She dragged herself out of bed again and took a quick shower while Rufus snarfed down a bowl of dry cat food and tried to out-yowl the intruder in the mirror. By the time Laurel dried her hair and loaded the car, he was ready for a morning nap. She filled up at the gas station next to the motel and bought a cup of coffee and a day-old doughnut before pulling back onto the interstate.
Yesterday’s drizzle still hung in the air and clung to the pavement, causing the semis on the highway to spin off enough spray to keep her windshield wipers busy until she reached Redding and headed into the Sacramento Valley. As the marine layer dissipated, the glimpses of sun gradually grew into blinding rays so bright she had to fumble in the glove compartment for her sunglasses. At Stockton she split off toward San Jose and the coast.
Almost home.
She hadn’t been back to Big Sur, even for holidays, in several years. Something always seemed to get in the way. Either she didn’t have the money, or she couldn’t get enough time off to make the trip. There was always some excuse. She missed her family, but her sisters were busy with their own lives, and her mother spent nearly every waking moment running Earthly Delights, her vegetarian restaurant. Six months ago, Laurel had called to share the news about her engagement, but since then she’d barely spoken to them.
At this point, she was more outsider than member of the tribe. Still, yesterday morning when the brittle façade of her life had shattered into a thousand pieces, the rocky shoreline and fresh, scented breezes of Monterey County had beckoned like a beacon in the storm. She hadn’t called anyone and had no idea what kind of welcome to expect, but the Cypress Coast was home, and home was where she needed to be.
Shortly after she veered off onto the exit leading to Highway 1, an overwhelming sense of familiarity and comfort filled her. She lowered the windows as she drove through a towering grove of eucalyptus trees and perked up at the sinus-clearing fragrance. She was getting closer. The trees changed to coastal oaks and pines, and the flat grassland of the valley gave way to hills and artichoke fields as she neared the coast. The air changed, too. Every whiff brought fresh hints of sage and sea that relaxed her more thoroughly than the most expensive aromatherapy session.
Shortly after she merged onto the coastal highway, her burst of euphoria took a nosedive when the car shimmied. Laurel tightened her grasp on the wheel as it jerked in her hands.
What the—?
Clunk. Clunk. Clunk, clunk, clunk.
Her stomach clenched. No! Not when she was so close.
Clunk, clunk, clunk, clunk.
The noise woke Rufus, and he yowled. She pulled onto the shoulder just in time to see a wheel bounce past the passenger’s side window and head for the nearest sand dune. She shoved the door open and jumped out, staring as the tire rolled through patches of purple and green ice plant toward the beach. Suddenly the little car lost its balance and tipped backward and to the right, bringing a fresh howl from the back seat.
A stiff onshore breeze ruffled her hair, and she shivered and pulled up the zipper on her navy jacket. She should try to retrieve the runaway tire, but then what? A fresh spurt of anger bubbled up. A normal woman could call AAA, but Laurel wasn’t a member because Richard had insisted on handling all matters related to their automobiles, the same way he’d handled everything else.
Her eyes stung with the threat of tears, and she blinked several times in an effort to hold them back. She refused to cry. Even though he couldn’t see her, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. But after everything that had happened yesterday, and the lack of sleep last night, her nerves were stretched past the breaking point. A defiant tear escaped and slid down the side of her nose before she dashed it away.
She needed a tow truck and a garage. She could find a local company on her phone, but would they be honest, or would they try to cheat her because she was a woman alone? She mentally cursed Richard for making her so dependent and herself for allowing it.
She turned on the emergency flashers and stared at the cars whizzing by on the highway. Maybe someone would stop. Maybe the Highway Patrol would happen by. Should she call 9-1-1?
She was toying with the idea of calling one of her sisters when a red pickup that had seen better days pulled in behind her, and a tall, sturdy man with thick, light brown hair got out. His khaki cargo shorts and dark blue T-shirt with a drawing of Albert Einstein in sunglasses marked him as a tourist. It couldn’t be more than fifty-five degrees out. Anyone with sense would be wearing a sweatshirt or jacket. Laurel grasped the open door of her lopsided little car as he approached.
“Are you hurt?”
She brushed wind-tossed bangs from her eyes. “No. I’m okay…I guess.”
A blood-curdling scream erupted from inside her car, causing them both to jump.
The man stared at the Beetle. “What was that? Is someone in the car injured?”
She opened the door and stuck her head inside to make sure Rufus wasn’t hurt. She was greeted by a pair of angry green eyes and another furious yowl. “I’m sorry about this, buddy—really I am. We’ll be home soon. I promise. Try to hang in there a little longer.”
She withdrew and straightened. “No one’s injured. It’s Rufus, and he’s fine. Mad, but fine.”
The man took a couple of steps forward and glanced in the back window at the top of the blue plastic kennel. “What is Rufus? A tame banshee?”
“He’s a cat, but he thinks he’s a lion. That’s his roar.”
Her would-be rescuer stepped back from the car and rubbed his jaw. “He sounds more like a scalded demon.”
“I wouldn’t let him hear you say that. He takes his image and reputation very seriously.”
One corner of his mouth quirked up in a half-smile. “Good to know. I’ll keep that in mind.”
“At any rate, thanks for stopping.”
“You’re welcome, Miss...?”
She offered her hand. “Laurel McDowell.”
His big hand engulfed hers in a strong grip. “Jake Carlson. Let’s see what happened to your wheel.”
She followed him around the car to the gaping wheel well. “I don’t know what happened. It just fell off.”
“Wheels don’t just fall off.”
“That’s what I thought, but I watched it roll past the window and down that hill.”
His gaze followed her gesture toward the beach. “I’ll go get it. Then we’ll see what we can do.”
She watched him half-slide down the soft sand dune until he reached the bottom where the errant wheel lay on its side. After a couple of tries, he hefted it and started back up the hill at a slower pace. By the time he reached her, his forehead was damp despite the chilly breeze.
As Jake squatted beside the car to examine the wheel, Laurel bent over to get a better look. She had no idea what she was looking for, and all she saw was a big, empty space with some kind of metal rod sticking out. “Can you fix it?”
“That depends. Any idea what happened to your lug nuts?”
“My what?”
“The big nuts that hold the wheel on. I picked one up over there.” He gestured toward the guard rail. “But the rest are probably scattered between here and wherever you came from.”
“Seattle.”
His brows shot up. “That’s a long way to drive with loose lug nuts. When was the last time you checked them?”
What kind of question is that? “I’ve never checked them. Why would I? I didn’t even know what they were.”
He flexed his knees and stood. “If you’re going to drive a car, you have to be responsible for the safety of your vehicle.”
Anger heated her cheeks. There was no denying Jake Carlson was a good-looking man, with piercing blue eyes and long, well-muscled limbs sticking out of his ridiculous T-shirt and shorts. He seemed nice enough, and she was grateful he’d stopped, but she was in no mood for a lecture, especially from a complete stranger. “Someone else insisted on taking that responsibility.”
“Your husband?”
/>
She shook her head with vehemence.
He shrugged. “Well, whoever it was did a lousy job.”
You’ll get no argument here. “Agreed, but that hardly matters now. Can you fix it?”
“Not with one nut. The wheel would fall off again before you drove a mile.”
Laurel glanced across the highway at the row of single-story commercial buildings on the other side of the whizzing traffic. “I don’t suppose you know where I could find the closest gas station or garage.”
His frown conveyed disapproval. “I don’t like the idea of dropping you at some random gas station. It isn’t safe. Where were you headed when this happened?”
“About fifty miles down the coast. A restaurant in Big Sur called Earthly Delights. I’m sure you’ve never heard of it.”
He surveyed her with an unreadable expression. “As it happens, I’m headed there now. I’ll give you a ride.”
CHAPTER TWO
Jake frowned when the slender redhead eased away from him as if he were a hungry mountain lion or an escaped serial killer. What did she think he was going to do—hack her to pieces on the shoulder of one of the busiest highways in the state of California in the middle of the afternoon?
She took another step back. “That’s okay. I don’t need a ride. Just point me in the direction of the nearest garage, or I can call the Highway Patrol.”
His lips compressed. “There’s no need for that. You’re safe with me. I’m an accountant.”
Auburn brows rose over ice blue eyes fringed in sable, and he thought he detected a hint of amusement before skepticism overrode it.
Her lips twitched. “Yeah, right. I don’t think so.”
“I am. I swear.”
“Whatever you are, I don’t get into cars with strange men.”
He couldn’t argue the wisdom of that principle, but he also wasn’t used to women cringing from him in fear. He’d always been one of the good guys. Then something occurred to him, and he eyed her with a calculating gaze. “What did you say your name was?”
She stiffened, hesitating, then flicked the tip of her tongue over her lips. “Laurel.”
“McDowell, wasn’t it?”
She nodded and glanced at her purse on the floor of the passenger’s side of the car. For Pete’s sake, was she trying to gauge whether she could grab it fast enough to call 9-1-1 before he stopped her?
Jake shook his head, then pulled out his phone and handed it to her. “Here, call Sage.”
Laurel started, and her eyes widened. “You know my sister?”
“I told you, I’m headed to Earthly Delights. I live near there—I know your whole family.”
She accepted the phone with reluctance and punched in a number. After a minute or so, she disconnected. “There’s no answer.”
“Try Angelica.”
She did, with the same result.
He ran a hand through his hair and let out a huff of frustration. “Oh, for the love of…I hate to bother her, but call your mom at the restaurant.”
Laurel’s pretty blue eyes narrowed. “I don’t remember the number.” She thrust the phone back at him. “I’ll have the police call a tow truck.”
With a short, muttered curse, he grabbed the phone and placed a quick call. “Rosemary, it’s Jake Carlson. Your daughter has had car trouble up in Sand City, and I’m trying to give her a ride.”
Rosemary’s usually cheerful voice held a note of concern. “Which daughter? Sage and Angelica should both be at work.”
“It’s Laurel.”
Rosemary’s concern turned to frank surprise. “Laurel? What’s she doing in Sand City?”
“She says she’s on her way to the restaurant. You weren’t expecting her?”
“No. I hope nothing’s wrong.”
He glanced at Laurel. “As far as I know, it’s only her car, but you can ask her yourself in an hour or so if you’ll tell her I’m not an axe murderer so we can be on our way.” He handed Laurel the phone and folded his arms across his chest.
“Mom?”
Even from a few feet away, he could hear the faint sounds of Rosemary’s voice peppering her daughter with questions.
“It was kind of a spur-of-the-moment decision.” Laurel rubbed the back of her neck and let out a sigh. “Yes, I plan to stay for Thanksgiving…A wheel fell off…No, I’m fine.”
Jake tapped impatient fingers against his crossed arms. She would have plenty of time to fill her mother in on the whole story after he delivered her safe and sound.
“So, I should let him give me a lift?” Laurel’s voice still held a note of suspicion. “Okay, then. See you soon.”
He held out his hand for the phone. “Do I pass?”
She grimaced. “Apparently I’m being silly.”
“You said it. I didn’t.”
Her rebellious expression suggested she was forcing herself to bite her tongue.
“Let’s get your stuff into my truck. I’ll pick up some lug nuts at Nelvin’s Garage in Carmel and bring you back tomorrow to fix the wheel.”
“Fine.”
He decided to ignore her clipped tone. He wouldn’t be in a good mood either if he’d lost a wheel and was forced to accept a ride from a stranger, although he wouldn’t mind too much if the stranger looked like Laurel McDowell. “If you pop the rear hatch, I’ll get your luggage, but you’re on your own with that monster.”
Rufus yowled louder in a growly, I’m-getting-seriously-annoyed voice as Laurel leaned into the back seat and grabbed the handle of his carrier. She murmured something to him, and he quieted.
By the time she rounded the side of the truck with the cat carrier in one hand, Jake had loaded the errant tire, both her suitcases, and a couple of boxes into the bed. He turned to face her with an armful of loose clothes on hangers and her laptop bag dangling from one shoulder.
With a wry grimace, he glanced down at the jumbled pile then back at her face. “Do you think you brought enough clothes?”
Her fair cheeks flushed rosy pink. “You should have left those for me. I was in a hurry yesterday and didn’t have time to pack properly.”
He regarded her closer. The contents of the Beetle had resembled the aftermath of a tornado more than any kind of packing, proper or not. Had she simply been running late, or was there a more urgent reason she needed to leave Seattle? “How long are you planning to stay?”
Laurel sighed and switched her gaze to the traffic whizzing by on the highway. “I’m moving back.”
When he’d called Rosemary, she’d sounded surprised to hear her daughter was even in the area. “Does your mom know?”
“Not yet.” Her tone was soft and flat.
“I’m sure she’ll be thrilled. So will your sisters.”
“I hope so.”
He shifted the burden in his arms to keep it from sliding to the ground. “When’s the moving van coming?”
“It isn’t.”
Her terse reply reinforced his impression that this move was more impulsive than anticipated relocation. In his experience, women had stuff—lots of stuff. Laurel had almost nothing. Had some guy thrown her out with nothing but her clothes and her cat?
His jaw clenched before he reminded himself her situation was none of his business. Another curse escaped his lips when the pile of clothes almost slid from his grasp as he reached for the door of the truck. “I’ll put these behind the seat. You can put the cat back there, too.”
She hefted the carrier and clutched it to her chest with both arms. “I’d rather hold him on my lap.”
“He’ll be safer in the back.”
“He won’t like it.”
Rufus howled on cue.
Jake shrugged. “He doesn’t seem to like anything, but do whatever you want. I skipped lunch and have been looking forward to your mom’s cooking all afternoon.”
“If we’re too much trouble, I can always call for a tow.”
He raked his fingers through his short, thick hair. “Just get in the t
ruck. Please.”
****
Laurel climbed in without a word, buckled up, and settled the carrier on her lap. As they pulled onto the highway, she cast a worried glance at her forlorn little Bug and wondered if she should have left a note on the windshield. She hated to abandon it. The cheery yellow car had been a college graduation present from her mother and represented Laurel’s first tentative steps into adulthood after the trauma of her father’s sudden death the summer before her senior year in high school.
They rode in silence, except for an occasional outburst from the kitty carrier. Peering out the window at the towering pines of the Del Monte Forest, she began to regret her prickly response to Jake Carlson. He might be a bit abrupt, but he was only trying to help. And her mother seemed to like him, which had to count for something.
She snuck a quick peek at his granite profile. His features matched his personality—solid, straightforward, and unyielding. An all-business, no-frills kind of guy, despite his beach boy attire. His tanned skin and sun-kissed brown hair spoke of a life spent outdoors. Accountant, my Great Aunt Gertrude.
Regardless of his obvious lie, she should try to make amends. She didn’t want him to think her mother had raised a mannerless clod. “I’m sorry if I seemed ungrateful. I really do appreciate your help.”
He kept his gaze focused on the road. “No problem. You were stressed. People are rarely at their best at times like that.”
“That’s a very understanding attitude.”
“I’m used to seeing people at their worst.”
As an accountant? She glanced at his profile again. “I guess people can get pretty stressed about their money.”
“They certainly can.” His fingers tightened on the wheel.
The atmosphere in the truck cab seemed to have darkened, so she tried to lighten the tone. “Well, I’m sure you keep your clients out of trouble.”
“I don’t have clients.”
“You work for a company, then?”
“I work for the government.”
Second Wind (Cypress Coast Book 1) Page 2