Start Me Up (2 page)

The air outside was perfect and crisp, but Lori only cracked open the garage door a few inches. She didn’t want to take any chances with curious bears. Especially if they were looking for breakfast.

As she worked at wrestling the old pump out, her thoughts became clearer and slightly more painful.

What if Ben Lawson was right? What if her father had been deliberately hurt? His skull fractured, his brain damaged, his life taken away long before he’d died…What if someone had done that on purpose?

She grabbed a rag and wiped sweat—or tears—off her face, then bent back to her task.

She hadn’t complained about the turn her life had taken. Accidents happened. She’d given up on college and travel and dating, but she’d done it for her father, willingly. He would have done as much or more for her. So, no, she hadn’t complained about what she’d given up.

But giving up something was very different than having it taken away.

Her teen years had been filled with books and hopes and a steely-eyed determination to get into the college of her dreams. And she’d done it. She’d gone off to Boston College, and her father had been so proud. Then he’d been hurt, and she’d left that behind, but she was beginning to realize she’d left behind a lot more than her education.

Her twenties had revolved around caring for her dad and keeping his business going to pay for it. Her life had been spent in coveralls and boots, T-shirts and jeans. Any love affairs had been brief and unexciting.

But lately, even before Ben’s news, she’d been restless. She couldn’t just leave Tumble Creek. Couldn’t hop on a plane and start college again. There were simply too many bills that had piled up over the years. Caring for a semivegetative relative wasn’t cheap.

So she couldn’t simply walk away and start over. But she could change her life in smaller ways, and something inside her was calling on her to take action. Perhaps this was just a natural consequence of nearing thirty. But that restless feeling had rapidly grown more intense since Ben had dropped by.

Noticing that the sunlight was now bright yellow instead of pale pink, Lori glanced up at the clock. Seven-thirty. When she raised the garage door the rest of the way, the spectacular clatter echoed through the high-ceilinged garage. She strolled out into the sun and bright birdsong, but the gravel of the lot crunched and popped beneath her boots, distracting her from the beauty of the morning. She thought mournfully of the red polish she’d painted onto her toenails the night before and sighed.

Maybe she should try another fling.

Or maybe she should just order another box of books from Molly’s publisher.

Either way, after she stopped by Quinn’s lot tonight, she’d come home to take a bath and read a dirty story. Then maybe she’d think about going shopping for a pair of open-toed heels that would click against the ground instead of thud. She jogged back in to call Molly.

As she grabbed the phone, her thoughts were interrupted by a startling chirp from the receiver in her hand. She nearly dropped it, which would have pissed her off immensely. As it was, she’d had to replace two phones already this year. One had fallen victim to the big, clumsy hands of her least-favorite plow driver. The other had somehow gotten itself mixed up with a big tub of lube, which wasn’t nearly as fun as it sounded. Not for a phone anyway.

“Love’s Garage,” she snapped into the phone.

“Ms. Love?”

“Yes.”

“Hello! This is Christopher Tipton!” Chris always announced his name as if she’d won a prize.

Lori slumped onto a stool. “Hey, Chris.” She’d known him since grade school, but she had a feeling he wasn’t calling to reminisce. “What’s going on?”

“I was just wondering if you’ve had time to think over selling that parcel of land we discussed in February.”

That parcel of land,
he said, as if it hadn’t been everything her dad had ever dreamed of. “Look, Chris, I’m sorry. It’s only been a few mon—” Actually, that wasn’t true anymore. It had been a whole year since her dad had died. Jesus. When had that happened?

“I know it’s difficult to consider. And I know it hasn’t been that long for you, but I think you’ll find that Tipton & Tremaine has put together a very generous offer—”

“I just…I need more time.”

He sighed. “I understand. Just promise you won’t consider any other offers without contacting me first. I can assure you that we want to preserve the natural beauty of the place. We’re not talking a big two-hundred-house development here. Just a small group of sportsmen’s cottages along the river.”

“Yeah, I get it,” she muttered, thinking about the kind of “cottages” his firm usually built. Something more along the lines of a grand hunting lodge that could easily house seven families. Or one enormously rich one. It had always struck her as funny that rich families needed so much space for their one-point-eight children.

“I won’t consider anything without calling you. Promise.”

“Okay, I’ll—”

“Bye.” Lori hung up and kicked the steel beam in front of her, glad she wasn’t wearing heels now.

When she finally emerged from the trees, Lori felt a little shock. She hadn’t known what to expect, but it hadn’t been this. A tiny log cabin stood at the edge of a meadow blooming with wildflowers. The music of running water floated on the air, audible even over the heavy sound of her motor. It seemed more likely she’d find a herd of elk here than a construction site.

But when she drew closer, the backhoe appeared behind the cabin, frozen like a strange giraffe lowering its head in defeat. Lori drove toward it, not even noticing Quinn until she’d parked and gotten out.

He stood at a drafting table set up on the tiny back porch of the cabin, facing the sun-drenched trees to the east. It was no surprise that he didn’t look up when Lori slammed the door of her truck. Quinn had a singular skill of tuning out the whole world when he was working on something important to him. This was clearly important.

“Hey, Quinn,” she called anyway.

“Hey,” he answered, without even a glance.

She smiled at his bent head, noticing the glint of sun against his light brown hair. “I’m just going to check out the backhoe for you.”

“Sure.” He frowned ferociously at something on the big drafting sheet and began to draw. Hunched over like that, he looked shorter than his nearly six feet, but his shoulders seemed wider than she remembered. His hands…Well, his hands moved with that elegant precision she’d noticed even when she was a nerdy teenager.

Lori grinned at the sight of those hands moving over the paper. The nice thing about Quinn was that she could probably stand there for an hour watching him, and he’d never notice. Lovely man. No idle conversation to disturb her daydreaming. Still, she was going to lose her light if she didn’t hurry.

After tucking a brown curl behind her ear, she climbed up into the machine. It was an old model—a strange lemon color, freckled with rust spots and complete with a small dozing shovel on the front. Quinn must have picked it up from one of his contractors for a steal. And what man
wouldn’t
want to own a big ol’ construction machine? Lori didn’t even need one, but she was tempted to ask if she could borrow it when Quinn was done. Surely she could find some stuff to move around the junkyard behind her house.

The key was already in the ignition, so Lori turned it. There was a faint electric hum, but nothing else. She let out a breath at the sound. Good, this was probably something she could fix. If it had been a problem with the hydraulics, Quinn would’ve had to call in someone more expensive.

She tried again, listening more closely. It was almost certainly the starter, and hopefully this model had an electric starter and not one of those air-start systems. If it was an air-start, she’d have to refer him to a diesel specialist after all. Lori jumped down to take a look.

Half an hour later, she wiped her hands on a rag and spent a few minutes writing down part numbers and brands. She could fix this, no problem.

“Quinn, I’m going to have to order two parts, but I should have them in a couple of days. I’ll be back then.”

“Great,” was his only response, though he followed it up with a hurried, “Thanks.” The sun was still slanting across the clearing, throwing Quinn even deeper in shadow.

Lori shook her head. Not one of her other customers would say “great” without even asking the price. Then again, she didn’t usually work on the Aspen side of the pass.

She allowed herself one last glance at him, watched him rub his thumb thoughtfully across his bottom lip for a few moments and then Lori headed home.

Just then the setting sun broke through the pines, streaking past the quaking aspen leaves and casting mottled, moving shadows against the big boulder that marked the eastern edge of the clearing. That was exactly what he’d been looking for, just that tone and timing of light.

Quinn threw off any thoughts of visitors and began sketching furiously, capturing his new vision for the entry of the house. Losing track of the world around him was a high price to pay, but it always got Quinn just what he wanted. At work, anyway. And if he concentrated hard enough, he never had to think about the rest of his life, or lack thereof.

She nodded and bit her lip in desperate anticipation. When his calloused, unfamiliar hands touched her hip, she jumped and gasped. The tension was already winding tight within her, a serpent looking for release.

Holding her steady with one hand, the man pushed the head of himself against her opening.

No stroking, no preparation. He just guided himself close and shoved hard and deep. It didn’t matter. She was already wet.

Marguerite screamed.

“Lori, it’s Ben.”

“Hey, Ben.” He was calling to tell her he’d been wrong. He must be.

“I know I must have shocked you the other day. Are you doing all right?”

“Sure, I’m fine.” Just tense and irritable and restless.

“Good. I’m still waiting on more information. Old cases take a backseat in the state system, of course. But in the meantime, I wondered if you could answer a few questions.”

Lori blinked. “Um, sure. But I wasn’t here when the acci—when he was hurt.”

“I just mean some general thoughts. Did your dad have any enemies? I don’t mean Capulet-Montague kind of stuff. Just some guy he never got along with. Maybe a garage owner in Grand Valley he was stealing business from. A customer accusing him of fraud or theft.”

“Oh, I don’t think so.”

“A woman? Was he dating someone, or maybe a few someones?”

She blinked again, struck by how strange the idea was. “Not that I know of.”

“Okay. That’s fine. It’s nothing urgent. I just want you to keep these questions simmering in the back of your mind. Write down anything you think of. Any reason at all someone could’ve been after your father. Money and passion are the two most common denominators in these situations.”

“Yeah, but…” Lori closed her eyes and rubbed her free hand over her face. “Ben, I’m sure it was just some stupid barroom brawl. Nobody wanted anything from him. He didn’t
have
anything.”

“You’re probably right, but I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t consider every angle. I don’t mean to upset you—”

“No, I’m sorry. I can’t say I’m happy about this, but it means a lot that you’re looking into it. I’ll help any way I can.”

“Thanks, Lori. Call me if you think of anything, or if you just need to talk, all right?”

Just after she hung up, Joe roared into the lot with a suddenness that made Lori jump. Dust floated up in his wake while she rubbed her eyes.

“Nothing serious?” she called hoarsely when he descended from the cab.

“Flat tire. Nobody can change a flat tire anymore, you ever notice that?”

Yes, of course she’d noticed, and had said as much the first thousand times they’d had this conversation. Still, the auto clubs paid them thirty dollars a pop to fix a flat, so the decline of manly civilization was just fine with Lori. Joe inclined his head toward the phone.

“Another run?”

“No, just a personal call.” She eyed him as he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped sweat from the nape of his neck. He looked old, suddenly. He’d been older than her father by a few years, but they’d been as close as brothers. And Joe had been like a second father to her.

He’d worked in the garage since before Lori was born. But he’d been more than an employee.

Joe had picked her up from school countless times, applauded her achievements, lectured her about boys and drinking. She wouldn’t have been able to care for her father if Joe hadn’t been there to pick up the slack in the garage. She hadn’t been able to pay him enough for essentially running the garage for those first few years, but Joe had never complained. Not once.

And he’d known her dad better than anyone.

“Joe, can I ask you something?”

He shrugged and dropped into a chair. “You know you can ask me anything. Shoot.”

“I’ve been thinking about my dad lately. I wasn’t here those last few months before his accident. What was his life like after I left?”

Joe shrugged. “Same as always, really. Work. Fish. Grab a beer.”

“Was he dating anyone?”

She must have surprised him. Joe tucked his chin in. “Dating? Nothing serious that he ever mentioned. There was a waitress over in Grand Valley he stepped out with sometimes, even when you were still here. A woman over in Eagle he saw once or twice. But he was a loner. After your mom left…” He squinted up at her. “He wasn’t much on relationships after that.”

Lori cringed. Her mother had run off when Lori was five. She’d left both of them behind and never looked back. She’d died about eight years ago from liver failure. Hepatitis C. So Lori was officially an orphan.

“She wrote me once,” Joe said, shocking Lori so much that she gasped.

“What?”

“Your mom. She wrote to me. You were probably fifteen by then. She wanted to know how you were doing.”

“But…why did she write to
you?
”

Leaning forward, he rested his forearms on his knees and stared at the floor. “She was too ashamed to write to your dad, maybe. I wrote back to tell her how amazing you were. Smart and hardworking. I never heard nothing after that.”

Lori cleared her throat. “You don’t think she ever got in touch with my dad?”

His eyes rose quickly to meet hers. He held her gaze for a long moment. “He never said anything about it.”

“Yeah.” Nodding, she kicked the cement with her boot. “I guess she never did. Thanks for telling me, Joe.”

“You bet, darlin’. Anything else you want to know?”

“No. I’m gonna head up to Quinn Jennings’s place. If there aren’t any calls in the next thirty minutes, you can go. Just forward the phone to my cell.” She grabbed her book to head for the door, but Joe cleared his throat and stopped her.

“Say, before you go…Have you thought anymore about selling your dad’s lot?”

Lori managed not to groan. What was it with that piece of land? Sure, it bordered a good stretch of the river, but it didn’t hide access to an old silver mine. Or maybe it did. “Joe, I’m sorry. I’m just not ready. I know it’s been a year now, but my dad was so happy when he bought it. You know what I mean.”

Joe held up his hands and offered a sad smile, the sympathy in his eyes a familiar comfort. He’d made an offer on the land soon after the accident when he’d realized she was having financial problems, and if she was going to sell to anyone, it would be to Joe. He loved that place and fished there all the time, even though his fishing buddy was gone.

She joined him sometimes, and it was as if her father was there with them, too. Just like the old days. Her two favorite people in the world.

Joe’s scarred fingers closed over her elbow. “No pressure, Lori. You just say the word when you’re ready to discuss it. Say, whatcha reading there?” He stood, starting to reach for the book, but Lori danced out of his way.

“I’ll see you Monday!” she called, grabbing her keys to head for Quinn’s cabin.

After rolling down the window and speeding out of the lot, Lori shoved a CD into the player and turned it up way too loud. The wind wreaked havoc on her hair, but for once, Lori didn’t care. The loud music and the beautiful day chased away her ghosts, mostly because she wanted them to.

Whatever had happened in her life, whoever she was, she needed to be free of it, just for a moment. Her hair, the one thing she loved about her looks, bounced and writhed in the wind. The music thrummed a sexy beat through her body. And the cool air made her cheeks glow pink.

She was twenty-nine years old. An orphan, sure. A single woman with no prospects. But she was hardly dried up and done. What she needed was a distraction.

Ben had stirred up dusty memories, and if she didn’t distract herself, she’d find herself living with ghosts. It wouldn’t be a long trip for her. She was living in her dad’s house, driving her dad’s trucks, doing her dad’s work. If she wasn’t careful, she’d turn into a fifty-nine-year-old man with a salt-and-pepper beard and hairy arms.

She needed a distraction. She needed to be a
girl.
No, not a girl. A woman. A fling would offer that much at least, and give her something pleasant to think about while Ben screwed with her life.

Or would it? She’d had casual sex before, and fireworks hadn’t exactly exploded behind her eyes. Firecrackers, maybe, down a little lower.
Pop!
And that was it. Night of adventure over. What the hell kind of distraction would that be? She needed…
more.

In all honesty, Lori had never been as aroused in a man’s arms as she was reading the erotica that Molly had her hooked on. And despite the rumors around town, she wasn’t the least bit interested in women. So what did that mean? Did she need more…kink? Did she want a stranger to treat her with rough force like that last story she’d read?

“God, I don’t think so,” she muttered to her steering wheel.

Did she want to be tied up, spanked, or passed around a werewolf pack? Because she’d liked all those stories, too. Laughter bubbled up and made her snort. That werewolf fantasy would be a hard one to pull off. She’d have to troll through the forest in high heels, just praying one of the scruffy campers was actually a raving beast.

Her truck roared as it strained up the steep climb to the summit, but Lori barely noticed the impressive view. She was too busy analyzing her sexual needs.

No werewolves then, but what about all the other stuff?

She hadn’t been at college long enough to go out with more than one boy, no time for experimentation, and since then she was just…dating. Barely. Her frustrated groan broke in two when she hit a rut in the road.
Dating.
She’d only met a few men she’d even wanted to sleep with and couldn’t imagine asking any one of those guys to spank her.

Though Jean-Paul probably knew how to spank a girl. He’d probably done it dozens of times. Maybe she should call him. Maybe—

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Lori growled. She didn’t even
want
to be spanked. She just wanted to have a spectacular orgasm or two. She wanted spark and sizzle and a whole damn conflagration.

Her life was about to speed past thirty, but a real relationship was out of the question. She might not have a plan to escape her life, but she wasn’t ready to surrender to it completely. Someday she would leave Tumble Creek, find a way to move on. But for right now she wanted…more. Any excuse not to think about her problems.

Instead of worrying, she wanted to be glowing, moaning, panting.
Wet.
Just like the women in those books.

New shoes definitely wouldn’t do that for her, but it would be a start. A signal that she was ready and willing. And maybe, just maybe, the perfect stranger would come along and coax her to slip those shoes off. Or, better yet…order her to keep them on.

Lori gunned the engine and climbed toward the sky.