Meant to Be: a Perfect Fit short story

by Alison Bliss

  Meant to Be

  Alison Bliss

  New York Nashville

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Copyright © 2019 by Alison Bliss

  Cover design by Liz Connor. Cover copyright © 2019 by Hachette Book Group, Inc.

  Hachette Book Group supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact permissions@hbgusa.com. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

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  First Ebook Edition: February 2019

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  ISBN: 978-1-5387-6456-5

  E3-20190114-DA-NF-ORI

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Discover More Alison Bliss

  About the Author

  Also by Alison Bliss

  Don’t Miss Any of the Tempting Books in Alison Bliss’s Perfect Fit series

  To Crystal Wegrzynowicz, for always being a great friend.

  Chapter One

  Brett Carmichael blew out a huge sigh of relief.

  Not only had he just clocked out after another busy day at the garage where he worked, but after almost a year of long days and miserable nights, things were finally starting to look up.

  Thank God.

  For months, he’d been scouring the entire Granite, Texas, area looking for an old building that he could buy and turn into an automotive repair shop. After all, he’d been dreaming of opening his own garage since he was fifteen years old. Back then, he used to spend hours tearing old car engines apart and then putting them back together again just for the hell of it. Now, at age thirty, he actually got paid to do it.

  Brett was a damn good mechanic. Always had been. Which was probably why almost everyone in town brought their vehicles to him when they needed work done. He had a great customer base, but oftentimes he was so busy that he had no choice but to pass some of the repair jobs off to another mechanic in the shop. He hated doing that though because he couldn’t guarantee the other guy’s work like he could his own.

  Sadly, not all mechanics took pride in their work like Brett did. He didn’t randomly guess at what was wrong with a vehicle without doing some kind of research to make sure he was on the right track, and he didn’t take shortcuts just because doing so would be easier or faster. He believed in finding the actual problem and repairing it correctly the first time rather than doing a half-assed job.

  That was one of the reasons he wanted to open his own business. The moment he found a suitable location, he planned to open a garage and hire a couple of great mechanics who held the same beliefs as he did and who would do things the proper way. But Granite was a small town, and finding a place for sale that met his needs hadn’t been easy.

  Brett didn’t need anything big and fancy. He was used to working in cramped quarters and spent most of his time crawling around under a hood or sliding beneath a car on the cracked wooden creeper that his boss was too cheap to replace. But there were a few requirements on which Brett—unlike his boss—refused to budge.

  The structure of the building needed to be large enough to house a separate waiting area for the customers in order to keep them safe and out of the mechanics’ way. Also, the parking lot needed to have enough lighting to be secure and have enough space to store vehicles overnight, if necessary. The last thing he wanted to worry about was a customer getting hurt or their vehicle getting stolen or broken into. So as far as Brett was concerned, these things were nonnegotiable.

  Unfortunately, that only made it harder to find a place.

  At least until his best friend had called this morning. Logan had apparently overheard a conversation at his bar the night before about a used car lot a couple of miles outside the city limits that was now up for sale. The old man who owned it had passed away a few months ago, and it had closed down for good. Although the owner’s only son had inherited the business, the man didn’t live in the area. The middle-aged son had instead flown in from Arizona only long enough to sell off the remaining used car stock at auction and officially put his father’s property up for sale. Both of which he had already done.

  That meant Brett had to move fast.

  So after hanging up with Logan, Brett had immediately called the phone number his friend had given him and spoken with the son about the property. The lot sat on five acres and was located on the main road between Granite and a neighboring community. Not a bad location, if you asked Brett. It would be close enough to Granite for Brett to serve his regular customers, yet near enough to another town to gain some new clients.

  The building was divided into two sections. The front office would come fully furnished and had a large, air-conditioned waiting area for customers, while the shop had three huge bays with galvanized steel doors and a separate room for storing car parts. Not only that, but according to the son, the parking area was well lit and had several surveillance cameras already installed.

  All of that sounded perfect and was exactly what Brett had been looking for. But the thing that caught his attention the most was when the son told him that he was willing to throw in the hydraulic vehicle lift, electronic diagnostic equipment, a welding machine, and several upright toolboxes filled with hand tools…for free.

  Brett hadn’t expected that. Who in their right mind would give away thousands of dollars in equipment like that? Not that he was complaining or anything. That equipment would come in handy, and although Brett already had his own set of hand tools—most mechanics worth their salt did—it never hurt to have extras on hand. He never knew when he might break off a wrench and need another in a pinch.

  But something bothered him about all of this. While the place seemed like a perfect prospect and was definitely in his price range, the deal sounded almost too good to be true. Maybe the owner’s son was just in a hurry to relieve himself of his father’s business and get back to his own life. Or maybe he just really needed the money from the sale of the property. But Brett couldn’t let the idea of fulfilling his long-held dream to persuade him to make rash decisions that he’d regret down the road. Lord knows he’d already done enough of that to last him a lifetime.

  In order to be sure of what he was getting himself into, Brett needed to see the place in person and inspect the building for any major issues. Unfortunately, that in itself was a problem. The son had already
booked his return flight back to Arizona in the morning, and the only time he could show the property was tonight. Otherwise, Brett would have to wait to see it until the man came back in a few weeks to clear out his father’s home.

  But he worried that if he didn’t jump on this opportunity, there was a good chance someone else would. So he’d agreed to meet the guy at the used car lot around seven o’clock.

  That should’ve given him enough time to run home, grab a bite to eat and a quick shower, and then make it to the dealership on time. But as usual, things hadn’t panned out according to his plan. Just as he started to close up shop, an elderly woman had pulled in and asked him to check her alternator belt. It had been squealing, and she was leaving in the morning on a gambling trip with her bingo friends.

  Closed or not, Brett hadn’t been able to refuse her. But by the time he’d replaced her belt and sent her on her way, he was now running late himself. He would’ve called the guy to let him know, but in his rush to get there, Brett had accidentally left his cell phone in his toolbox back at the garage. Along with the guy’s phone number. Just great.

  Brett peered up from the road long enough to check the position of the sun, which had already descended behind the trees. It was getting dark, and he hadn’t had time to get a shower, much less eat anything. But it looked like, as long as he hurried, he would make it to his appointment only a few minutes late. Well, if the son hadn’t given up on him and left already.

  As Brett’s gaze lowered back to the road, he noticed a dark smudge on the side of his hand attached to the steering wheel. He had washed up before leaving the shop, but he always seemed to miss a spot. Sighing, he rubbed the offending mark against the thigh of his jeans to remove it. That was just something that came with the territory of working in a dirty environment.

  And with as many hours as he’d put in lately? God, he’d never be able to get all the oil stains off his hands and black grease out from under his nails. Unless, of course, he scrubbed them until they were raw…which always hurt like hell.

  Didn’t matter though. It would all be worth it when he finally had a garage of his own. That was the only thing he’d ever wanted. Well, maybe not the only thing. There had been something—or rather someone—else. Unfortunately, that relationship hadn’t panned out as he’d hoped, and the two of them had parted ways last year.

  No, idiot. She dumped you. There was nothing mutual about it.

  Brett cringed at the familiar stab of regret slicing into his chest. The same one he’d felt many times before. But the last thing he needed right now was to think about the woman he lost and wonder what could’ve been. So he let out an exasperated breath and shoved the guilt and pain into a mental storage locker and kicked it to the back of the closet in his brain to be dealt with later. He didn’t have time for that shit right now.

  After spending almost an entire year being miserable, he was finally close to getting the only other thing that had ever truly mattered to him. He needed to keep his focus on the here and now. He’d worked hard for months to make his dreams come true, and he was proud of how far he’d come. He wasn’t going to allow anything to stand in the way of that. Especially when it came to his past.

  Brett motored down the window, allowing the cool evening breeze to whip through the interior of his oversized truck. Though it was the beginning of January, winters in South Texas were considerably different than in northern regions. Unless a frontal system blew in, it wasn’t actually all that cold. Especially during the day. If anything, this kind of weather was what most people referred to as “nice fall weather.” But once the sun fell below the horizon, the temperature would usually drop considerably.

  Glancing down at his cargo jeans and stained white T-shirt, Brett shrugged. He didn’t have a jacket with him, but he wasn’t planning on standing outside in the night air very long anyway. He’d be fine.

  No sooner had the thought run through his mind than he noticed a little silver Pontiac Solstice up ahead parked on the shoulder of the road. The emergency flashers blinked off and on like crazy, and a figure was bent over near the back tire. It didn’t take a genius to know that they probably had a flat, but Brett shook his head. While the stranded motorist had managed to park their car completely off the road, it was dangerous to change a tire on the side of the vehicle nearest traffic. Especially at night when other motorists’ visibility was limited.

  But Brett also knew from experience that it sometimes couldn’t be helped.

  As a courtesy, he immediately slowed down and veered over the center line to go around the little sports car at a safe distance. Normally, he would’ve pulled over and offered his assistance to someone stuck on the side of the road. After all, he was a mechanic and almost always kept tools in his truck. But tonight he couldn’t really spare the time. So instead, he mumbled to himself, “Sorry, buddy. Better luck next time.”

  But as he drove slowly past, the person bending over near the back tire straightened into an upright position, and he immediately realized his mistake. Although Brett had assumed the person was a man from a distance, the long dark locks and pristine white pant suit clinging to lush curves confirmed that she was very much indeed a woman.

  Damn it.

  Maybe it had something to do with growing up with a younger sister or being raised by a single mom, but Brett had always had a soft spot for women. Especially ones who seemed to be in trouble.

  Without hesitation, he pulled onto the shoulder of the road in front of the silver sports car and turned off his engine. Then he glanced at his watch and gritted his teeth. God, he didn’t have time for this right now. But there was no way in hell he could drive past a stranded woman and not stop to ask if she needed some assistance. His dad had taught him better than that.

  But that didn’t mean he had to be happy about it.

  Disgruntled by the inconvenience, Brett shoved open his door and climbed out before heading directly for the woman, who had apparently gone back to work on her tire using a small flashlight that she had lying on the ground next to her. Hell, as far as he could tell, she hadn’t so much as even looked up when he stopped. Hopefully that meant she had things under control and was almost finished putting on a spare. If so, he might be able to still make it to his appointment.

  Not wasting any time, Brett walked right up behind her. “Do you need some help with your tire, miss?”

  Her head snapped up, and her posture stiffened as if a metal rod had been shoved into her spine, but she didn’t turn around or respond.

  Worried that he’d somehow frightened her, he cringed and took a nonthreatening step back. She hadn’t looked back at him yet, but if she decided to, he didn’t want to seem like he was towering over her. He was a pretty built guy, and it wouldn’t be the first time that his appearance alone had intimidated someone.

  He purposely softened his tone to keep his deep voice from sounding too harsh. “I was just driving past and saw you stranded here. I’m a mechanic so I thought I might be of some assistance.”

  The woman rose slowly to her feet and cocked her head back slightly as she released a sound of annoyance from the back of her throat. Though it was barely audible, the quiet noise reverberated through him as if her vocal cords were two cymbals crashing together.

  His body stilled. No. It couldn’t be.

  The moment she turned around to face him, his mouth fell open. Probably due to the whirlwind of emotions that were bitch-slapping him in the face.

  She shook her head. “It doesn’t take a genius—or a mechanic—to change a flat tire, Brett.”

  He blinked rapidly, not believing his eyes. “Sidney?”

  She huffed out an irritated breath. “Oh, come on. I don’t look that different.”

  No, she didn’t. Actually she was just as gorgeous as ever. But the last person he expected to come face-to-face with was his ex-girlfriend of all people. Not only that, but it had been almost a year since he’d last laid eyes on her, and he hadn’t known she’d grown out h
er brunette hair.

  He’d never seen Sidney with long hair before, but the short, choppy do she used to sport while they were dating was now trailing down her back with lighter-colored pieces framing her heart-shaped face. It looked great. The flattering style really brought out the rich color in her warm brown eyes.

  But that crisp white pant suit she was wearing? Holy hell.

  Sidney had always dressed in a classic, conservative style that included tailored clothing, high-quality fabrics, and lots of neutral colors. In fact, he hadn’t even thought it possible for her to look any more sophisticated and elegant than she had back when they were dating. Yet the woman never failed to surprise him.

  Brett didn’t know exactly what it was about her modest attire that always sent his tongue wagging. Most guys he knew went for women in low-cut tops and high-rise skirts. Those were nice and all. But give him Sidney in a tailored blouse and a pair of pressed pants, and he’d be hard for days.

  It was like she had a pureness about her that called to him, an innocence that he’d lost years ago and would never get back. Every time he was around her, all he wanted to do was roll her onto the nearest bed and muss that polished hair as he soiled her cleanliness with all the dirty things he wished to do to her body. And this time was no exception.

  Brett glanced down at his oil-stained hands though. Great. She was going to think he hadn’t washed them. Even though he had. Twice. Shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans, he realized he still hadn’t responded to her yet. “You look as great as always, Sid.” Damn. Took you long enough, dumbass.

  “Um, thanks. You too,” she said, turning away from him. “But you can go. I have everything under control.”

  Her dismissal hit him like a punch to the gut, and he winced. Okay, so maybe he deserved it after what he’d done to her last year. But it was almost completely dark outside, and he would be damned if he was just going to leave her stranded in the middle of nowhere all alone. Even if she did have a flashlight.