He’d hit the road and headed for Denver. Around midnight he’d checked into a hotel and then admitted to himself that he didn’t even know where Amanda lived. Asking her dad was out of the question. Plus, knocking on her door at one in the morning wouldn’t get him clear-headed answers.
So he’d gotten a semi-decent night’s rest before plunging into the city. The sun had really heated things up since then. His truck sat under a wide-brimmed linden. The shade offered relief while he watched the dealership. Closing time neared for the service department. Amanda was due out any time.
He’d called Josh while he waited, asked him to keep an eye on his shop for as long as Ryan needed to settle his ‘family emergency.’
There. Amanda exited from a side door, heading across the street, on a path right for him. She walked the cement, a back pack swung over her shoulder, her light gray uniform top pulled out from navy work pants, ponytail bouncing with her purposeful stride. Ryan’s attention drifted to the fist she tapped against her leg. A piece of paper was crumpled in her tight grip.
He reached down and pulled the plastic knob to unlatch the hood. How could he explain? Hey Amanda, long time no see. By the way, remember the fatal crash you thought was your fault? Well, it was a simple misunderstanding.
Yeah, right. She’d accept it fine, especially if she had no idea what he was talking about! First he needed to know what she remembered.
Into the poisonous air of the city with exhaust and heated tar from the asphalt, he stepped and came around to the front of his truck. His hand under the panel, he slid the lever and hefted the hot, metal hood. Like opening an oven, the engine released heat that climbed up his body as he pivoted the prop rod.
Keeping his back toward her, he waited until she was a few feet past him. His heart rate took off in a sprint. His hands clenched a stretch of flat steel. How was she going to . . .?
“Excuse me. Miss?”
She stopped, her body held rigid. It wouldn’t turn.
“Sorry to bother you. I saw your uniform and . . . well, can you take a look?” Nothing. She was frozen solid.
This wasn’t a good idea. But he’d come this far, might as well push the limits. “Miss Grease Chimp?”
Her body whipped around. “Who do you—” She gasped. Her eyes were wide expanses, skies of blue. She took a step back. Her hand tightened its hold on the flimsy slip of paper.
No, she hadn’t forgotten him, but what if seeing him here brought it all back? Way to go, genius. He dragged a hand through his hair.
She leaned forward and her eyes squinted under the late sun. “Ryan?”
“How you doing, kid?”
“Ryan? It is you!” She dropped her pack and rushed to him.
He closed his arms around her, his eyes. It was the best he could’ve expected. She smelled the same—Lady Speed Stick and burnt transmission fluid.
She broke the embrace, still beaming. As she scanned his face, she tried to discreetly fold the paper into her front pants pocket. No matter, it didn’t hold the secret he was after. “Wow,” she finally said.
“What?” In an attempt to hold back his panicked heart, he folded his arms across his chest, leaned his hip against the front fender. “Forgot how handsome I was?”
She punched him in the shoulder. “No. What are you now? Twenty-six? Two hundred?” She squinted. “I think I even see a few wrinkles. And I didn’t know there was a face beneath the grease! Are you still working there? At my dad’s old shop?”
He nodded. How else could he remember his responsibility?
She continued to stare. She shook her head. “This is incredible. I mean I haven’t seen you since . . .”
He lowered his arms and tight knots ground together in his lower back.
She laughed. “Forever, I guess. Feels like it, right?”
Great. He took the fender’s support again. It appeared he’d overreacted. Obviously, she hadn’t thought twice about possibly hearing him on the phone two days ago.
“What finally got you out here? I never thought I’d see you in the big city.”
“Gotta check out the sights sometime.” He could tell she wasn’t buying it. “All right, I’m checking up on you. Can’t a guy do that once a decade or so? Besides, I heard what happened.” He reached up and touched her chin, guided her face into the sunlight. Seeing the bruise, he sighed. “I should’ve been here.” It was his job to keep her safe. He’d taught her, kept her happy. Jesus, she was like the closest thing he had to a baby sister. He’d help her if she’d simply open up to him.
“What?” A laugh burst out of her. “As if you could’ve seen this coming.” Her smile faltered as her eyes widened. She glanced to the side.
He dropped his hand. “Amanda, do you know who did this to you?”
She shook her head, still looking away. She shrugged. “Some car thief.” She approached the front of his truck, leaned in to inspect the engine. “So how’re things in Bayfield?”
He joined her but inspected her profile, not interested in his old truck’s motor. Her gaze held onto the engine compartment with driven focus. “Amanda, talk to me. Nothing ever stopped you before.”
She stepped back and surveyed the street. “You know, this isn’t the best place to get into it.”
“All right. Where do you want to go for a burger?”
She shook her head. “Sorry, not now. I already have a date.”
He lifted a brow. “A date? Little Grease Chimp is growing up.”
She rolled her eyes. “Well, an appointment anyway. How about you meet me at my apartment?” She pulled scrap paper out of her pack and jotted down the address. Handing it to him, she asked, “Say around seven-thirty?”
“Sounds like I don’t have a choice.”
She smiled. Her eyes searched his. “It’s real good to see you, Ryan.”
Then why was she running from him? “Yeah.”
She crossed the street, stepped between a couple cars, and disappeared.
He dropped the hood back into its latch. Settling into the driver’s seat, he sighed. Now what? She’d seen him and wasn’t suspicious. It certainly didn’t seem like he’d sparked any long-buried memories. Some car thief attacked her? It sounded like classic Amanda-avoidance, and he could see right through it.
He’d get more answers at Amanda’s apartment than sitting here, guessing at the very little he knew. He hadn’t gained near enough to fix the problem he’d seen in her vulnerable, glass-blue eyes.
He had time on his hands to think and drive again. He reached for the ignition.
~ ~ ~
When she heard Ryan’s truck start, Amanda released a relieved breath.
She opened the door to her Wrangler and cranked down the window, releasing stale air. Hadn’t he done enough? She guessed not, since he was here ‘checking up’ on her.
He had the worst or most unusual timing. She removed the paper from her pocket, stared at it, and then shook her head. It hadn’t been him. She wouldn’t believe it.
She leaned over, stuffed the paper into the glove box. Settling back into the warm cloth of the driver’s seat, she paused at the ignition.
As it stood, Ryan didn’t have a clue. She’d like to keep it that way and clean up her own mess, prove to her self-adopted brother she didn’t need constant protection. There was, however, the man who’d attacked her, suspected she had a hand in what happened five years ago. She shuddered. No matter how many cars she’d fixed, she couldn’t fix that one.
Danielle, I’m so sorry.
Draw him out. Set something up.
She had to get information on the people in her life at the time of Danielle’s crash. Dad wouldn’t work. He’d kept her busy, tried crowding Danielle’s death into a dark, black corner of her mind. It was easier to let him think he�
��d succeeded.
She couldn’t remember a lot of consistent faces except Uncle Jay’s.
She thought of a man with hair the color of aspen bark. His clear, emerald eyes shone with kindness. He’d offered an embrace to her fifteen-year-old version.
When she’d stepped into his arms, he’d said, “Don’t worry. Everything will be perfect from here on out.”
Her dad had two brothers, Jay, the oldest and unmarried, and Jason, Rebecca’s still-married father.
Uncle Jay had been prominent in Amanda’s life back then. While Dad had been arranging everything, Uncle Jay had taken care of her. Amanda would make him her first stop, and if he didn’t pan out, she had Ryan on the back burner. Her eyes fell on the glove box as one last thought occurred to her. The note had gone through the night-drop box. She considered a third man who could help, who could get a facial shot of the man who was choosing now to torment her with abduction and a threatening letter. As if she hadn’t suffered enough.
Adam, the night security with chocolate-brown eyes, had no idea where Amanda came from, and it didn’t seem to matter to him. He’d be the easiest to keep in the dark. She reached for her cell and dialed up her cousin first.
No answer. Amanda left a voicemail. “Hey, Rebbie. I invited an old friend over. You might remember him, Ryan from Bayfield? He worked at my dad’s old shop? Anyway, I’m going to be late. After I talk to Uncle Jay, I need to come back to the dealership. Thanks, cuz.”
~ ~ ~
“Gee, thanks for the warning, cuz.” And for assuming her busy college roommate could put her life on hold to play hostess. Rebecca simmered. After trading her gray sweats for a pair of skinny jeans and slipping on a loose, blue long-sleeve over her tank top, she tackled the living area, consolidating book stacks and papers.
Ryan Foster . . . he was the mechanic at Uncle Jim’s old shop. Her memory compiled an image from when her family had last visited Bayfield. Upon seeing Ryan, well, what reaction would one expect when an adolescent girl watched a hard-working, older teenage boy? His lean arms tightened as he levered tools against bolts. His thick brown hair brushed his ears, tamed with a run-through by his callused hands. There was the special quirk in his smile that made her insides tingle, only seen when Amanda displayed her carefree childish side. Oh yes, Rebecca had a decent recollection of Ryan.
She shrugged it off, carrying a stack of books over to the corner. She’d seen her fair share of the mechanic type since then, thanks to Amanda’s career choice.
I think I’ll pass on the distraction. She relied on the academic side of things, an old habit used to hide from high school drama. And she couldn’t forget this was Amanda’s friend. Besides, he wouldn’t be staying long.
It was settled. Logic cleared it all up. So why, when the doorbell chimed reasonably, did her heart flip and take off at a faster pace?
She headed for the door, leaving a few papers on a cushion. A hard-backed chair performed the job of side table to the sofa.
Even the distorted view from the door’s peephole managed to quake the foundation of her intellectual outlook. The ear-length, heavy-brown hair hadn’t changed in five years. His green-hazel eyes seemed to gaze off into the distance as a slight frown formed on his tempting lips.
Her lungs shortened and something bubbled inside, something like excitement. Well done, Rebecca, she thought. Now what?
She searched for answers while her hand went for the cold, metal doorknob. Grasping for a deep breath, she removed the final barrier between herself and distraction. She stayed silent and waited.
His mouth opened, ready to greet Amanda no doubt, but he seemed to have lost the words. A moment passed as his eyes searched her face. Could he possibly remember her? “Hi.” He’d found one coherent word.
“Hi.” She proved herself just as proficient.
He stepped back from her and re-surveyed the building and parking lot. “I might have the wrong place.”
Nope, she sighed, he didn’t. “You’re looking for Amanda.”
He nodded. The quirk almost appeared, twitched at his firm mouth. “That’s right.”
She ignored her fluttery stomach. “She’s not here.”
His eyes returned to her. When they began a new scrutiny, she turned, leaving the door open and heading to the closet. The soft green in his hazel eyes had proved too much for her. She pulled out her tennis shoes and sat in the lawn chair to lace up. “Amanda called, told me to expect you. And to tell you she’d be late.”
“You know, you’re starting to look familiar.”
The entryway shrunk as he stepped inside and closed the door. She dropped the first laced shoe, found his face. “Rebecca Hudson. I’m her cousin.”
“You’ve been to Bayfield before.”
“A couple times.” She finished off the other shoe. She couldn’t leave fast enough. The scent of gear oil mixed with fresh mountain air might overwhelm her feigned lack of interest. The hard-working man infiltrated her body’s womanly interests.
“Look, make yourself at home. I’m sure Amanda will be back soon.”
“You look like you’re in a hurry.”
“Yeah, well, I wanted to squeeze in a stroll before it got dark.” She took a breath and straightened from the chair.
He hadn’t moved, she knew, but she hadn’t realized how close he stood. She gasped, morphed it into a cough then reached for the door. He grabbed it first, opened it.
“Looks like you’re a little late.” The sun had tucked in behind the mountains, leaving a glowing orange backdrop for the peaks.
She shrugged. “It’ll be cooler this way.” Her light fabric long-sleeve should keep the water-loving, bloodsucking bugs off her skin, and the tall grass, yellowed and stiff from the dry heat couldn’t get past the denim covering her legs.
“I should come with you. Never know what’s out there.”
“I can handle it. The bats don’t have anything on me.”
The quirk at the corner of his mouth announced itself fully and lifted away her breath. “Yeah, well, I’ve been stuck in a truck most of the day. I’m not interested in getting stuck in another small space.”
She watched his eyes take in the condensed living and dining area.
It wasn’t going to get any bigger with both of them there. “Okay.” Let’s get a move on. She headed down the steps, heard the sound of a closing door behind her. Her shoulders dropped when she heard his step behind her. Her wish for solitude after a day of classes and city would go unfulfilled.
Twilight burgeoned. She grimaced at the heat contained in the city, from running cars and air conditioners trying to outpace it. At least in the dry environment, sweat didn’t stand a chance of coming between her and her clothes. There was always a wind in Denver.
They waited at the sole stoplight in the neighborhood skirting the foothills. The street ended on the other side of the intersection where she entered a prairie grass park and meandered parallel to a line of cottonwoods bordering the South Platte River.
The river stood to her left, but her eyes drifted to her right. The sparse light kept definition out of his looks. Summer heat aided her attempt at ignoring the energy of his presence.
He didn’t seem interested in words. Good. Silence suited her for a walk. It allowed her to gain a clearer head before roughing up a few books and assignments.
Back toward the river, she spotted a crane, wings pushing it up over the trees. The bird’s dark silhouette circled back in their direction. The wings pumped it higher before stretching wide. The bird glided onward. She closed her eyes and yearned for that sort of freedom but crashed into a solid form on her right. Warm pressure on her back steadied her. Shivers followed the charge racing from where his hand rested. She found herself almost wrapped in Ryan’s arms.
His touch slowly fell away.
“Sorry. I have a tendency to wander. I’m not used to having someone with me on my walks.”
“What about Amanda?”
“Yeah, I’d probably crash into her, too.”
She eyed his profile and caught the moment his lips curved upward in the darkening blue of daylight’s end.
“No, I mean—”
“She’s not into walking, just working. When she does make it home at night, she grunts through her food if I ask about her day, then drops into bed.”
She wasn’t completely sure, but she suspected he might have whispered, “I wonder why.”
Allowing him his secrets, she returned her interest to the park. The sound of water trickled among the rocks. Focusing on it, she let the rushing river and dancing trees, brushed by high breezes, seep into her. Finally she could relax, until her steps started to wander. Her body charted its own course toward him.
Sighing, she forced herself back into line. Accepting she’d have to stay in check, she chose small talk. “It’s been so long. What brings you back?”
“Amanda’s attack. How has she been since then?”
“Amanda’s been . . . Amanda. If there’s something off, she’s keeping it well-hidden.”
“Yeah, I remember she had a knack for that.”
The thin trace of negative called her attention. His eyes reflected the dying light. The rest of his face stayed unreadable, fading into nighttime’s approaching shadow.
“Time to turn around.”
He nodded. “She’s probably made it back by now.”
“One can only hope.”
Rebecca tensed under his searching gaze. He was probably attempting to decipher her meaning. Let him wonder, she thought.
A Running Heart Page 6