Clear as Glass

by Lynn Kellan

  Clear as Glass

  Winner of Five Romance Writers of America Contests

  Lynn Kellan

  CLEAR AS GLASS

  Winner of five Romance Writer of America Chapter Contests

  Finalist in the 2015 Book Buyers Best Contest

  Written by Lynn Kellan

  Published by Lynn Kellan

  Copyright 2019 by Lynn Kellan

  ISBN: 978-0-9977448-6-6

  All rights reserved.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, stored, or transmitted without the permission of the author. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. To obtain permission to excerpt portions of the text, please contact the author via her website at www.LynnKellan.com.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents have come from the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons is completely coincidental.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter One

  A branch cracked, loud as a gunshot. Something big was near her car. Something menacing. Something heavy enough to snap a thick branch in two. Jaye Davis dropped the lug wrench and snatched her flashlight off the pavement, pointing the thin beam into the tangle of trees. A bear-like shape disappeared behind a gnarled oak.

  Jaye’s heart collapsed to the size of a hummingbird, quivering in her chest. The only weapons within reach were her high heels, a sputtering flashlight, and a greasy car jack. She flicked a glance at the dark October sky. If there were any angels drumming their fingers on Heaven’s countertop, could they swoop down and help right now?

  Dry leaves rustled and she aimed the light at a thorny shrub. The beam landed on a pair of round eyes and long ears.

  A bunny.

  Not quite an angel, but the little rabbit would keep her company while she dealt with a flat tire, a valley with no cell reception, a big something in the woods, a consulting job hundreds of miles from home, and a new client waiting for her to show up.

  A disaster.

  Help wasn’t on the way. No one seemed to live this far north in Pennsylvania. She was five miles from the tiny town of Shinglehouse, but she hadn’t spotted a shingle or a house anywhere in these wooded mountains. Just bunnies, bears, and the monsters in her mind.

  The shadows behind the tree trunks shifted, stretching long fingers into the Allegheny National Forest. An engine’s menacing growl vibrated behind her, and she whirled toward the two-lane highway. Headlights approached, bright enough to hurt her eyes. Jaye shielded her gaze and took a step back. Her right heel pierced a layer of dry leaves and sank into soft earth.

  A battered pickup materialized, parking in front of her car on the gravel shoulder. The engine rattled to a stop and the driver’s side door swung open.

  A man stepped into the glare of her headlights. He was a little older than she, perhaps in his early thirties. His knit cap, red sweatshirt, and faded jeans were ordinary enough, but he had the broad shoulders and lean core of a linebacker. Something in the glint of his gaze looked smarterand kinderthan any of the football players she’d known.

  “Looks like you’ve got a flat.” His oven-warm voice bounced off the bare maple limbs overhanging the road. “Anyone coming to help?”

  “Nope, but I’m not alone.” She jabbed a shaky finger toward the woods. “There’s a bunny nearby. Maybe a bear, too.”

  One blond brow arched, disappearing under the ribbed cuff of his hat. “Neither one can change a tire.”

  “Guess I’m in trouble.” She tucked her wobbling fingers into a fist. This man was six feet taller and at least one-hundred-and-eighty pounds heavier than the average bunny. For him, removing a lug nut would be as easy as twisting a cap off a water bottle.

  A shiver zinged down her spine. Should she trust him? Even though her prayer for help had been answered, she would’ve preferred a smaller, less-intimidating guardian angel—one with translucent wings and fairy dust. Not one who could crush a beer can with a careless squeeze of his big hand.

  Overpowering her would be just as simple.

  Cold wind cut through her wool skirt, slapping against her skin like she wore nothing at all. Jaye felt vulnerable and exposed, which was ironic. She’d fled to this remote part of the Appalachian Mountains to avoid those emotions, not put herself at the mercy of an imposing stranger.

  The man reached into his truck and came toward her. Light from her headlights backlit him, masking his expression. Something dangled from his hand. A gun?

  Jaye’s heart squirted in front of her lungs and banged against her ribcage. She pointed her flashlight in his direction but the beam fizzled and died.

  The stranger kept coming, like a monster from the woods.

  She swung the worthless flashlight and hit him below the belt. The jarring impact made the light flicker to life.

  Whatever the man held dropped to the pavement with a loud, metallic clatter. He grunted and bent over.

  “Don’t take another step.” She backed away, aiming the watery beam at the grimace twisting his mouth.

  “Why’d you hit me?”

  Some distant part of her brain registered that this man’s voice fell an octave after being clobbered in the groin. “I thought you were going to…”

  His head notched up. “Going to what?”

  “I have no idea.”

  A puzzled frown crinkled his brow. “Why didn’t you ask?”

  She kept the light pointed like it was the business end of a gun. “Because sex maniacs and murderers don’t tell people they’re sex maniacs and murderers until it’s too late.”

  His eyes widened.

  Even in the dim light, she could tell his irises were a dark, slate blue. Not a hint of depravity filtered into his steadfast gaze.

  One big hand opened, palm out. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you. My fault. Not yours.” He braced both hands on his thighs and blew out a sigh that misted in the cold October air.

  Jaye didn’t dare look at the fly of his jeans. “Are you…hurt?”

  “Yeah. Being mistaken for a sex-crazed murderer stings like hell.” His gaze flicked to her car. “I’m gonna change your tire. Probably should’ve mentioned that before I came toward you.”

  Accepting his help didn’t feel right after nailing him in the nuts. “If you could remove the flat, I’ll put on the spare.”

  “No way. I’ll take care of everything.” He picked up an item beside his foot. “Your flashlight is about to die. Use mine.”

  She gripped the metal tube and offered an apologetic smile. “I thought you were carrying a gun.”

  “No wonder you slugged me.” He cleared his throat and met her gaze. “Defending yourself was the right thing to do. You had no idea if I was up to no good, and you bought time to run away.”

  The unexpected p
raise sent a curl of warmth into her chest. Grateful he wasn’t holding a grudge, she pointed his flashlight’s bright beam toward her flat tire. Her gaze crept over her car’s hood to the trees crowding the road. “A few minutes ago, I heard something in the forest. What lives in these woods?”

  The man knelt by her flat. “You probably heard a possum or a whistle pig.”

  She jerked her gaze toward him. “What the heck is a whistle pig?”

  “A groundhog.” He gripped the wrench with hands the size of dinner plates and loosened the remaining lug nut with an efficient yank.

  “Whatever I saw was bigger than a groundhog. More like a bear.”

  “Doesn’t matter. He’ll fall to his knees if you hit him with your flashlight.” He looked over his shoulder at her. “Aim for the same spot you got me.”

  She burst out laughing and covered her mouth. “Sorry about that.”

  “Forget it.” He gave her an all-is-forgiven grin.

  Her angel-trapped-in-two-hundred-pounds-of-muscle was a handsome man. Handsome enough to distract her from any bear shuffling through the woods. Yogi Bear. Smokey Bear. A grizzly bear. Didn’t matter. She couldn’t look away from the man kneeling a few feet away. “Thank you for stopping to help. I was beginning to think no one lived out here.”

  “Plenty of people out here, but everyone is watching the game. I would be, too, but I have to meet some guy my father hired.” With a few industrious pumps of the jack, he raised the front end of her car. “Every year, he brings in some outsider to screw up our business.”

  Foreboding skittered down her bare neck, sticking cold fingers under the collar of her blazer. “An outsider?”

  “Yeah. A consultant who doesn’t know the first thing about our glassblowing factory.” He carried her flat to the open trunk. “Now I’ve got to come up with a good reason to fire some jerk I’ve never met.”

  Her insides kinked. A few minutes ago, she hit him in the nuts and called him a murderous sex maniac. Now, he had very good reason to fire her. “You must be Mitch Blake.” She angled the flashlight at her chest. The bright light beamed off the ruffled white blouse peeking from the lapels of her blazer. “Your father hired me.”

  Mitch’s gaze dropped to her skirt. “I’m supposed to meet someone named Jayson Davis.”

  “I’m Jayson, but I’d rather you call me Jaye. Sorry about the confusion. If it’s any consolation, this isn’t the first time someone didn’t expect me. My father was convinced I’d be a boy. He liked the name Jayson too much to change it.” The confession eroded her confidence. Would Mitch be another man she’d never please?

  The muscles along his jaw tightened, hard as the cold pavement. “Does my father know you’re a woman?”

  “I have no idea. We made arrangements via email. He never asked.” Mitchell Blake was acting like a sexist oaf who thought women didn’t belong in a factory. Jaye gripped the flashlight, tempted to whack him in the nuts again. “Your father said he’d provide a place for me to live during our four-week contract. Could you point me to the hotel?”

  “You’re not staying at a hotel.” Mitch’s terse words bounced off the road. “You’re living with me.”

  Chapter Two

  The loud clack of Jaye’s high heels against the kitchen floor punctuated the fact she didn’t belong in Mitchell Blake’s house. Determined to find an alternative, she swiped her thumb across the screen of her cell phone to activate her browser. “I’ll get a room at a hotel.”

  “Don’t bother. Every place around here is booked.” Mitch shut the back door with a firm push. “There are no vacancies.”

  “I don’t understand.” Jaye lowered her phone. “There’s nothing but woods up here. Have squirrels reserved every hotel room?”

  “Not unless they’re hunting deer. This time of year, we’re swamped with hunters.” He folded his arms across his chest. “Let me get this straight. My father found you on the Internet, contacted you about doing some work for the factory, and hired you sight unseen?”

  Apparently, their friendly banter about whistle pigs hadn’t eased Mitch’s reluctance to hire an outsider. So much for the warm welcome she’d hoped for. Now she didn’t feel guilty about clocking him in the nuts. “Your father didn’t hire me sight unseen. He saw my portfolio. Nick knows what he’s getting.”

  Mitch’s shoulders shifted, angling toward her. “Are you a glass blower?”

  “No. I specialize in virtual marketing. I’ll hone your factory’s brand, set up a presence on the web, and build a virtual store to sell your hand-blown drinking glasses.” She resisted the urge to tell him she majored in programming and marketing in college. Graduating summa cum laude hadn’t compelled her own father to hire her, so why would her accomplishments impress Mitch?

  “An online store won’t work. People need to hold our products to see the clarity and quality of our glass.” He braced one arm against the back of a kitchen chair and shook his head. “Rather than pour our resources into virtual marketing, we need to offer new products to increase revenue.”

  “Blake Glassware is a perfect candidate for an online store.” Jaye had to convince Mitch Blake to give her a chance. She was tired of being a faceless drone stuck in a cubicle, writing code. If she could help real people, she wouldn’t feel so invisible. “I’ve seen remarkable upticks in sales when companies branch into the virtual marketplace. With the right photography, your glassware will capture buyers on a global level.”

  Mitch let out a dry laugh. “We have to hire a photographer, too?”

  “No. I’ll take photographs for the website.”

  “Two for the price of one.” He blew out a sigh. “How much is this project costing?’

  “Nick hired me to work for one month. He asked me to keep the terms confidential, but you’re welcome to ask him for the details.”

  “I intend to.” His hand tightened on the oak chair, his knuckles turned white against his wind-burned skin. “Tell me, when did you sign this contract?”

  “Two weeks ago.” The hair along Jaye’s arms stood, poking the insides of her sleeves. “Didn’t your father tell you?”

  “An hour ago. If I hadn’t run into him at my brother’s football game, he might’ve neglected to mention your arrival at all.”

  No wonder Mitch didn’t welcome her with open arms—he had no idea she would show up. Their ridiculous predicament made a spurt of laughter bubble out of her fatigue. “We’re not off to a good start, are we?”

  His hard stare could have been fused from glass. “My father will think this is downright hilarious.”

  At least someone around here had a sense of humor. Jaye tilted her head. “Why did you want to fire me? You had no idea what I was hired to do.”

  “Doesn’t matter what you were hired to do. I don’t like consultants.”

  She took one look at the snarl curling his upper lip and felt a knot form in her chest. “Why not?”

  His gaze blazed an imaginary hole into the refrigerator door. “You don’t need to know.”

  This just keeps getting better and better. Jaye searched for Nick Blake’s contact information on her phone. Drat, she only had his office number. “Could you give me Nick’s cell? I’ll ask him to find a different place for me to stay.”

  “No, I’ll call him. This is our fault. I’ll make things right.” Mitch tossed his knit hat onto the kitchen table. Ultra-short blond hair covered his head, the buzz cut similar to what an implacable drill sergeant might sport. Reaching behind his neck, he pulled the red sweatshirt over his head and tossed the fleece over a chair. Blake Glassware’s square lettering spanned the back of his red t-shirt.

  Jaye’s jaw went slack. A whole sentence could fit between his broad shoulders. Living within touching distance of that impressive back would tempt her to do things she shouldn’t do, like flirt with a burly glassblower . Her stomach performed a ticklish somersault, her body’s way of saying “Yay, I want that!”

  He lifted a phone out of his pocket. “We’ve
got two women who work at the factory, but they have big families and full houses. I doubt they could give you a room.”

  “I don’t want to inconvenience anyone.” Her gaze jumped to the clock hanging above an old black stove. The second hand wavered above the faded three before continuing the slow journey around the face. Nine-thirty. She’d been up since five in the morning. What she wouldn’t give to collapse onto a soft bed.

  If she were a guy, she could crash in Mitch’s extra bedroom. Then again, everything would be simpler if she’d been born the son her parents so desperately wanted.

  Darting away from that dangerous topic, she looked around the kitchen. The scuffed oak cabinets were outdated but the white counters were clean. Now that she’d found one of the shingled houses in Shinglehouse, she didn’t want to leave. Her overbearing father and philandering ex-boyfriend would never find her tucked away in Mitchell Blake’s brick ranch.

  “My father isn’t answering.” Mitch lowered the phone to the table. “I’ll try again in five minutes.”

  “Do most short-term employees stay with you?”

  “Yeah. I’m the only one who has the room.”

  “Ah, you’re the default host.”

  “Mm.” He nudged his phone away from the table’s edge.

  Not once did his gaze drop to her mouth, breasts, or hips in male speculation. Despite their rocky start, Mitch treated her with unwavering respect. Jaye knew, with surprising certainty, she would be safe here. The only thing stopping her from staying was the same thing always complicating her life—whether or not a man wanted her around. “I lived in a coed dorm in college.” She clasped her hands behind her back in an attempt to look casual. “Living with you wouldn’t be any different.”