Turn Up the Heat

by Kimberly Kincaid

  Shane had already given the fast-talking manager at the distributing warehouse his best shot, trying to nice-guy him into putting a rush on the order. But Bellamy’s new transmission was stuck in the same snowstorm that was currently doing its damnedest to sideline a good chunk of the East Coast. Far be it for Shane to mess with Mother Nature. That tranny would just have to wait, and irritated or not, Bellamy would have to wait right along with it.

  Making sure the ringer on the phone was turned up high, Shane flipped the radio on. Bach’s Cello Suite No. 1 drifted from the speakers, loosening the morning’s grip on his muscles. He looked at the Mustang, its lines stark in the overcast shadows thrown through the windows, and something tightened in his chest. Running his palm down the driver’s side quarter panel, he walked alongside the car with reverence, taking his time to look at it from every angle.

  He knew the money he’d get from working on Bellamy’s car was a temporary fix, a delay of the inevitable. The Mustang would have to go, and even then, it wouldn’t be nearly enough. When he’d come to Pine Mountain, there were no grand illusions, no intentions of anything permanent. No plans for it to become what Shane had known, deep down, he’d been made for from the beginning.

  Funny thing about life. Sometimes it did its own thing and you were just at its mercy, hoping you came out okay once the dust cleared. Of course, there was one way Shane could make the whole thing disappear, erase the problem as if it had never existed and right the debt he’d struggled to repay.

  No. The option was a non-option. He’d sell the car; hell, he’d sell everything he owned including the shirt off his back before he sold the one thing that meant the most to him.

  After all, his soul was the only thing Shane had that he couldn’t buy back.

  Shane popped the hood and started tinkering with the car, just grateful to have it under his hands. It was harder than usual to slip into a calming groove, but after a while, his mind let go and he gave in to the feel of the sleek steel and intricate details, as if he could memorize them by touch.

  A dual slice of halogen high beams cut through the front windows of the garage, snapping his head up in surprise. He squinted through the glass, trying to make out the vehicle in the lot.

  “Jackson. Gotta be,” Shane muttered, pushing off from the car.

  Jackson had called about an hour ago to say he’d left his wallet behind when he’d tossed it on the workbench to help Shane spread salt. He was probably coming by in the plow to grab it. The snow was really coming down now, so whoever it was had to be driving one hell of a truck, or better yet, a tank. The mountain roads were merciless in bad weather, even for the locals. Without four wheel drive, you didn’t have much beyond a prayer.

  The side door banged open on a gust of wind, and Shane’s brows nearly lifted off the top of his head at the sight before him. Bellamy Blake stood as tall as her five-foot-six frame would let her, with her hands on her hips and her slush-coated boots planted firmly over the concrete floor. Big, fluffy snowflakes lay scattered throughout her blond curls, and her face was flushed through with what looked like an even mix of anger and cold.

  “What do you mean you’ve run into a problem?” she demanded, pressing her lips into a thin line.

  Shane opened his mouth, but his vocal cords were noncompliant. Had she seriously driven here in the middle of a snowstorm to pick a fight with him over her car?

  And was he seriously turned on beyond measure at the sight of her?

  “The parts are in Ohio,” Shane managed, and she narrowed her eyes on him.

  “But you said they’d be shipped today,” she said, her voice shaking ever so slightly.

  Shane rebounded, gesturing toward the windows. “Well, yeah, before Armageddon out there changed course. The trucks are all snowed in, Bellamy. They can’t leave until the storm stops. Getting here—getting anywhere—on mountain roads in weather like this is next to impossible.” He served her with a disbelieving stare. “Did you actually come out here in the middle of a snowstorm to argue with me about your car?”

  Bellamy didn’t flinch. “Yes. Is that . . . Beethoven?” Her face crinkled in confusion, and she turned to stare at the old radio as if she’d never seen one before in her life.

  “Bach. How the hell did you get here?” Shane took a few steps toward her to look out the window at the side lot.

  “Jenna’s BMW.”

  God, she was certifiable. She could’ve been killed a dozen ways in this weather in a car like that. “Do you have any idea how dangerous that is?”

  “I already have a mother, thanks. So what do I have to do to get the transmission here?” The stubborn look returned to her face with a vengeance.

  Shane laughed without humor. “You have to wait, that’s what.”

  “But you said Friday!”

  “Jesus, Bellamy! I’m good, but I can’t control the goddamn weather!”

  The tears that filled her eyes took him by complete surprise.

  “One thing,” she murmured in a voice so quiet that Shane barely heard her. “All I wanted was one thing out of this whole disastrous week to go right. I can’t even get stranded in the mountains without it blowing up in my face.” She closed her eyes and took a deep, trembling breath. “I’m sorry I came out here to yell at you. I just . . . I just . . .” Tears started to flow from beneath Bellamy’s closed eyelids, and her breath made her chest hiccup under the cream-colored sweater she wore. “I’ll be at the resort. Just call me when you have an update.”

  “Bellamy, wait.” Shane took a couple more steps toward her, until he was within arm’s reach. “You can’t drive back to the resort in weather like this. You’ll never make it.” The wind howled, rattling the windowpanes for good measure.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I made it here just fine,” she said, but there was no fire in her voice. She turned her face from his, presumably to hide her tears.

  He stepped right in front of her. “You don’t look just fine.”

  All the heat he’d felt when he’d seen her standing in the doorway coalesced into something a lot softer but just as strong, and Shane’s hands moved before he could register the thought that he’d commanded them to.

  “I’m sorry about your car.” Without thinking, he lifted a hand and brushed a tear from her cheek with the pad of his thumb.

  Her eyes jerked open and flew to his, and he froze. “I, uh. I didn’t mean to, well. You know.”

  Ah, hell. He shouldn’t have touched her.

  But then she leaned against his shoulder, fighting the sobs even as they escaped from her chest, and Shane was powerless not to put his arms around her and gather her in.

  I am a simpering idiot.

  The thought crossed Bellamy’s mind, somewhere in the way back, but it was drowned out by the moronic bawling she just couldn’t stop. Shane put his arms around her, steady and unyielding, which only egged the waterworks on.

  “I could handle the stupid Derek thing, you know? That would’ve been fine. It is fine,” she rambled into Shane’s chest. “And my boss, I don’t know, ex-boss, I guess. If I hadn’t lost my cool, that would’ve been okay, I could’ve sucked it up.” More shaky breathing, during which Shane patted her hair. Oh, God, here came more tears. “But I really do hate my career, even if I couldn’t admit it until now, so where does that leave me? And now, with the car, I just heard your message and snapped. I have no control over anything, and it’s just . . . it’s . . .”

  Nope. She was no good. The tears took over, and Bellamy couldn’t do anything but let them have their way as she blubbered into Shane’s chest.

  “Okay. Hey, it’s okay,” he whispered into her hair, squeezing his arms around her shoulders and enveloping her with that intoxicating, woodsy scent.

  Bellamy’s throat knotted around another sob. “It is so not okay! I have no job, I hate my chosen field, and my ex-boyfriend is a consummate ass. I’m stuck in the mountains, which probably wouldn’t be too bad, except that I’m standing here like a total
basket case, bawling over something I can’t control.” Surely, the ground was late for its cue to open up and swallow her whole. Bellamy gave a loud, ungraceful sniffle, followed by a groan. “And I’m getting snot on your shirt!”

  Shane’s chest rumbled beneath her cheek, and her head sprang up in shock.

  “Are you laughing at me?”

  Shane pulled his head back and blanked his expression, but his twinkling eyes gave him away. “No! Not at all.”

  But it was kind of funny. In a pathetic meltdown kind of way.

  “You totally are,” she accused without anger, a tiny smile dancing on her mouth.

  Shane’s cough was completely contrived as he tried to cover up a laugh. “Okay, but only about the snot thing, I swear.”

  Oh, crap! She yanked her arms out from around him and covered her face with both hands, realizing that now she had no recourse but to wipe her disgusting nose with either her fingers or her sleeve. Could she get any more downright gross? Now he probably thought she was off her rocker and had terrible hygiene.

  He laughed again, this time out loud. “Come on. There’s a bathroom in the office.”

  Bellamy shook her head, trying to surreptitiously give her nose a delicate swipe with her fingers. “I’m really sorry. I’m such a jerk.” She followed him through the garage, and he stepped back to usher her into the small office.

  “Tell you what. Let’s call it a draw, since I was a jerk the other night. What do you say? Truce?”

  She nodded and sniffled. “Truce.”

  “You won’t be offended if I wait until after you’ve washed your hands to shake on it, will you?” The corners of his mouth kicked up into a smirk.

  “You’re funny.” Bellamy tried her damnedest to glower, but she was chuckling too hard.

  Shane’s laughter eased into a smile. “Take your time, okay?”

  After doing a decent enough salvage job on her appearance, she washed her hands twice for good measure and walked back out into the garage.

  “I made a pot of coffee, if you want some.” Shane jutted his five o’clock shadow at the coffeepot sitting on the workbench. The aroma wafting from it was pure heaven.

  “That sounds great.” She leaned against the bench with one hip while he poured. “So are you really not going to let me drive Jenna’s car back to the resort?”

  He sent out a look that suggested she was nuts. “Have you seen the drop-off over the guardrails on the main road?”

  Bellamy swallowed hard at the memory of the steep slopes. Okay, so it might be a teensy bit dangerous now that the snow was really coming down. But still, it wasn’t as if she could walk back to the resort. “Well, how am I supposed to get back, then?”

  “I can take you in the truck. I’m going to head out of here pretty soon anyway. I can’t do anything without those car parts, and it looks like it’s only getting worse out there.” As if on cue, the wind battered the side of the garage, gusting snow against the wall in an angry scatter.

  Bellamy shivered and threaded her fingers around the coffee mug Shane had offered her. “Does it snow like this a lot up here?”

  “Yeah, but it’s not usually the national crisis that everyone in the city makes it out to be.”

  “Considering that snowplows in Philly are a dime a dozen, you’d think getting dumped on there wouldn’t be such a big deal,” she agreed. “Although this storm looks kind of nasty.”

  “Yeah, we had one just before Christmas that was about this bad.” He paused, his dark eyes resting on her. “You’ll probably be stuck here for another day or so, regardless of the transmission thing. That Beamer won’t make it anywhere until the roads are cleared.”

  She sighed. At this point, the only thing she had to look forward to was filing for unemployment. And telling her parents she’d impulsively quit her job. Ugh. On second thought, let it snow. “Jenna and Holly will need to get back, and now they’re my only way home. I’ll have to find a way to come back and get it when you’re done, I guess.” Her eyes swept the space around them, settling on the car he’d been working on both times she’d arrived at the garage. “It won’t be taking up space you need, will it?”

  Shane shrugged and gave a smile, only it seemed forced. “I think you’ll be fine.” He looked at the car again, his eyes lingering, and hers followed.

  The metal was the uneven dark gray of primer, and although it was clearly a sports car, it was nothing like her zippy little Miata. No, this car had a rough, masculine edge to it, more leather-jacket tough than two-seater flashy.

  “So, the quitting your job thing is recent, then?” Shane asked, pulling her back to earth. He hooked his thumb through a belt loop, leaning against the rough wooden workbench.

  Her lips popped open in surprise, but she didn’t shy away from the question. Better to start facing the music. “Well, that depends. Is this morning recent enough for you?”

  His eyes widened with momentary shock. “I’d say so.” He waited another beat before asking the dreaded question. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  Bellamy meant to open her mouth to offer a heartfelt thanks but no thanks. It was really nice of him to offer to listen to her crap, but there were probably forty-two things he’d rather be doing than listening to a relative stranger do the woe-is-me song and dance.

  But then she caught Shane’s eyes, open and unpretentious and smolderingly sexy, and the words that crossed her lips were definitely not thanks but no thanks.

  “Wait, wait. Let me get this straight. Your boss called you in the middle of a dentist’s appointment and was pissed you didn’t answer while you were getting your teeth cleaned?” Shane’s forehead creased as disbelief took over his features.

  Bellamy nodded and leaned back in the lone chair Shane had dragged out of the office for her to sit on. She flipped her hand up to signal scout’s honor. “Yeah. Her rationale was that my ears still worked just fine. I’m sure she thought it was a bonus that I couldn’t exactly protest, either.” She shrugged, propping her empty coffee cup on one knee.

  From where he sat, perched on the workbench with his boots dangling over the edge, Shane shook his head. “Okay, truth?” he asked, still giving her a look as though she might be pulling his leg.

  She wished. Bosszilla had given her such a hard time about that stupid call, too. “You haven’t learned the answer to this question yet?”

  “Right, of course.” He nodded, sending his black hair over his eyes before he flipped it back with a nonchalant toss. “It sounds like you’re way better off without that job.”

  Her insides gave a little quake, but it was less scary than the full-on fear tremors she’d had earlier. “Yeah, remind me of that when the bills come rolling in. I mean, I have some money saved, but the reality is, I wasn’t really happy there even before my terrible boss came onto the scene.”

  Shane opened his mouth to answer her, but was cut off by the shrill electronic ring of the office phone.

  “Ah, that’s probably Grady, calling to see if I’ve left yet,” he said, giving her a guilty look before swinging his legs down from the workbench to grab the phone.

  “God, I’m sorry. It’s been really good of you to put up with my psychoses and all, but we really should get on the road.”

  Shane looked at her over his shoulder. “I’m not worried about the truck handling the snow. Just let me grab this and then I’ll get you back to the resort.”

  Bellamy stood up and stretched her legs, walking over to look out the window at the snow. Thick, fat flakes were still dumping from the sky, and they swirled in brisk drifts over the gravel drive and the road beyond. She squinted through the glass in confusion. The tire tracks she’d left on her way in had been swallowed whole, and as she looked more closely, Bellamy realized she had no idea where the drive ended and the road began.

  And there were easily five inches of snow on both.

  “Uh, Bellamy?”

  She knew without turning around that she wasn’t going to like the look on
Shane’s face. He leaned in the door frame, phone still in his hand, and met her eyes with an oh-shit expression that made her stomach bottom out somewhere around her hips.

  “What? What’s the matter?”

  “That was my buddy Jackson, who drives a snowplow for the county. They just closed all of the roads going to and from the mountain due to whiteout conditions.”

  Her eyes went round and wide as he shook his head and met them with his own.

  “It looks like you and I are kind of stuck here.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Bellamy’s eyes were as round as pretty, green dinner plates, and she stared at him, wary. “Define kind of stuck here.”

  Shane tried not to wince. “Well, they closed the roads to everyone but snowplows about fifteen minutes ago. Jackson said visibility is pretty much nil, so the cops set up roadblocks until the snow eases up.” He didn’t add that two cars had skidded right into the guardrails, and that Jackson had almost gone off the road himself a time or two.

  “Are you serious?”

  Shane shifted in the door frame, trying to look at anything other than the doe-eyed expression on her face. Keeping himself in check when she got all hot-girl-feisty was hard enough. The sweet, vulnerable thing? Shit, an army of him wouldn’t stand a chance against that.

  “Unfortunately, yeah. Listen, I’m sorry. I should have just taken you back earlier.” He probably would’ve gotten stuck at the resort that way, but at least it would have been better than being stranded here at the garage. Just the two of them. Alone.

  Right. Because the garage is so romantic. Get a grip.