Handle with Care (Saddler Cove)

by Nina Croft

  He didn’t want her like that. She had a flashback to the nice platonic peck on the forehead he’d given her last Saturday before he’d left. That was obviously all she could expect from him now. And that was good, because sex would only complicate matters. But oh God, she felt so horny right now. If she could only get a little closer. She wriggled on the seat, pressing closer, trying to ease the throb between her thighs…

  Something was changing. They were pulling over onto the side of the road. Tanner switched off the engine and twisted so he could see her.

  “Are you all right?” he asked. “You were wriggling.”

  Hah. She’d just been about to give herself an orgasm on the back of a bike. So no, things were not all right. In fact—if that ever came to light, she might go up in flames and die of embarrassment. She nodded.

  “Do you need to go to the bathroom or something?” When she didn’t say anything, he continued, “I read that pregnant women need to…you know…pee more often. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable because you’re too embarrassed to mention it.”

  She cleared her throat. “I’m not and I won’t. I was just getting comfortable. I’m good.”

  “Okay.”

  Then they were off again. This time she held on tight, because hey, she wasn’t going to risk falling off, but not that tight. And she watched the scenery. They were driving along the coast road, just passing the bridge to Chincoteague Island. It was the annual pony swim soon, when they swam the wild ponies over from the nearby Assateague Island, and she always went with Mimi, who was on the organizing committee. It was a tradition that had gone on for many years. The wild pony herds of Assateague were thought to be the descendants of a group of horses who were shipwrecked in a Spanish galleon just off the coast hundreds of years ago. They ran wild and proliferated, and each year they were rounded up and swum across the narrow channel between Assateague and Chincoteague. Most of the youngsters were auctioned off—that was where she had bought her mare, Beauty—and the adults returned to Chincoteague. It kept the herd in sustainable numbers and also raised money for the Chincoteague fire department. As well as being a huge tourist draw for the area.

  She somehow managed to switch off after that and relax, letting her mind go blank and just enjoying the brand-new experience of riding on the back of a Harley with a gorgeous guy.

  It was probably thirty minutes later when the bike entered the small coastal town of Freedom Bay. Tanner drove straight through the town and pulled up outside a big double metal gate on the outskirts. “Freddie’s Scrapyard” was written on a faded sign above the gate.

  Tanner parked the bike and switched off the engine. She didn’t think she could move, her legs locked in place, her hands still gripped around his waist like claws. Tanner pulled off his helmet and twisted to look at her. “You can let go now, Emily.” She didn’t move. “I mean, you don’t have to. I kind of like you holding on to me that way.”

  She could hear the amusement in his voice. And she slowly uncurled her fingers from around his waist.

  “Are you okay? I’m sorry about the bike. It was a mistake. I didn’t think…”

  “No, I’m fine. I absolutely loved the ride. In fact, I might pop into the shop and buy one myself any day now.” She unfastened her helmet with fingers that were shaking slightly and tugged it off, ran a hand through her hair.

  “I’ll get you a discount,” he said with a grin. He shifted and somehow managed to swing his leg over and get off the bike without her moving. Which was good. She wasn’t quite ready to move yet.

  He took the helmet from her, then came back, placing a finger under her chin, and at his touch a shiver ran through her. He raised her face, so she looked him in the eye. “You sure you’re okay?”

  “I’m not ill and I’m not delicate. I grew up on a ranch. I’m not going to fall apart.”

  He nodded. “Okay then. Off you get.”

  When she still didn’t move, he smirked, then placed his hands on her waist, lifted her up high, and placed her down on the ground. He kept hold for a minute while her legs steadied, the heat of his palms burning through the denim of her jeans. Probably branding her forever.

  “I’m okay now. I think.”

  “Shit, I’m so irre-fucking-sponsible. I’ll arrange a ride back for you.”

  “No, you won’t. I told you. I loved it. A first. I’m looking forward to the ride back.”

  He studied her for what seemed like a long time and then gave a grudging nod.

  “Tell me about this date,” she said. “A scrapyard? That’s another first for me.”

  He looked slightly shamefaced. “Sorry, I had been planning to take you to dinner at Ben’s place, but Freddie phoned me on Wednesday and told me he had a few items that might be of interest to me coming in this morning. A couple of old bikes I can use for parts on a Harley I’m working on.”

  “Is that what you do? Fix up old bikes?”

  “Mainly I do up vintage Harleys—they can go for more than the new ones if you get it right and authentic.”

  “Wow.” She knew from Mimi that the one she’d been buying had cost a whopping twenty-five thousand. That was a lot of money.

  “So, are you up for grubbing about in the muck and the grease with me?”

  “Is this some sort of test? See what the mother of your baby is made of? You think I can’t get dirty.”

  A slow smile spread across his face. “Hell, babe, I’ve seen you get good and dirty.” Then he shrugged. “But maybe a little. Last week you showed me what your life was like—all la-di-da classical shit. Now it’s my turn.”

  Ha, she’d show him. She’d helped Pete, the handyman at the ranch, fix the machinery from an early age. Passing him wrenches and fetching him tools. She wasn’t scared of a little muck and work. “Lead the way,” she said.

  He took her to the side and through a smaller metal gate that led into a huge yard area absolutely cram-packed with…scrap. Mostly old cars piled on top of each other. A crane and a crusher machine stood to one side but were silent, and the air was heavy with the smells of gas and diesel and rust. A man around Tanner’s age, dressed in gray coveralls, emerged from a small building. A big smile split his face when he saw Tanner, and he hurried across.

  Emily watched as the two men hugged. They parted and stepped back from each other, though a smile stayed on Tanner’s face. He looked relaxed, more relaxed than he ever seemed back in Saddler Cove.

  “Hey, my man, how you doing?”

  “Good,” Tanner replied. “And you?”

  “Business is doing great.” He turned to Emily. “Is this your girl? She looks too good for you.”

  Tanner didn’t say yes or no to that, but at least he didn’t deny it outright. And why did she care? She wasn’t his girl. Didn’t want to be his girl. She stepped forward and held out her hand. “I’m Emily,” she said.

  He took her hand in his much bigger one and shook it vigorously. “Freddie.”

  “Nice to meet you.”

  He turned back to Tanner. “Definitely too good for you.”

  “So where are these bikes?”

  “Follow me.” He led the way across the yard and into a lean-to shed that provided a little shade from the hot sun. Three motorcycles stood there. Even to Emily’s untrained eyes they looked a sorry state, the leather rotted away in places, the paint dull and chipped. Tires torn, one wheel twisted. “A couple of dudes found them moldering away in an old barn after their daddy died. Must have been in there for years. I got the lot for five hundred.”

  Tanner was walking around the bikes, running his fingers over the metalwork almost lovingly.

  “You’re looking a little wistful there, girl,” Freddie said. “You worried Tanner loves his bikes more than you? You can always leave him and go out with me instead.”

  She wasn’t worried because she knew it. “I’ll think about it,” she said.

  “No, you won’t,” Tanner replied, coming back to them and slinging a possessive arm around
her shoulder. “I’ll give you a thousand for whatever I can get off them.”

  He held out his free hand, and Freddie shook it. “It’s a deal.” He nodded across the shed. “There are a couple of crates back there, and help yourself to tools. I’ll leave you to it.”

  She liked the feel of Tanner’s arm around her, the casual possessiveness. She didn’t like that she liked it. But she would worry about that later.

  “He seems nice,” she said.

  “I met him inside. Doing two years for grand theft auto.”

  “Oh.” She looked around. “The bikes aren’t stolen, are they?” She didn’t want Tanner getting into trouble. She might cope with the father of her baby being an ex-con, but not an actual convict.

  He cast her a look of disbelief. “Who the hell would steal this pile of crap? Come on, we’ve got work to do.”

  And he wasn’t lying. For the next few hours, they worked. She handed him tools when he asked, put things in the crate. Even added a bit of muscle on a particularly stiff bolt.

  Freddie had brought them mugs of coffee at one point and lingered while they drank it. “I hear Josh got his parole at last. He’s working for you?”

  “Yeah. A few weeks now.”

  “He settling in all right?”

  “Not sure. You should come over, have a drink one night. Might cheer him up to see a familiar face.”

  “Yeah, like some sort of old school reunion. Sweet. But maybe I will one night.” He turned to Emily. “Hey, did you know about Tanner’s time away? Am I telling stories I shouldn’t?”

  “Emily knows. She’s from Saddler Cove.”

  He grinned. “You fraternizing with the enemy now?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, I’d say it’s worth it for this one. Now, I’ll leave you two to work. Let me know when you’re ready to leave.”

  Finally the two crates were full, and all that was left was a pile of metal and moldy leather. Tanner straightened from his hunkered position and stretched, raising his arms above his head and revealing a strip of golden skin and ridged abs at his waist as his T-shirt rose up. She tried not to stare. Really, she did. But holy moly he was hot. Hottest thing she had ever seen.

  She wiped her sweaty palms down her thighs. The sun was nearly down, but her temperature was up.

  “You’ve got oil on your clothes,” he pointed out.

  “So do you. And on your face.”

  “Yeah, but the last time you had oil on your clothes you stripped off right in front of me.”

  She snorted. “Yes, and look what happened. The end of my life as I know it.”

  His face closed up, and the smile blanked from his eyes. “I’m sorry for that. For fucking up your life, I mean. I have a habit of doing that.”

  “Don’t be so melodramatic. According to Mimi, my life needed to change.”

  “I bet she didn’t envisage this scenario, though.”

  “Well, she should have. You do know she set us up, right?”

  “What?”

  “She didn’t like Ryan, and she thought I needed a fling—a little excitement in my life. So she went and bought a motorcycle, knowing I would go straight over to your place and call you out on it.”

  “Really?” He sounded skeptical.

  “Yes, really. She confessed last week after I told her I was pregnant. Apparently, she was worried about me—with my boring little life.”

  “She probably wasn’t expecting a baby, though.”

  “No, she probably thought a man like you would never get caught out like that.”

  He frowned. “A man like me?”

  “Well, you do have a bit of a reputation. My God, you had the harem in high school.”

  “The what?” He looked bewildered.

  “That’s what they called them, your little—well, actually not so little—group of girlfriends.”

  “I was eighteen.” He scrubbed a hand through his hair. “I can’t believe this. Your gran set us up. The devious…”

  “Get used to it.”

  He blew out his breath, obviously deciding to change the subject. “You like crabs?” he asked.

  She nodded. “I love crabs! I’ve had to cut back, because too much seafood is bad for the baby.”

  “Sure? Maybe we shouldn’t—”

  “Some is fine, though” she interrupted. She’d told the truth—crabs were her favorite. “Honest. Some is good.”

  “Well, I know where we can get the sweetest crabs in the whole of Virginia. And they won’t care if you’ve got a bit of dirt on you. Plus, it’s on the way home.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Josh shoved his hands into his pockets as he walked away from the diner, trying to decide if he was pissed off or relieved.

  Tanner had told him the rumors going around—that he was some sort of serial killer and likely to murder everyone in their beds. But it was Saturday night, and Tanner had said he needed to get out more. Mix with people. Though he hadn’t seen Tanner doing much mixing with the population of Saddler Cove.

  Most of the customers at the shop came from out of town—they had developed an excellent reputation, and the business was doing well. Which was good. At least it meant he didn’t have to worry that Tanner had made up the job. Was paying him money he couldn’t afford. He was kept busy. Which he liked—stopped him thinking too much.

  So he’d decided to go out for dinner. Which was a first. He’d chosen the diner, as the other restaurants in town were way too fancy. But when he’d stepped through the door, the place had gone quiet. And he’d almost turned around and walked out again. Except he was hungry.

  Then a waitress with dark hair and dark eyes, in a pink dress with a name tag across her chest—María José—had sidled up to him as though he might produce an axe from under his shirt at any moment and start hacking the whole joint to pieces. She’d told him they were full-up, when it was clear the place was half empty.

  He’d thought about making some sort of comment. But he couldn’t really blame them. He was outside their comfort zone. And he could tell Tanner he’d tried.

  Or maybe he wouldn’t tell Tanner, because he might come over here and make a fuss, and that was the last thing Josh wanted or needed.

  In the end, he’d turned around and walked out without a word and had almost heard the sighs of relief as he opened the door.

  He was relieved, too, he decided. On balance. He’d go back to the apartment, make a sandwich, and drive the truck to the beach. Tanner had given him a lesson, left him a set of keys, told him he could use the truck whenever he wanted.

  “Josh.”

  Someone called out his name from behind him. And he stopped, more out of shock than anything else. A woman’s voice. He didn’t know any women. Didn’t know anyone except Tanner and his two brothers and a couple of mechanics who also worked in the garage. And it definitely wasn’t any of those.

  He turned slowly. It was the woman who’d visited the shop a couple of weeks back. The one who’d told him to call her Mimi.

  She was beautiful, tall and slender, with black hair and green eyes. And she’d seemed…nice. Quirky but nice. And a little crazy. She’d been pissed off that Tanner had cancelled her order for a Harley. And she’d invited him to visit. He’d guessed she wanted to do some therapy on him. Thought he needed saving. He’d met plenty like that in prison. Do-gooders who were actually incapable of doing any fucking good at all.

  Tonight, she was wearing faded jeans that clung to her slender figure and were tucked into fancy cowboy boots. And a black T-shirt with a silver horse’s head.

  What did she want?

  She came to a halt in front of him and smiled. “Joshua. I was just coming to the shop.”

  “Tanner’s not here right now. He’s out.”

  “I know. Out with my granddaughter, actually.”

  That was interesting. “She a pretty little thing—blond—dresses like a school teacher?”

  “Sh
e is a school teacher.”

  “Figures.”

  That was the woman Tanner had slowed down for that first night. It looked like Tanner had a girlfriend. He’d kept quiet about that. Then what she’d said sank in a little further. “So why were you coming to the shop?”

  “To see you, of course.”

  “To see me about what?”

  She shrugged. “I was alone, and I presumed you were similarly alone, and I thought we might go to the diner, have some food.”

  He just stopped short of scratching his head. “Why?”

  “Because that’s what people do.”

  “Not that I’ve noticed. Not in this town.” What the hell did she want from him?

  “That’s because they are afraid of you. This is a small town, and most people are a little intimidated by anyone who’s…”

  “A serial killer?” he suggested. “Maybe they’re right to be afraid.”

  “Don’t be silly—I know you’re not a serial killer. I was going to say different from them. So, what do you say?”

  “About what?”

  “Joining me in the diner for a meal where we can talk like civilized people.”

  “The diner’s full,” he said.

  Her black brows drew together. “The diner is never full.”

  “It is tonight. Waitress told me so herself.”

  Her eyes widened as she thought about that and no doubt came to the correct conclusion. “Really. Well, we’ll see about that. Come along.”

  “No.”

  She’d half turned, now she paused, turned back. “No?”

  “I ain’t going back there. And I don’t plan to be your good deed for the week. I’ll see you around, ma’am.”

  “It’s Mimi. And I can see that you really haven’t talked to many people in this town. I am not a do-gooder.” She pursed her lips. “I was lonely.”

  The admission made him hesitate. Not many people would own up to being lonely. Did he believe her? But why the hell would she lie about something like that? And for what purpose? He didn’t believe for a second that she wanted to spend time with him.

  “I’m sure you have lots of friends in town.”