‘Eldridge’ is a mouthful for most people. In my business, men aren’t usually judged by their superior intellectual skills.” He looked askew at Nate’s dress pants and shirt.

  Nate held his breath. His determination to leave his old fighting life behind after this last fight hinged on him using his clothes as decoy. Purposely choosing big, baggy clothes that hid his build had worked so far. But the dress pants and shirt, while making the statement he wanted them to, also confused people and made him stand out. From the looks on their faces, they wondered if he really could take care of Tank’s trucks. That was fine. As long as they weren’t trying to set him up to fight the local bare-knuckle hero. He really wanted to leave that life. Nate scratched his head, trying to focus on the conversation. “I don’t know. Seems like there’s an awful lot to know and do to keep up with the trucking industry.”

  Tank had left a list of instructions a mile long.

  Eldridge gave Nate’s attire one last glance and then seemed to shrug. He nodded. “Heck of a lot more than there used to be, that’s for sure. Easier to hire someone to sort out the red tape. But I’m stubborn and like to do it all myself.” Eldridge jerked his head at the mangled corner of the garage. “Days like today, wish I weren’t.”

  Nate grunted. “Yeah. Poor Tank’s not even made it out of the state yet. I sure hate to call him about this.” He’d been putting it off. Maybe if Tank got far enough away, he wouldn’t think he needed to come home to deal with it.

  “Don’t call him until tonight.” Eldridge strolled to the side of the garage and put his hands on his hips. His uni-brow bunched, waving slightly in the breeze as he surveyed the damage. “We can handle this.”

  “I called the building inspector, and he said he’d be here tomorrow.”

  “Nice. I’ll get on the horn to the insurance company. Pretty sure this will be classified same as hitting a deer—‘an act of God’—meaning no one is at fault.” He shrugged, giving the impression he’d been through it a million times. “The insurance company will want to come look at things and get an estimate. Takes ’em forever. They want their premium yesterday, but are never in a hurry to pay out. Meantime,” Eldridge lifted his baseball cap and scratched his completely bald head. “What does Tank have on the road right now? Eight, ten, trucks?”

  “Nine.”

  “OK. If any of them need work, have them go to my shop. We’ll work on them there.”

  “I can do the work myself, but I’ll take you up on using your shop.”

  Eldridge’s head snapped around, and this time he wasn’t subtle about his scrutiny of Nate.

  Nate waited. Eldridge seemed like an excellent judge of men, and if anyone would see through his businessman attire to the fighter beneath, it would be him.

  Finally, he shook his head. “I’m sorry. You just don’t strike me as a diesel mechanic.”

  Yes. Nate grinned, feeling as if he’d passed a test. “I can get the job done, sir.”

  Eldridge seemed to think on that for a minute. Finally he said, “OK. Then it’s settled. Until Tank’s garage is fit to use, all his work can be done at mine.” He stepped in front of Nate. “I’ve got pretty much all the tools Tank does. You’ll have to provide your own parts and share space with my daughter. She’s used to being in charge, but she’ll just have to deal. And she might have to park her pulling truck outside for a while.” He took his ball cap off and rubbed his head again. “I haven’t seen her yet. Left my wife at the doctor’s in town to come out here, but I’m sure Kaitlyn’s upset about this. She’s not used to screwing up.”

  “Think she was more concerned about your reaction, sir.” That was the truth, but it was also true that Nate was frantically searching his brain to try to find a way to not share space with Kaitlyn. If Clint was even half right, if Kaitlyn tried and failed to seduce Tank, or if, God forbid, his brother-in-law had tried…He pushed those thoughts out of his mind. Kaitlyn intrigued him, interested him, challenged him…and was all wrong for him. He needed to keep his distance.

  “You don’t have to call me sir.” Eldridge settled his ball cap on his head. “And Kaitlyn won’t worry about my reaction.”

  Nate thought differently, but he kept his mouth shut. If he were sharing space with Kaitlyn, he might be able to get to the bottom of the issue with Tank. He ignored the little voice that told him it was none of his business. And he told the other, slightly louder voice that said he was using that as an excuse to spend time with Kaitlyn to shut up.

  Eldridge’s phone buzzed and he unclipped it from his belt. He glanced at it and turned to go. “I need to run back into town.” His uni-brow furrowed, and it was the first time since he’d arrived that he didn’t seem completely confident. Even his voice was less forceful when he said, “Wife’s had some back pain lately. We were at the doctor’s waiting on test results. She just said I’d better get in there.”

  “Hope everything’s OK.”

  “Yeah.” Eldridge turned to go. “Me, too. If you want to follow me, I can show you where my place is.”

  “I’m good. I took Kaitlyn home.” His car had smelled like wildflowers all the way back. Wildflowers and duct tape. Yesterday, it would have seemed like an odd combo, but today? Today, he couldn’t imagine anything going together more perfectly.

  ~*~

  Later that evening Nate stood on the Stantons’ back porch, cell phone in one hand. He dreaded calling Tank. It wasn’t so much the accident that bothered him, but more that he wasn’t sure he could talk to him without mentioning what Clint had said. Nate knew his sister’s marriage was none of his business, but she was family. And he’d grown up protecting her. Although, if he were honest, Clint had said seduced, which laid just as much blame at Kaitlyn’s feet. If she had, if Tank fell for it, did Nate really want to know? And worst of all, drat his stupid, stupid heart, it still skipped a beat every time he thought of her bending beside that little girl and patching her up with duct tape. He fingered the blue paper in his pocket. As soon as he got off the phone with Tank, he’d call Linda.

  He grabbed the twenty-pound weight from the banister and did three slow sets of ten reps while he waited for the phone to ring. Tank didn’t answer, so Nate left a bare-bones message, assuring him that everything was fine. Nate switched the weight to the other hand and dialed the number on the blue piece of paper.

  Linda was just as nice as Eve had said she would be. But she didn’t have much to say to him, and he had trouble pulling his mind away from Kaitlyn long enough to focus on being interested in Linda. They made arrangements to go to the local fair Saturday night, and Nate pressed ”off,” setting his phone on the banister. Jumping down the four porch steps in one leap, he settled into a steady jog, taking the dirt road that lead to the river that backed Tank’s property.

  He’d keep his eyes and ears open, and if there was overwhelming evidence that Clint’s claims were true, he’d deal with them then. Meantime, he needed to keep his guard up, because a woman like Kaitlyn could make a man forget his good intentions, forget the danger of his natural inclinations, and do something dumb.

  He stopped jogging at the river long enough to lift his shirt over his head and kick his running shoes off. After peeling his socks off, he jumped in and started swimming upstream, against the current. The water was freezing. It was exactly what he needed.

  3

  At seven the next morning, Nate pulled into the Driver’s Door Trucking garage and parked next to a dark blue Jeep with a pink pinstripe. He glanced at his watch. In about twenty minutes, one of Tank’s trucks woul
d be pulling in to have the tarp crank fixed. Slamming his door shut, he pushed the man door open. A baby’s shrill cry greeted him.

  “Are you Nate? Are you Nate? Is your name Nate?” A little boy, reminding Nate strongly of a Golden Retriever mainlining espresso, shouted over the squalling. Nate grinned, nodding his head, while the kid jumped up and down, pumping his fist and yelling, “He’s here! He’s here! The one you said was coming!” With a shout and a clumsy attempt at a high-five, the little boy went running.

  Kaitlyn stepped around a fancy-looking rig. Big, straight pipes jutted past the upraised hood. The low visor gave the impression of a dude in sunglasses.

  Nate whistled, although it was drowned out by the screaming baby. Tank had some nice-looking trucks, but nothing to compare to the fancy large car sitting right here. He finally dragged his gaze from the truck to the woman holding the crying child. Same outfit as yesterday—jeans, old t-shirt, and scuffed work boots—Nate’s heart skipped. Don’t get too relaxed; even if she didn’t do what Clint said, she’s not for you. He’d end up hurting her.

  Kaitlyn’s look clearly conveyed the fact that his presence had just made a bad day worse.

  The little boy bounced around her and the baby cried and twisted his head as she tried to stuff a bottle in his mouth.

  Nate lifted his hands in mock apology and took a small step backward. “I was looking for Driver’s Door Trucking, but I think I’ve stumbled upon Driver’s Door Daycare instead.”

  Kaitlyn raised her brows and gave him a look that could’ve singe steel. “I don’t suppose you have any experience with children?” Her sarcastic tone underscored the fact that she wasn’t expecting him to alleviate her situation.

  Nate firmly clamped his mouth closed around any equally sarcastic retort and reached out for the baby. “May I?”

  Kaitlyn handed him over the way one might a radioactive football: carefully, and with extreme relief.